The transition from wartime footing to peacetime monopoly was surprisingly jarring.
For months, the forty-second floor of Rebuild Tech had operated like the bridge of a battleship under active fire. Every line of code Iralis wrote was a counter-measure; every acquisition Diana structured was a tactical strike; every PR spin Sophie deployed was a smoke screen.
Now, the smoke had cleared. The guns were silent.
It was mid-December. Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass, Manhattan was wrapped in the crisp, blinding white of a heavy, sustained snowfall. Inside the Sanctum, the temperature was perfectly controlled, the air smelling faintly of polished wood and espresso.
