The penthouse lights stayed dim even in daylight.Vanessa preferred it that way. Bright rooms invited comfort. Comfort dulled edges. She needed everything sharp.Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city like a living blueprint. From this height, roads became arteries, buildings like organs with money and influence flowing invisibly beneath the surface. Damien stood near the glass with tablet in hand, jacket off and sleeves rolled, the posture of a man who had stopped asking why and moved straight into how fast.“You were right,” he said without turning. “It’s not corruption in pieces. It’s a system.”Vanessa didn’t respond immediately. She was standing at the central table...the one they’d converted into a working map...hands resting flat on the surface. Screens hovered above it, data projected in layers: company registries, nonprofit shells, donor records, municipal permits, procurement contracts.She spoke calmly. Too calmly. “Start at the center.”Damien tapped the screen. The ima
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