6″The lobby’s chaos, but she’s still—leaning by the espresso bar, calm like the market’s never touched her. I clock the blazer, the quiet confidence. Not a trader. Not like the rest.
“You don’t work here, You don’t move like you’re on a clock.”
She glances over. “I’m waiting for someone who thinks he controls one.”
“Julian King, right?”
*“Depends who’s asking.”
She steps into the elevator. “Coming?”*
Yeah. I’m all in.
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