
Elara’s POV
I sat at the polished mahogany desk, the one Rhys used for his early morning calls, a ghost of his presence still lingering in the scent of his cologne and the faint warmth of his chair. Outside, the city hummed, a distant, muffled orchestra of ambition and noise, but inside the penthouse, it was a world of hushed silence. Just me, the vast, shimmering expanse of the city below, and a decision that felt both terrifying and exquisitely right.

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