The command—“Let her take the deal”—was a masterstroke of psychological warfare. It wasn’t a threat; it was a chilling endorsement. Lena spent the night pacing her penthouse, the city lights below seeming to mock her with their silent, predictable patterns. Why would the enemy, who had tried to burn her foundation to the ground, want her to partner with a global studio? The answer, when it came to her in the cold light of dawn, was sickeningly simple: control.

Destroying the ...