PREVIEW

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The mayor’s private lounge was nothing short of a monument to arrogance.

Gold-trimmed marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of extravagant chandeliers, while floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Neo-Luminara’s skyline, a view that felt like gazing upon a conquered kingdom.

Damien Armitage reclined in a high-backed chair, swirling a glass of Solaris Vintage, his lips curling into a smug smile.

Across from him sat Arthur, lou ...

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Molitia Clemence was born sickly.

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“Yes.” (Molitia)

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