The rain came down in sheets, hammering against the reinforced glass of Clara’s penthouse apartment. It was a torrential, unforgiving New York storm, the kind that turned the streets into black rivers and washed the city clean of its grime.

Inside, Clara’s sanctuary was warm, silent, a

The executive suite of Thorne Empire looked like the site of a natural disaster.

Papers were scattered across the floor like fallen leaves. The massive digital stock ticker mounted on the wall flashed a relentless, angry red, the numbers plummeting lower with every passing second. The

The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Clara Vance’s new penthouse office. Unlike the gaudy, gold-leafed monstrosity Julian had designed for himself at Thorne Empire, Clara’s sanctuary at Aura House was a study in monochromatic power. Charcoal slate, brushed steel, and f