Chapter 4 — Margot’s Warning

Cara

The faint scent of jasmine tea lingered in the air as I stepped into Margot Ellis’s penthouse, my heels clicking softly against the polished wood floor. The space was every bit as commanding as its owner—vaulted ceilings, curated art adorning the walls, and bookshelves lined with titles that seemed to whisper of authority and intellect. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the skyline, the city sprawling beneath us in a haze of muted opulence. The room radiated power—not the ostentatious kind, but a quiet, unshakable control that didn’t need to declare itself.