The next morning came with sharp skies and a biting wind. The Burnett Foundation courtyard was a buzz of activity—security teams, camera crews, and press managers fluttered like birds preparing for a storm. Every screen bore the same golden logo: a stylized phoenix rising from ink-black flames.

Sophie adjusted her gold-plated name badge as she stood backstage in the Belgium Tech Theatre. Her nerves were quiet, her mind still. Not calm—focused. Years ago, she would have hidden behind someone else, let a spokesperson take the spotlight. But that woman no longer existed.

“Three minutes,” a crew member called.

Alexander approached, earpiece in, phone in one hand. “You good?” he asked....