By mid-afternoon, the compound had settled into its usual rhythm—men working, deals moving, engines rumbling in the distance.
And Evelyn?
She was right where she intended to be.
In the sun-soaked backyard, lounging with a book in hand, the picture of composed elegance.
Her dress was dark, fitted, and unapologetically stunning—cut to hug every curve, the fabric soft but sharp, hinting at everything while revealing very little.
Her heels, sleek and high, rested beside her chair, but even barefoot, she exuded that same quiet dominance.
Designer sunglasses shaded her eyes as she read, her posture relaxed but commanding—completely at ease in her throne beneath the sun.
She wasn’t hiding.
She wasn’t playing it soft.
She was exactly what they all saw her as now.
The Queen.
And she love
