Chapter 52 Who Is She Again?

• The glass doors of Devlin Towers parted with a seamless hush, ushering in a crisp shift in temperature. Rosie stepped forward, heels clicking against the marble in a rhythm too measured to be entirely natural. She knew it. Felt it. The grandeur around her stretched upward in steel and glass, sculpted for one purpose: to impress—or overwhelm, depending on who was looking.
• It worked.
• Her chin lifted slightly, a quiet rebellion against the tightness in her chest. The chandelier above wasn’t merely modern—it dripped light, cascading in frozen movement like something too delicate for human hands to have crafted. The walls gleamed, polished to a standard so immaculate it bordered on unnerving.