The polished brass of the executive elevator felt like a cage, the air thick with the ghosts of the lobby confrontation. Seraphina’s shrill, calculated accusations, Julian’s slick performance of sympathy, the after-image of a hundred camera flashes—it was a sensory assault designed to leave us reeling before the first punch was even thrown in the boardroom.
"He's armed, Seraphina," I stated, the icy calm of my voice surprising me. "The pieces weren't just clicking into place; they were forming a mosaic of pure malice. "He's feeding her a narrative of the scorned woman to poison the Schmitt family against you from within. He's turning your personal life into a weapon against your company."
"It's a vintage Croft maneuver," Sterling growled, the sound a low rumble of thunder. He straightene
