The penthouse's smart TV bled LIBERATION HOLDINGS LLC across the wall like a curse whispered in gold leaf. Three words that either meant revolution or delusion—a teenage fantasy forged in Delaware paperwork and ARIA's digital alchemy.
"What the fuck is Liberation Holdings?" Madison shot up from the sofa, her abandoned champagne flute trembling on the table. She leaned into the screen's glow, tracing the tentacled org chart with painted nails.
Charlotte unfolded herself from the couch like a coiled viper, exhaustion evaporating into razor-sharp focus. "You incorporated a company?" The question wasn't surprise. It was accusation.
"While we were handling this whole chaos." I claimed my seat at the table, chopsticks hovering over Soo-Jin's cooling kimchi. The air reeked of vinegar and ambition. "ARIA filed in Delaware three hours ago. Expedited processing, naturally."
