“The empire is bleeding, Celeste. And Lucian is the one holding the knife.”

Marcus’s voice sounded thin over the satellite delay, stripped of its usual iron-clad composure. Celeste stood in the middle of a bustling London park, the vibrant green of the grass and the laughter of playing children feeling like a fever dream compared to the cold, corporate slaughter Marcus was describing.

“He has board members, Marcus. He has a legal team. He has Emelia,” Celeste replied, her voice tight as she gripped her phone. “I’m a ghost in London. I don’t exist in his world anymore.”

“Emelia is the one sharpening the knife,” Marcus snapped back, his frustration...