Private jet sliced through the clouds on our flight back to Los Angeles. I watched the horizon, a thin line of violet and gold, feeling the steady hum of the engines beneath my feet. Beside me, Julian was buried in a thick stack of legal briefs, his brow furrowed in concentration. We had spent the last few days in a whirlwind of activity, closing out my final scenes in New York while simultaneously preparing for the board meeting that would decide our future.
I reached for the folder Julian had prepared for me. Inside were the dossiers of every board member. I memorized their faces, their voting histories, and the whispered scandals that kept them awake at night. Information was the only currency that mattered in the world Julian lived in, and I refused to walk into that boardroom bankrupt.
