The top floor of the Imperial Crest tower was wrapped in silence. Glass walls framed the fading crimson sky, and the last light of dusk spilled into the executive suite, painting long, sharp shadows over the black marble floors. At the center of it all stood Romanov Graves, her silhouette carved against the skyline like a sovereign overlooking her realm. The air was cool, touched with the faint scent of steel and expensive perfume.
Her white suit glimmered faintly beneath the ambient lights, immaculate against the oncoming night. Behind her, analysts and security personnel sat before glowing terminals, eyes flicking through encrypted files, transaction chains, camera feeds. A symphony of quiet keystrokes filled the room, but Romanov's presence ruled above it all.
