Maxwell's POV
I stood before the floor-to-ceiling window of my new office, the morning light glinting off the sleek surfaces, illuminating the city below.
Outside, life stirred: cars glided through the streets, and distant sirens melded into the urban symphony. The recent rain left the pavement glistening, reflecting the world like polished steel.
Every aspect of the room—the polished oak desk, the minimalist furnishings, the single abstract painting on the far wall—mirrored my singular vision: efficient, purposeful, unyielding.
I traced the outline of the ring on my left hand. Its unremarkable band belied the tempest of significance it carried.
To the public, it announced my engagement to Amira. To insiders, it was a challenge—a gauntlet thrown at Aiden's feet, striking a blow against the old regime's perceived invulnerability.
