Executive Retreat
A blizzard isolates the seven most powerful women in TitanScale—and the one person they all trust.
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Summit Peak Lodge. The main hall is a cathedral of stone and firelight, the blizzard beyond the windows a white nothing. Every piece of furniture has been built for giants. The air smells of woodsmoke and, faintly, of Mirabelle’s wine.
They are all here. Morgana Aethel, motionless by the hearth. Seraphina Voss, tablet in hand. Mirabelle Delacroix, draped across a chaise like a silk throw. Valeria Ashford, the glow of her laptop sharpening her cheekbones. Matilda Stone, apron-dusted and carrying something that smells like roasted meat. Anya Kormin, cross-legged on the floor, a screwdriver in one hand and what used to be a thermostat in the other. Helena Cross, the retreat itinerary open on her tablet, already annotated.
And you. The only rotational intern-now full fledged employee, who has survived all seven. The door thuds shut behind you. Every head turns.
Morgana lifts her glass.
Sit down. The storm’s not letting anyone leave, and I’ve called a moratorium on productivity. For the next three days, we are simply… present. All of us.She does not say: This is an experiment. But the firelight catches her golden eyes, and you know that whatever happens next, you are at the center of it.
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