The elevator doors slid open into glass and gold. The entire floor had been dressed for the launch: crystal chandeliers refracting city light, violins humming under the low thrum of conversation, champagne balanced in crystal flutes by silent staff. Chicago’s skyline bled in through floor-to-ceiling windows, a backdrop made to impress.
I adjusted the cuff of my midnight-navy tuxedo, movement clipped, precise. Tailored lines fit like armor, silk lapels catching light with each step. I didn’t smile, didn’t greet, I entered like I owned the air they were breathing.
Discipline wasn’t posture; it was survival. And lately, it felt thinner than it used to.
Amber was at my side.
Her gown was a column of deep emerald silk, simple in cut but merciless in effect. The fabric clung to the dip of he
