The first time Maya's mother took Elena downstairs to visit the ordinary floors of the Shard, the building's entire corporate hierarchy shifted permanently.
Not through policy.
Not through violence.
Through grandmotherhood.
It happened on a Thursday afternoon, exactly five weeks into Elena Sterling's life. The vicious winter blizzard that had trapped Manhattan beneath ice and white skies for nearly a month had finally broken overnight, leaving behind a crisp blue horizon that glittered against the glass spine of the Shard.
For the first time since the delivery, Maya had managed to spend three uninterrupted hours in the penthouse study with Reid, reviewing agricultural shipping routes for the Valenica island expansion project—a dead Vance-era initiative she had personally dragged back into relevance.
The study was warm with soft golden light, the massive digital wall displaying cargo projections and climate-adjusted harvest schedules.
