The JTC Management headquarters was a monolithic spire of glass and steel, a place where dreams were either manufactured or methodically dismantled. Scarlett strode through the lobby, the sharp staccato of her heels against the marble floor sounding like a rhythmic countdown. She felt a strange surge of adrenaline; for the first time, she wasn't following a script written by Julian or Joshua. She was finally writing her own.
Inside the glass-walled conference room, Sean was already waiting. He looked effortlessly composed in a charcoal suit, a stark contrast to the rain-drenched jacket he had worn the night before. When he saw Scarlett, a thin, knowing smile played on his lips.
"I wasn't sure you'd show up," Sean said, standing to pull out a chair for her. "After last night's chaos, I half-expected Julian to lock you away in a gilded cage."
Scarlett sat down, her expression a mask of professional frost. "Julian doesn't hold the keys to my career, Sean. Let's look at the contract."
