C599 599

Julian Thorne’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, the kind that never quite reached his eyes. Behind the gleam of his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze was sharp—piercing, deliberate—as it locked onto Arthur Vance like a blade finding its mark.

“President Vance,” he said calmly, almost lazily, “it seems you have an issue with me?”

The words were simple.

But the impact—

Immediate