Silas was in his private lounge when Nial entered, knocking lightly before stepping inside. The dark, elegant room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the vintage clock on the wall. Silas sat on a leather armchair by the window, dressed in his usual dark suit, sleeves rolled to his forearms, a laptop in front of him—but he hadn't typed a word in twenty minutes.
"Boss," Nial began, his tone calm but urgent, "Ma'am is doing her press conference now."
The words made Silas's eyes flick up, his entire posture sharpening. He stood instantly. "Turn on the TV."
Without delay, Nial crossed the room and grabbed the remote, switching the television on and tuning it to the live coverage. The screen lit up, showing a glittering stage adorned with soft golden light and an elegant Celestria logo in the backdrop. The audience was full of reporters, stylists, critics, and potential collaborators.
And then there she was.
Avery.
