The Breaking Point

The air in the Grand Meridian’s presidential suite tasted of ozone and expensive, suffocating silk. Elena stood before the mirror, her reflection no longer the ghost of a discarded wife, but a woman who had finally learned to weaponize her own ruin. She adjusted the diamond-encrusted clasp of her clutch—the housing for the final, decrypted ledger page that would dismantle the Vance legacy.

Julian Thorne stood behind her, his reflection a dark, immovable silhouette. He didn't offer the hollow comfort of a partner; he offered the cold, hard utility of an a

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