Serena stood at the head of the table, tablet in hand, every movement precise. She scanned the options with a trained eye, her posture rigid but elegant.

Roman leaned back in his chair, sleeves rolled up, watching her more than the papers. He had always enjoyed watching her work, the way she orchestrated details like an expert but this time, it was personal.

“It’s his first birthday,” she said, voice calm, clipped. “Not a political summit.”

“It will feel like one,” Roman replied dryly, one eyebrow raised. “Half the city’s elite will be there.”

She didn’t look at him, focusing instead on a small stack of invitations.

“I want it...