Arora fell silent after revealing the darkest, most vulnerable fragment of her childhood.
The sharp, terrifying confidence that usually defined her voice had completely vanished into the dim blue night-lights of the executive lounge. The old memories had left a heavy, melancholy shadow across her delicate features—softening the hard, unforgiving lines of her posture. For a rare, fleeting moment in the quiet cabin, she didn't look like the untouchable Supreme Leader of the Black Rose, nor did she look like the formidable commander who made rival syndicates tremble.
She simply looked like Arora. A woman who had been forced to grow up far too fast, carrying the weight of a shattered kingdom on her shoulders.
Jude sat beside her, watching her in absolute silence.
