Кадр выше наш. Полное медиа с Facebook запрошено — подставим его сюда, как только приедет.
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The air in the master bedroom was too cold. It was the first thing Aurora Vance registered before her eyes even opened. It wasn't just the ambient temperature of the central air conditioning set to a sterile sixty-eight degrees; it was a chill that seemed to radiate from her own bones, a phantom sensation from a death she had already died. She gasped, her body jerking upright in the king-sized bed. The sheets, Egyptian cotton with a thread count higher than her credit score used to be, clung to her damp skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was the rhythm of survival. She pressed her palms against her face. Her skin felt warm, alive. She wasn't in the hospital bed anymore. She wasn't listening to the flatline of the monitor while Sterling Thorne held a press conference about his "grief" in the lobby. Aurora lowered her hands and looked around. The room was aggressively modern. Chrome accents, black leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the grey expanse of the Manhattan skyline. It was a cage disguised as a penthouse. She turned her head to the digital clock on the nightstand. 7:00 AM. October 14th. The date hit her like a physical blow. October 14th. The day Sterling Thorne was scheduled to ring the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange. The day Thorne Industries would announce their "revolutionary" new algorithm. The algorithm she had written on a cracked laptop in the laundry room while Sterling was out networking. But more importantly, today was the day he would discard her. The heavy oak door to the bedroom swung open with a violence that made the crystal vase on the dresser tremble. Sterling Thorne walked in. He was already dressed in a bespoke charcoal suit, his hair coiffed to perfection. He looked like every magazine cover he had ever graced: handsome, sharp, and utterly hollow. He was adjusting his diamond cufflinks, his attention focused entirely on his reflection in
