The first rule of power was simple:
Never reveal fear—only calculation.
Seraphina spent the next two days doing exactly what Jonathan expected her to do.
She canceled appearances. Declined interviews. Let meetings be postponed without protest. She stopped posting statements, stopped correcting narratives, stopped pushing back.
From the outside, it looked like retreat.
Inside the penthouse, it was war planning.
Lucien watched her carefully as she reviewed data on the screen, cross-referencing timelines, communication logs, and indirect connections. Her calm unsettled him more than anger ever could.
“You’re too composed,” he said finally.
She didn’t look up. “I’m focused.”
“That’s what worries me.”
She turned toward him then. “You asked me to trust you. Now I’m asking the same.”
H
