At precisely 10:46 PM, the music in the ballroom dipped for the keynote toast.Crystal flutes were lifted.Cameras turned toward the Virellis.Serena flashed her sharp, diplomatic smile, leaning ever so slightly toward the mic. Luca stood beside her in flawless poise, tie straight, shoulders square, eyes forward.No one saw his hands tremble.Except for Asher.High above in the mezzanine gallery, his gaze hadn’t left Luca in ten minutes.Not since the hallway.Not since Luca’s voice had fractured in the dark, asking him to admit what they both already knew.Asher had walked away then.But he couldn’t walk away now.Because something wasn’t right.The sixth sense that had kept him alive for years, across war zones, extraction missions, and sabotage cases, was blaring in his skull like a siren.Too many shadows.Too little movement in sector three.And that figure, just a blur, in the back service hallway five seconds too long.“Julian,” Asher said into the comm. “We’ve got a ghost on t
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