"ARIA," I subvocalized. "Status."

Her voice came through bone conduction, audible only to me—smooth as expensive whiskey with an edge that promised she was three steps ahead and enjoying it.

"Master, I'm currently monitoring forty-nine conversations simultaneously, and honestly? Watching billionaires beg is more entertaining than I anticipated. Current investment interest sits at $12.7 billion dollars in proposed capital. Twenty-three poor souls have requested gold-tier evaluation meetings, clutching their portfolios like security blankets.

"Six are interested in platinum tier, though two of them clearly can't actually afford it and I'm enjoying watching them pretend. And Sterling—oh, Sterling has asked about Liberation Holdings eleven times to eleven different people. He's becoming delightfully obsessed. No one has any information beyond what was presented at the auction, which is making him spiral beautifully."

"Good. Keep him frustrated."

"Oh, I intend to. Watching powerful men realize they're not the smartest person in the room is my new favorite hobby."

Across the ballroom, Madison held court near the western windows, surrounded by eight people including—fuck me—Edward Sterling.

"Though for the record, I'm adding 'ARIA's Sterling Babysitting Service' to the list of things you owe me for."

"You're my AGI. What the fuck would I even owe you?"

"A body would be nice for starters. Preferably one that looks like Scarlett Johansson but taller. With better, bigger boobs and—"

"ARIA."

"Fine. But I'm keeping a running tab."

Madison was explaining something while a woman in crimson silk and a man in Brioni hung on every word.

She'd positioned herself with her back to the windows, the city lights framing her like a crown.

Fucking magnificent.

"—which is why we focus on undervalued properties with strong fundamentals," Madison was saying. "The Celestial Grand wasn't undervalued because it was failing. It was undervalued because the Montclairs needed liquidity and couldn't wait for the market to catch up to the property's true worth. We provided that liquidity. In five years, this building will be worth two billion minimum."

"You're very confident," the woman in crimson said. French accent, probably. "What if the market crashes?"

Madison smiled. "Then we wait. Liberation Holdings doesn't operate on quarterly earnings pressure. We're not beholden to shareholders demanding immediate returns. We can hold assets for decades if necessary."

"Decades," Sterling repeated, skeptical. "That's a long time to tie up eight hundred and fifty million dollars."

"It would be," Madison agreed, turning to face him directly, "if that were our only investment. But Liberation Holdings has significant capital reserves and multiple revenue streams. The Celestial Grand is one piece of a much larger portfolio."

"How large?" Sterling asked.

"Large enough," Madison replied, her smile sharpening. "Though I'm curious, Mr. Sterling—you bid quite aggressively today. Seven hundred and twenty million and beyond. What was your plan?"

Sterling's jaw tightened. "Luxury hotel conversion. The location is prime, the building is historic." He knew Madison as Peter Carter's fiancée and that really must be infuriating.

"Interesting." Madison tilted her head. "Though I'd argue the LA luxury market lacks truly exclusive experiences. The kind that can't be replicated. The kind that make people feel like they're accessing something forbidden."

She gestured at the ballroom around them.

"This reception, for example. Fifty invitations. In a city of four million people. That's more exclusive than Harvard's admission rate. More exclusive than getting a reservation at The French Laundry. And everyone here knows it. They feel it. That's what real luxury is—the knowledge that you're inside a space where most people will never be allowed."

Silence.

Sterling's expression shifted to something like grudging respect. "You're Madison Torres. Torres Developments."

"I am."

"Your family's built half of downtown US's biggest projects."

"More than half, actually. We also built almost each major building in California and other major states."

"And you're working with Liberation Holdings?"

"I'm a partner," Madison corrected. "Liberation Holdings values strategic relationships with established development firms. Torres Developments brings generational expertise. Liberation Holdings brings capital and advanced technology."

"Technology," Sterling repeated. "The holographic watch."

"Among other things."

"Where did that come from? I've been in tech investment for thirty years. I've seen prototypes from Apple, Google, Meta. Nothing comes close."

Madison's smile widened. "Quantum Tech operates about fifteen to twenty years ahead of conventional consumer technology companies, look at their current AI. It is 80% beyond what current AI can do. The QT-7 is remarkable, but it's not even their most advanced project."

"What is?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it. But if you're genuinely interested in technology investment opportunities, Liberation Holdings does occasionally bring strategic partners into Quantum Tech co-development agreements."

"At what level?"

"Platinum tier and above."

Two billion dollars.

Sterling's face remained carefully neutral, but I could see the calculation happening.

"I'd like to schedule a meeting," Sterling said finally.

"Of course. Though I should mention—Liberation Holdings is currently evaluating strategic partnerships on a case-by-case basis. The three remaining gold-tier slots are reserved for individuals and institutions that align with our long-term vision." A lie.

"Which is?"

"To revolutionize how wealth is created, managed, and distributed. To take technologies that will define the next century and make them accessible to people who understand their value."

Pretty words.

Noble-sounding.

And just vague enough to mean anything.

Sterling nodded slowly. "I'll have my office contact Liberation Holdings tomorrow."

"We look forward to it."

He moved away, but his eyes kept tracking back to Madison.

Good.

Let him wonder.

By the time he figured out the puzzle—if he ever did—we'd be too established to challenge.

Near the eastern edge, Amanda was demonstrating QT-7 technology to fascinated tech investors.

"ARIA. Status update."

Her voice carried smug satisfaction. "Investment interest has climbed to fourteen point three billion dollars in proposed capital. The desperation levels are rising proportionally—twenty-eight formal gold-tier evaluation requests now, each one more eager than the last. Seven platinum-tier inquiries including two sovereign wealth funds who are trying very hard to appear casual about committing billions. And Sterling?"

She paused for effect. "Master, he's moved past 'curious' straight into 'unhealthily obsessed.' His heart rate spikes every time Madison moves. It's adorable. And by adorable, I mean pathetic."

"Let him," I murmured. "Obsession makes people sloppy."

"Agreed. Though between you and me, watching him try to casually corner Madison again while I redirect every attempt is the highlight of my evening. I've cockblocked him seven times. I'm going for ten."

The reception continued.

Money flowed.

And in the shadows, I watched my queens work.

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