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.