Three months after the heart trial, Seraphina stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Silverstone Industries executive conference room, watching London spread out below like a glittering circuit board. The morning sun caught the Thames just right, turning it into molten gold threading through the city. Beautiful, sure. But what really made her smile was the stack of quarterly reports on the mahogany table behind her.
Numbers didn't lie. And these numbers were singing opera.
"Ma'am?" James Morrison's voice carried that particular tone people used when they were trying not to sound completely amazed. "The final verification just came through from our Hong Kong office. We're officially up four hundred and twelve percent from this quarter last year."
