LOGINThe 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
The fever had broken, leaving Vespera feeling hollowed out but lucid.She lay on the velvet sofa in the living room of the Fortress, wrapped in a cashmere throw. The sun had set, and the city lights of Neo-Veridia were beginning to twinkle outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.Cyprian had finally been convinced to go to his study to take a conference call, leaving Oryn to stand guard.The room was quiet. The only sound was the soft hum of the HVAC system.Then, the massive television on the wall changed.The muted 24-hour news cycle cut away from a weather report. A red banner flashed across the bottom of the screen: BREAKING NEWS.Oryn, sensing the shift, pointed the remote and unmuted the volume.The sound of sirens filled the living room."...live from the industrial district where a massive blaze has engulfed the primary manufacturing facility of Thorne Enterprises."Vespera sat up slowly, clutching the blanket to her chest.On the screen, the night sky was choked with thick, blac
The darkness was different this time.It wasn't the void of death. It wasn't the cold, wet asphalt of the street where she had died in her first life.It was soft. It smelled of lavender and cedar.The first thing Vespera felt was a distinct, soothing chill against her burning forehead.She moaned softly, trying to turn her head away from the cold."Easy," a voice murmured from the shadows. "Don't move. You're still running a fever."Vespera peeled her eyes open. Her eyelids felt heavy, like they were weighted with lead.The room was dim, illuminated only by the amber glow of a single nightlight plugged into the wall near the door. She recognized the ceiling—the high, vaulted shadows of the Master Suite in the Hale Fortress.She shifted, and the cool cloth on her forehead slid slightly.A hand reached out to adjust it. A large, rough hand that she knew.Vespera turned her head.Cyprian was sitting in a wingback chair pulled right up to the edge of the bed. He looked nothing like the c







