Camilla's POV
The boardroom went dead silent when I stepped through the doors. Even after all these years, it still caught me off guard how quickly conversations died, how every gaze turned my way like I was pulling some invisible string. Not that I minded. In Italy, my name carried enough weight to shift entire markets.
Camilla Marvin.
Two words that could green-light multimillion-dollar deals, open doors across continents, and crush anyone stupid enough to cross me.
I reached for the sleek remote sitting on the gleaming conference table. The polished surface threw back the harsh fluorescent lighting, and for just a moment, I saw my own reflection staring back. Sharp. Focused. Ready.
The wall-mounted screen flickered to life as I pressed the button, bathing the sterile room in bright light.
