Confirmation that the life he’d chosen—sharp, streamlined, expensive—was correct.
Miles stood in front of the full-length mirror near his desk, adjusting the cuff of his tailored jacket, rehearsing the version of himself he intended to present to the world that night.
Confident. Decisive. Unburdened.
No photo description available.
The Atlantic Sovereign Gala wasn’t just a social event. It was an annual declaration of dominance—money, influence, and the right kind of names gathered under chandeliers to remind one another that they ran the city.
Miles had spent five years climbing toward this moment. Building his company. Building his reputation. Convincing himself that success required subtraction as much as effort.
Behind him, Colin Brewer waited with a digital tablet, already sensing that this final review would carry consequences far beyond logistics. Miles always became colder when he believed he was close to victory.
“The guest list is finalized and queued for security clearance,” Colin said carefully.
