By dawn, the city beneath Hawthorne Tower was bathed in pale gold light, oblivious to the war waging in its heart. Liam Hawthorne stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, his reflection mirrored against the sprawling skyline, calm, lethal, unbroken. Beside him, Ava leaned slightly into his shoulder, her tablet buzzing softly with the final updates on the operations they had orchestrated.
“Everything’s in place,” she said quietly. Her voice carried the weight of exhaustion tempered by triumph. “Zurich, Singapore, Grand Cayman… every last maneuver has executed perfectly. Investors are panicking in his favor for the last time, and the internal betrayals we seeded—he’s falling apart from the inside.”
Liam didn’t move immediately. He didn’t need to. His presence alone commanded the room. Calm,
