In Box 14, Julian Sterling was sweating through his silk undershirt. He had seen Leon Hart enter the gallery with the woman in gold, and his heart had nearly stopped. He didn't need a telescope to know who Elizabeth Roys was; her face was etched into the mind of every man in the country who held even a shred of power.
"James," Sterling hissed, his voice trembling as he gripped the velvet railing. "Why is she in Rivers' box? Why is the daughter of the Commander in Chief sitting with those children?"
James, standing in the shadows behind him, looked equally shaken. "I don't know, sir. There was no record of her on the guest list. She must have come as Hart's personal guest."
"If Rivers has the military's ear through the Roys family, we aren't just looking at a corporate takeover," Sterling muttered, his mind racing through a hundred nightmare scenarios. "We're looking at an execution. If she's there to bless this union, the regulatory boards won't just ignore me—they'll bury me."
