here the event was hosted. The venue boasted panoramic views of the cityscape, warm lighting, and luxurious champagne fountains. It was star-studded and exc

ince she walked in. Her usual playful glance was missing. That made him nervous. Ava leaned on the bar beside him. "You're late," he said. "I was fashionably preparing," she said with a teasing smirk. Bryan lifted a brow. "We had a schedule, Ava." She shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm here now. And I look good. Isn't that half the job?" He chuckled and handed her a glass. "Just stick close. Investors are watching." "Don't they always?" she said, clinking her glass with his. Then, with a glance at Leona across the room, Ava purred, "Wow. She looks stunning." He nodded. "She always does." Ava tilted her head and gave him a side glance. "You two okay?" He smirked. "We're always okay." But his voice didn't sound like it meant it. Sasha was doing what Sasha did best, observing. Dressed in a midnight blue gown with low heels and minimal makeup, she blended easily into the background. But nothing escaped her. She saw Bryan's stolen glances. She noticed Ava's strategic touches on his sleeve, her way of leaning in when she laughed. She made mental notes but said nothing. She walked over to the balcony for a moment of air and texted Leona: Bryan looks tense. Ava's doing too much. You okay? No reply. The music played low at first, an instrumental jazz rendition of 'Old Town Blues.' People were laughing, clicking glasses, and sharing congratulatory remarks. KaneWave had closed a deal with a streaming giant and the event was a big deal. Leona found herself cornered by a trio of board members from TechGroove. She smiled politely and held the glass of champagne like a prop. "So you're the face behind the golden files," one of them said. "We've been hearing a lot about you." She tilted her head. "All good things, I hope?" They laughed. "Depends on who's talking. We were quite impressed with that proposal. Tight formatting. Clear projections." Her smile thinned. That wasn't her work. That was Bryan's version. "I'm glad it was useful," she said, and excused herself. Elsewhere in the ballroom, Jason Carter entered quietly, flanked by Walker Zilensky. When he entered, the air shifted. He was dressed in a dark grey three-piece charcoal suit that looked too expensive to touch, no tie, with his shirt open at the neck. His hair was styled back effortlessly, a hint of scruff on his chin. Jason walked in with the energy of someone who didn't need to prove anything. His British coolness cut through the heated glamour of LA nightlife. Walker, tall and distinguished with silver hair and sharp eyes, muttered, "Why are we here again?" Jason smirked. "Curiosity." "And her?"