The soft light of the Parisian morning filtered through the grand windows of the conference room, casting golden streaks across the polished mahogany table. From her seat at the head, Amara Lyselle sipped her espresso, its bitter warmth a fleeting distraction from the weight of the meeting ahead.
The room was a symphony of quiet opulence ornate crown moldings curved along the ceiling, while a massive crystal chandelier shimmered above, catching the morning light in delicate prisms. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the waking city below, the distant hum of Parisian life just faint enough to be ignored but present enough to ground her.
She straightened the cuff of her tailored black blazer, a subtle gesture to center herself. This meeting wasn't supposed to be anything monumental a preliminary discussion about potential partnerships between Lyselle Media and several European production houses but Amara knew better than anyone how quickly the mundane could become critical.
