Malia stared out the floor-to-ceiling window of her office, watching the city hum with the chaotic rhythm of a Monday morning. Cars zipped by in hurried streams below, and towering buildings stood stoic, a symbol of ambition and power. She took a deep breath, the weight of the last year pressing against her chest like an invisible hand. Things had calmed—on the surface, at least. Evelyn was out of their lives, Selene was a ghost of the past, and her business was slowly regaining its footing. Yet the scars of betrayal and constant vigilance remained, faint but raw.
Her phone buzzed on the desk, breaking her reverie. It was a text from Nixus:
Lunch later? Thought we could celebrate.
Celebrate what? she wondered. Every step forward felt like walking a tightrope—steady progress, yes, but always with the risk of falling into chaos again. She typed a quick reply: Sounds good. Noon? My place?
