The building didn't look like much from the outside. A modest, two-floor structure nestled between a flower boutique and a vintage camera shop. No signs. No banners. Just smoked-glass doors and a matte-black panel beside them. It was invisible — by design.
Alexis stepped through the entrance and into a room still echoing with recent labor. The scent of wood polish lingered in the air, mingling with a faint metallic sharpness from newly installed fixtures. The walls were still bare. Half-covered counters waited to be unwrapped. Shelves leaned against corners like soldiers yet to be stationed.
He moved with measured steps, eyes skimming over every inch. This was the canvas. Not the battlefield of old strategies and infiltration — but one of luxury, of presentation, of intent.
No logos.
No slogans.
Just space.
And silence.
He crossed to the far end, where the main display table would soon stand. The velvet overlay had arrived early. It rested like nightfall over the counter, soft to the touch and dark as ink. Alexis placed a hand on it, then opened the small lockbox he carried.
Inside sat the Founder's Ring.
Gold folded into itself in a subtle coil, a design that whispered sovereignty without declaring it. He lifted it gently, slid it into the center of the velvet, and stepped back.
One item. No signage. No brand tag.
Just presence.
The system chimed in his earpiece.
System: "Update: Founder's Assembly invitations have been delivered and acknowledged. Civilian reactions logged."
Alexis raised an eyebrow. "Let's hear it."
System: "Camille Vossa responded with: 'You don't call something a founder's meeting unless you mean business. I'll be ready.'"
He smiled faintly. That was expected. Camille didn't like fluff.
System: "Linh Tran replied: 'Am I getting a cloak? A throne? Or is this more "anonymous power circle" vibe?'"
"Give her a digital cloak," Alexis muttered dryly. "Make it shimmer blue."
System: "Done."
System: "Marco Di Volterra responded: 'So it begins. Legacy must always start in quiet rooms.'"
Alexis paused. Marco had a way with words that always felt heavier than they should. He looked at the ring again. That was legacy, right there.
He walked the perimeter of the space, mentally sectioning it off. The left wall would hold high-security drawers — hidden compartments for private designs. The right wall would be left bare except for track lighting. Each customer would see only the product and their own reflection.
In the rear, he envisioned a lounge area for one-on-one consultations. No more than one client at a time. There would be no walk-ins. Every piece was a conversation.
A soft ping.
System: "Interior elements arriving. Confirm flooring?"
Alexis tapped the screen. "Dark wood. Matte finish."
System: "Confirmed. Display cases?"
"Velvet-lined, frosted glass. Hidden LED lighting. One central, two auxiliary."
System: "Do you wish to add a scent to the room? Suggestions include jasmine, cedarwood, or myrrh."
"No scent," he said immediately. "Let them feel unsettled by how calm it is."
System: "Understood."
The system hummed as it shifted tasks. Linh had recently installed an admin portal to manage both the boutique's civilian front and the encrypted backend for orders. The boutique had a soft launch landing page now, just a name, a contact request form, and a single image: the blurred silhouette of a ring.
By the time Alexis had finished inspecting the final wall bracket, his phone vibrated again. This time, a simple message from Camille:
Camille: "Request: interior designer brief?"
He responded: "Clean. No colors. Minimalist materials. Nothing decorative. Think: monastery meets private gallery."
A simple thumbs-up appeared seconds later.
Alexis set down his phone and crouched by the central display. The box containing the Founder's Ring waited quietly.
He lifted the ring again and turned it in his fingers.
No marketing. No sales pitch. The object sells the story.
Behind him, a faint rustle.
The cleaner — a middle-aged woman hired through an agency Camille had vetted — entered carrying a cloth and a small bag of tools. She paused at the edge of the room, eyes drawn to the velvet and gold.
She stared at the ring, then murmured, almost absently, "I've never seen something that looks… expensive in silence."
Alexis didn't turn around. He just smiled.
"Good," he said quietly. "That's what it's meant to do."
She gave a polite nod and moved to clean the windows.
Alexis stayed in place a while longer, watching the way the light hit the velvet, how the gold seemed to absorb the glow rather than reflect it. The store wasn't open. It wasn't even finished.
But it had already begun.
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