The scent of tropical rain washed over the terrace of the Valerio Tower, mingling with the rich, smoky aroma of dark espresso and crisp paper. Jakarta welcomed us back not with peace, but with the suffocating humidity of absolute submission.
A month had passed since our return from Zurich. The European Council was officially a ghost story whispered in the halls of Geneva, while in Southeast Asia, the Valerio-Vance Directorate operated as an untouchable entity.
Yet, true power is never static. It is a living, breathing beast that demands constant restructuring.
I stood at the head of the dark glass table inside my private penthouse office. My white silk blouse was open slightly at the collar, paired with a high-waisted black pencil skirt that accentuated every line of my frame. My hair f
