2:00 PM. Walter Corp Headquarters.

The city was still buzzing.

Every digital billboard in New York screamed updates about the Cross–Carter Saga. Talking heads dissected Damian’s press conference frame by frame. Bloggers argued over whether Aria was a victim, a gold digger, or a criminal mastermind. Paparazzi swarmed Cross Empire like vultures circling something not quite dead yet.

But Aria wasn’t there.

She slipped out of the penthouse through a service exit, sunglasses oversized, scarf pulled low. Not hiding.

Choosing.

Walter Corp rose like a blade of glass against the skyline—quiet, controlled, untouched by scandal. This was Lucas’s kingdom. Smaller than Damian’s, but sharper. Meaner.

The receptionist froze when she...