The Shard didn't feel like my empire today.
It felt like a beautifully designed cage.
I hadn't slept—not really. Every time I drifted, I saw her again. Elena's gaze—empty, precise, inhuman in its stillness. And then that moment on the tarmac… the way she had lifted the tube of Sovereign Red with quiet reverence, applying it like she was stepping into a role that had always belonged to her.
Not imitation.
Assumption.
I had spent the morning at the café, hands busy, movements automatic—grinding beans, steaming milk, smiling at customers who knew me as Maya, not a title, not a symbol. But my mind hadn't been there.
It had been here.
Three blocks away.
Ninety floors up.
Inside the monolith that carried Reid's name—and my power.
I didn't call the executive car.
Didn't alert security.
Didn't give anyone the chance to prepare.
I took a cab.
A plain yellow one.
