The victory party didn't happen in a gilded ballroom or a crowded Midtown club. It took place forty stories above Park Avenue in the sleek, glass-encased War Room of our newly established Manhattan headquarters.
By 2:00 AM, the city below was a quiet grid of amber streetlights and slick asphalt reflection. Inside the suite, the floor-to-ceiling diagnostic monitors hummed in soft azure hues, displaying the seamless migration of three hundred and forty billion dollars in institutional clearing volume from Apex Global into the Nemesis Secaucus core.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, my wool trench coat tossed over a nearby leather sofa. I wore my charcoal blazer over the cream silk blouse, a crystal glass of neat amber whiskey resting untouched between my leather-gloved fingers. My eye
