Asma chuckled. Callum nodded slowly.
“Would you say he’s a good person?” Leif asked.
That one landed heavier. Was he? Her mind flashed to the rude way he treated staff, the condescension, the entitlement, the lies. He was never the scientist, she had always done the work, but somehow she couldn’t erase the fact that they had been together for eight years, and somehow, somewhere in the past, she had loved him.
“He’s a rich kid raised in a toxic world. You can’t expect much.”
“I’m a rich kid,” Leif said quietly. “But I grew out of it.”
Sofia gave him a slow smile. “Then you’re already better than him.”
Just then, Gianpaolo reappeared, balancing pizzas in both hands.
With pizzas in front of them, Sofia added, “Whatever you have to do, do it. But you must be aware that the Whitmores have lots of money and lots of connections. I don’t know if an audit from a startup could change anything.”
“Well,” Asma said, smiling faintly, “we built Lamina because change doesn’t happen until someone’s willing to piss off the powerful. Guess it’s our turn.”
“Isn't that why you have founded Salacia?” Callum asked, his blue eyes set on her. “To show that you can be more than Neptune?”
Sofia took a deep breath, then nodded. “Yes. I just never believed I could actually make a difference.”
Leif shrugged. “I feel you’ve done a very good job, Sofia, in showing people the ocean from a close perspective. Imagine if those European Funds could land in Salacia’s lap instead of an old institution like Neptune.”
Sofia nodded, thoughtful. Who’s going to tell them that fake dating a pro surfer had pushed her career further? Was she better than Thomas, at that point?
42
ILIAS
Ateo – C.Tangana, NATHY PELUSO
Lowers was supposedto be better than Main Break. There was a bigger swell coming in the next few days, and Ilias was stoked to show off. Losing at Margaret still burned, but he hoped it would fuel him. He had something to prove. Plus, with the new Azul identity coming their way, they needed money. And the more he won, the more money came in.
As he paddled back to shore after catching a clean final wave, Amira rushed up, phone in hand. Her face was tight with urgency.
“What is it?” he asked, peeling off the top of his wetsuit.
“Ghita wants to talk. It’s important.”
“Can’t it wait? I just got out of the water.”
“IT’S FUCKING IMPORTANT!” Ghita’s voice screamed through the speaker.
He rolled his eyes and motioned for Amira to follow him to a quieter spot behind the Athlete Zone, away from other surfersand prying journalists. Even though Darjia wasn’t a common language in the surfing community, he really didn’t like people to know everything about his life. They already knew way too much about his private life and Sofia.
“What’s going on?” he asked, brushing hair from his face.
“I started talking to local vendors and hosts about the surf retreat. You know…accommodations, partnerships, community organizations…” Ghita was breathless, like she'd been pacing. “And I heard there's a big international business trying to buy a hotel in Imsoaune. They want to turn it into some fancy luxury resort, right in front of the beach. It’ll ruin everything. It’ll destroy the charm, the coastline.”
“We should have expected it,” Amira muttered, arms crossed. “Morocco’s becoming the new Bali. Europeans with money will squeeze everything out of it just like they did to Spain.”
“Do you know who’s behind it?” Ilias asked.
“Not yet. No official names. But I’ve asked around. Someone will get back to me.”
Ilias could see the strain on Ghita’s face through the screen, tight shoulders, red-rimmed eyes, the frustration simmering under every word.
“Ghita,” he said softly, “don’t panic, okay? We’ll figure it out. And if it doesn’t work—”
