Amara Lyselle despised mornings like this. The kind where she wasn't dealing with amusing personal chaos or even the lingering ache of saying goodbye to Elara, but with something far more sinister: corporate politics.
She sat in the back seat of her car, glaring at the tablet displaying the profile of Richard Croft, the largest shareholder of Lyselle Media. The man was practically a caricature of corporate elitism a barrel chest, graying temples, and a penchant for spouting Latin phrases during board meetings to remind everyone he had a classical education.
Amara closed the profile with a flick of her finger, resisting the urge to hurl the tablet across the car. "Why can't these people just let me exist in peace?" she muttered, leaning her head back against the seat.
[Because you exist to serve the empire, Your Majesty.]
"Not now," she growled at the invisible system.