I showered again, dressed in the power suit laid out by my stylist, applied makeup with practiced precision. Each action a step in the daily transformation from private self to public persona. By the time I checked my reflection before heading to breakfast, Camille Kane stared back at me, confident, controlled, composed.
No trace remained of the confusion and uncertainty that had plagued me through the night. No hint of the dreams that had disturbed my sleep. Just the woman Victoria had created, the heir to her empire, the instrument of justice against those who had wronged me.
Yet as I moved through the morning routine, breakfast with Victoria, security briefing with James, review of press coverage from the previous night's event, I found my thoughts repeatedly returning to Alexander Pi
