The morning sun had barely crested the skyline when the sleek conference room of Roux Capital hummed with quiet urgency. Glass walls reflected the figures around the long table, executives from three companies settling into a space that had seen more strategy sessions than anyone could count.
Ethan sat at the head, crisp in his tailored suit, the calm eye in the middle of the corporate storm. Marcus Creed's presence at the far end radiated silent authority; he said little and watched everything. Lucien Roux, Selene's uncle, shifted occasionally in his chair, adjusting his tie, his expressions a mixture of impatience and cautious diplomacy.
Mira, seated slightly apart from the table under the guise of note-taking, didn't just watch the meeting—she absorbed it. Every glance, every shift in posture, and every micro-expression was logged quietly in her mind.
