The city glittered far below Ashridge Tower, glass and steel bowing to the night sky like silent witnesses. But behind the mirrored walls of the 73rd floor, Elara Quinn was plotting something more dangerous than any business coup.
She was plotting freedom.
And the game had just begun.
---
The Morning After the Launch
The marble floors of the Ashridge residence felt colder than usual beneath Elara's bare feet. She wandered toward the grand dining hall, her silk robe barely tied, still hungover from the adrenaline of her media debut the night before.
The moment she walked in, all three brothers turned.
Caius sat at the head of the table, black shirt crisp, unreadable expression on his face as he read the financial reports.
Ares leaned back in his chair, sipping dark coffee, watching her like a soldier would study a bomb.
Lucien, shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled, smirked as he spun a spoon between his fingers.
