A few minutes before noon, Miguel and Lia pulled up to the towering glass facade of AML Dynamics in a taxi, clad in their Sunday best.
Yet, despite their desperate efforts to appear refined and put-together, they resembled two misplaced relics awkwardly thrust into a world of steel, gloss, and ruthless sophistication.
Taking in a long, shaky breath, Lia exhaled slowly, forcing out every trace of anxiety and doubt that clung to her like smoke.
She turned to her husband, her eyes steely, and her voice sharp.
"Let me do the talking, Miguel. Just follow my lead and whatever you do, don't mess this up."
Miguel shot her a glare, his pride bruised.
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child, Lia. I'm your husband, not some idiot. I know exactly what this mission means for us."
Lia clenched her jaw, barely suppressing the urge to snap. She took in a shallow breath, forcing a civil tone.
"Very well. It's good to know we understand each other."
