Two Christoph-free weeks did wonders for Sophia’s soul.
Without a tall German lawyer glowering over her clauses, Madanunan Crown settled into a rhythm that felt almost luxurious. The resort had stopped feeling like a fragile newborn and started behaving like a fully caffeinated organism.
Occupancy was high. Bookings were insane. Social media still looked like Madanunan had swallowed half of i********:.
Elysium, however, was becoming a beautiful problem.
“Membership requests have tripled,” Matthew said one afternoon in the media command room, staring at the latest report. “Tripled. We only have eight private suites. We do not have this many private tables. Or this many bouncers. Or this many brain cells.”
Sophia leaned over his shoulder, sipping iced coffee. “Congratulations. You crea
