The Legal Thread

The penthouse was no longer a sanctuary; it was a glass cage with a ticking clock. Julian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his silhouette sharp against the city lights, his hand resting on his phone as he received a curt update from his security lead.

“The elevator has been overridden,” Julian said, his voice stripped of its usual boardroom polish. “They’re in the lobby, Elena. They didn’t come for a meeting; they came for a cleanup.”

Elena didn’t look up from the terminal. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, the blue light of the monitor reflecting in her eyes. The digital trail Thorne had left—the signature

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