By the final week of December, the chaotic roulette wheel of midnight cravings had finally ground to a halt, replaced by a heavy, consuming fatigue that anchored Maya to the penthouse. The Sovereign, who had once commanded boardrooms with a single glance, now found her entire world measured by the distance between the velvet sofa and the master bed. She was a week away from her due date, carrying high and heavy, her every movement requiring a slow, deliberate calculation.
Reid had systematically dismantled the concept of the Shard's executive floor.
He moved his entire global operation into the penthouse study. The massive LED screens that once monitored international stock fluctuations were now dimmed, casting a soft, muted glow across the room. The titans of Wall Street and the European compliance boards were forced to pitch multi-billion-dollar mergers via secure, encrypted video links—and they did so under a new, terrifying mandate.
