~LAYLA~
Three days.
That's how long it had taken for the dust to settle.
I stood in the executive elevator of O'Brien Tower, watching the floor numbers climb. The mirrors reflected a woman who looked nothing like the terrified wife who had sat in that dark boardroom seventy-two hours ago.
Gone was the black dress and the smudged mascara.
Today, I wore a tailored white suit that fit like armour. My hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and my lips were painted a deep crimson. I looked like a woman who had walked through fire and hadn't even singed a hem.
"You ready, ma'am?" Tye asked. He was standing beside me, looking sharp in a fresh suit, though he favoured his left side slightly where his old wound sometimes ached.
"Ready," I said, smoothing the lapel of my jacket. "How's the mood in the boardroom?"
