Adrain's PovThe phone felt heavy in my hand, almost like it was vibrating with the toxic energy of the person on the other end. I hadn't spoken to Martha since the day I watched her get into that black car, stripped of her dignity. I had exiled her to a villa in the South of France, a cage meant to keep her far away from the empire she nearly destroyed. But as the clock ticked toward 5:00 PM, I realized that Tristan’s greatest weapon was the past, a past he had curated and falsified. And there was only one person alive who had lived through every ugly second of Thomas Wolfe’s reign. I hit dial. The line rang three times before a familiar, sharp voice answered. "I wondered how long it would take for the ice to crack, Adrian," Martha said. She sounded exactly the same—composed, arrogant, and entirely unimpressed. "Don't flatter yourself, Martha," I said, my voice tight. "I’m calling because Tristan has overplayed his hand. He’s trying to absorb *Horizon* and dismantle the Board. He
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