It's 11:00 a.m. sharp at The Meridian—a towering glass museum that smells like curated exclusivity and expensive scandal. The press has been summoned, the photographers are caffeinated, and the influencers are sharpening their hashtags.
Enter: Eva Summers, in an ivory pantsuit so crisp it could slice through steel. Her heels clack against the marble like a countdown to chaos. Beside her, Xian Zhang drips unapologetic power—black-on-black suit, smug aura, and the expression of a man who's been plotting this reveal since the Renaissance.
"Is the lighting good?" Eva murmurs under her breath.
Xian glances up at the ornate skylight above. "If it gets any better, the Virgin Mary might descend. Relax. You look stunning in vengeance."
Cameras flash as the two stride up to the podium like it's a fashion runway and the world is just an audience that hasn't bought front-row tickets yet.
