Chapter 72

• My hair was a wreck matted, sticky, and tangled from too many sleepless nights and back-to-back negotiations that bled straight into crisis management. There were knots so tight I could barely run my fingers through them, and at some point, I’d stopped caring if I looked presentable. I looked... spent.
• The navy power suit I’d been wearing for three days straight had smudges of coffee, ink, and what I could only hope wasn’t blood from the boardroom implosion earlier. My face was a dull palette of exhaustion, smeared eyeliner, and grit. Even the street vendors outside Tower HQ were better put together than me right now.
• “You okay?” Rafael asked softly, standing at the edge of the strategy suite. His eyes scanned me, and I could tell he was remembering the version of me from three years ago before the engagement, before the betrayal, before I burned everything to the ground just to start again.