The campus playground was a wide, open stretch of athletic fields and concrete courts at the eastern edge of Peak University. At this hour, late morning, most students between classes, it was sparsely populated, which made the scene at its center all the more conspicuous.
Vivian Reeves was standing in the middle of the main court like a general surveying a battlefield.
She was dressed in a crisp white ensemble, fitted blazer, tailored trousers, her blonde hair swept up in the same high bun she'd worn yesterday, and she was flanked by more than a dozen bodyguards in matching black suits, arranged in a loose semicircle behind her like a human barricade. The overall effect was somewhere between a fashion editorial and a military inspection.
She saw Stan approaching and straightened her posture by exactly one degree, the subtle adjustment of a woman who wanted to make absolutely sure she was looking down at whoever walked up to her, even if they were taller.
