Morana's Point Of View
The gala was everything it was promised to be... opulent, high-profile, and buzzing with the kind of energy only the top one percent could afford to exude. Crystalline chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings like frozen fireworks.
Golden light glimmered on every polished surface, from the marbled floors to the champagne flutes that floated from hand to hand.
I stood at the edge of the grand staircase, overlooking the ballroom of the Sinclair Groups Headquarters our latest architectural triumph. The glass-paneled walls offered a glittering view of the city skyline, the moonlight casting a halo around the entire structure like something out of a dream.
Except this wasn't a dream.
This was my empire now.
Nancy approached from my left, all sleek bun, pressed navy pantsuit, and professional poise.
"CEO of the year," she whispered as she handed me a tablet showing headlines already lighting up online.
