เข้าสู่ระบบThe music began.It wasn't the traditional "Here Comes the Bride." It was a live string quartet playing a haunting, melodic version of Debussy’s Clair de Lune—the song Vespera had once told Cyprian was the only thing that calmed her mind during the nights in the attic.The heavy oak doors of the Hale Fortress’s Great Hall swung open.The guests—three hundred of the world’s most powerful people—stood as one.Vespera stepped onto the aisle runner.The air smelled of heaven. Fifty thousand white orchids lined the walls, but the aisle itself was strewn with white rose petals. Cyprian had remembered. “Orchids are for the show,” he had said. “Roses are for you.”Vespera gripped her bouquet of white peonies. Her hands were trembling, but not from fear.She looked down the long aisle.At the end, standing beneath an arch of interwoven crystal and blooms, was Cyprian.He was wearing a black tuxedo that fit him like a second skin, tailored to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders. His hands
The invitation weighed nearly a pound.It was engraved on a sheet of solid, brushed gold, encased in a sleeve of midnight-blue velvet. It didn't just say "You're invited." It said, "You are witnessing history."The Union of Cyprian Hale & Vespera Vane.The Hale Fortress.Saturday, Sunset.The internet had dubbed it "The Royal Wedding of the Business World."For three days, social media had been in a frenzy. The hashtag #VesperaWedding was trending higher than the national election.@NeoVeridiaNews: Sources confirm that Cyprian Hale has imported 50,000 white orchids from Singapore for the ceremony. The entire floral market is sold out.@GossipGirl: Do you remember her first wedding to Thorne? The one in the backyard with the plastic chairs? Talk about a glow up.@FinanceBro: Vane Strategy stock is up another 12% on the wedding news. She’s monetizing her own romance. Genius.Inside the Penthouse Suite of the Fortress, Vespera stood on a pedestal in front of a tri-fold mirror.The room w
The blades of the helicopter sliced through the night air, a rhythmic thwup-thwup-thwup that vibrated in Vespera’s chest.She sat in the leather passenger seat, wearing a noise-canceling headset. Below them, the glittering grid of Neo-Veridia was shrinking. The Hale Fortress, the ruins of the Thorne factory, the hospital where Elara lay screaming—it all looked like a toy set from up here."Where are we going?" Vespera asked into the microphone. "You said we needed to discuss the next phase of the acquisition strategy."Cyprian sat in the pilot’s seat. He wasn't wearing his usual armor of a three-piece suit. He wore a black linen shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and dark trousers. His hands moved deftly over the controls.He glanced at her, his grey eyes warm in the dashboard lights."The acquisition is complete, Vespera," he said. "The strategy is over. Tonight isn't about business."Vespera frowned. If it wasn't about business, why the helicopter? Why the secrecy? A small, traumatize
The view from the Chairman’s Office was breathtaking. From the fiftieth floor, Neo-Veridia looked like a circuit board of gold and glass.Vespera sat in the massive leather chair—Lysander’s chair—and signed a purchase order. She felt no ghost in the room. She had exorcised the space simply by being better at the job than he ever was.Bzzzt.The intercom on her desk glowed red."Mrs. Hale?" the receptionist’s voice was hesitant. "I’m sorry to disturb you, but... there is a woman here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment."Vespera didn't look up from the document. "Security can handle trespassers, Sarah. Send her away.""I tried, Ma'am. But she’s... making a scene. She claims she’s your mother."Vespera’s pen stopped. The ink bled into the paper, forming a tiny black sun.Mother.That word had always tasted like ash in her mouth."Let her in," Vespera said quietly."Are you sure? I can call Mr. Hale's security team.""No. I need to handle this one myself."A moment later, the hea
The front door of the Thorne Mansion—solid oak, imported from France, worth twenty thousand dollars—shuddered under the force of a heavy fist.BANG. BANG. BANG."Sheriff’s Department! Open up!"Inside the foyer, the scene was one of absolute bedlam."They can't do this!" Mrs. Thorne shrieked, running down the grand staircase clutching a Louis Vuitton suitcase that was spilling silk scarves. "This is my home! I have rights! Lysander, call the Mayor!"Lysander stood by the window, staring at the three police cruisers parked in the circular driveway. He wore the same clothes he had been arrested in yesterday—rumpled, stained, and reeking of defeat."The Mayor won't take my calls, Mother," Lysander said hollowly. "He blocked my number an hour ago."The door banged again. "Mr. Thorne! You have a writ of possession executed by the bank. You have thirty minutes to vacate the premises!"Thirty minutes.Thirty minutes to pack a lifetime of arrogance into a few bags.Elara sat on a velvet bench
The air conditioning in the Thorne Enterprises boardroom was set to sixty-eight degrees, but Lysander Thorne was sweating through his shirt."We are delisted, Lysander! Delisted!"Mr. Henderson, the oldest member of the board, slammed his fist onto the polished mahogany table."The stock is trading at eighty cents over the counter! The factory is a pile of ash! The insurance company has flagged us for fraud! We are bleeding out!"Lysander stood at the head of the table, his hands gripping the back of the Chairman’s leather chair—the chair his father had sat in, the chair he had inherited. He looked haggard. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair unkempt."Calm down!" Lysander shouted, his voice cracking. "I have it under control. The heavy trading volume this morning... someone is buying up the outstanding shares. It’s a White Knight.""Who?" a female board member demanded. "Who would buy a burning building?""A foreign investor," Lysander lied, though he half-believed it himself. "I have







