r parents' grave woke up the next morning

a cold, hard stone in her gut, but it was surrounded by a churning sea of nausea. Any scent-the c

email to Grant Fletcher: "Fee

it would look like a deliberate act of defiance, a petty delay.

gy acquisition. It was Taylor Corp's biggest pending deal, a multi-billion-dollar play to dominate the AI sector. She had only handled

oon. Grant Fletcher's voi

xpects you in the o

ater she was holding to her tem

waiting for two days." Then his voice became muffled, and another

, she will be in breach of contract," Armand snarled

a distinct, sharp crash-someth

e with one of the hedge funds this morning. A nine-f

emperor needed to crush a rebellion in his personal life to feel

esult in more extreme, more dangerous retaliation. She had to finish

hting down a wave of sickne

he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the pale, hollo

y applied concealer under her eyes, a touch of color to her cheeks, a neutral,

ck sheath dress with a matching bl

off a thin piece. The sharp, acidic scent helped quell the nausea. She put the slice

ag, took one last look in the m

She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing, mentally r

nd steel monolith of the Taylor Corp build

walking in to

ed a strand of hair across her face, but she didn't falter. She walked through the revolving

urmured, his voice devoid of its earlier fury, replaced by a chilling, almost possessive calm. "She has no idea what's coming. What she's carrying isn't ju