Chapter 85 The Vault's Shadow

• The morning light poured into the penthouse like a blade, cutting through the silence. Ariana sat at the long dining table, a map and several sheets of paper spread before her. Her hair was tied up in a loose knot, though strands had fallen across her face. A half-empty cup of coffee cooled by her elbow, forgotten.
• She had barely slept, her mind replaying Marcus’s last words on a loop. The vault. The code.
• Damien entered quietly, his presence filling the room before he spoke. He wore a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, his expression sharp but unreadable. He placed a folder on the table.