Liana’s POV

The city below looks like it’s made of glass and ash. Z-Core Tower gleams against the morning light, its mirrored skin catching every illusion I helped build.

I used to love this view, the sense of order, the illusion of being above the chaos. But now, all I see is reflection: lies polished until they shine.

On my desk, the evidence sits in quiet accusation, a laptop, three encrypted drives, and a folder of legal documents I haven’t signed yet. My hands hover above the ...