Novels by Sally Diandra

Matthew turned his gaze to Carol. The elderly woman seemed to shrink into her chair. Her legendary arrogance collapsed in the face of facts laid bare.“And you, Carol,” Matthew said, his voice softening, which only made it more terrifying. “You allowed this to happen. You cared more about your social status than your husband’s legacy. You almost sold your own daughter, Viviane, to Reginald Holt for a cash infusion that Dimitri was going to steal as well.”“This is ridiculous, Matthew,” Carol hissed, her voice trembling between anger and fear. “You think that just because you won a few contracts, you can dictate who sits on this board? This is the company my husband built.”“The company you nearly bankrupted, Carol,” Matthew replied flatly. His voice was not loud, yet it echoed with an authority that silenced the room.Matthew felt a sharp sting at his temple, a small price for total dominan

“Who am I?” Matthew chuckled, a cold sound that sent a shiver up Dimitri’s spine. “That is the wrong question. The real question is, who are you without Lane Corp.?"“Lane Corp is my inheritance,” Dimitri roared. “My blood.”“Lane Corp was a walking corpse before I injected life into it,” Matthew replied calmly, his gaze locking onto Dimitri’s.“You offer fifty million? That pocket change would not even cover my system’s operational costs for one hour.”“You… you are insane,” Dimitri hissed. “I will destroy you. I have connections you cannot comprehend. The board of directors…”“The board only cares about profit,” Matthew cut in as he pulled a slim tablet from his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the desk, right atop the shredded check. “Look.”Dimitri hesitated, then picked up the tablet. The scre

Two days later.New York’s financial world was in an uproar over the sudden collapse of James Sterling and his investment firm. No one knew how it had happened. The viral market news dismissed it as nothing more than an unlucky flash crash.That morning, Matthew was slowly sipping his black coffee when his private phone vibrated. The number was unfamiliar, but he knew exactly who was calling.“Yes?” Matthew answered flatly.“You… you’re a demon, Matthew,” James’s voice rasped on the other end. It shook with restrained sobs and desperate rage. “You trapped me with that garbage data. You destroyed my life, my family, everything.”“You’re the one who chose to press the execution button, James,” Matthew replied coldly. “Your greed was the architect of your own destruction.”“I won’t let you win. I have connections in the Consortium. They will hunt you down. I’ll make sure you rot in prison or end up in a gutter,” James shrieked.Matthew looked down at his coffee cup, completely unmoved by

“You will return to your office and call James Sterling,” Matthew instructed. “Tell him the sabotage was successful. Tell him you weakened the concrete structure across all of Sector 4 and that next week’s inspection will fail catastrophically.”“But… the inspection won’t fail, right?” Arthur asked, confused.“Of course not. You will replace the bad concrete with top-grade material tonight,” Matthew said firmly. “But James must believe this project is a ticking time bomb.”Viviane understood now. Her eyes shone as she grasped her husband’s strategy. “You want James to think we’re weak.”“I want him to think we’re already dead,” Matthew replied, then looked back at Arthur. “So, Arthur? Prison or double agent?”Arthur nodded quickly, desperately. “Double agent. I’ll do anything for you, sir. I swear on my children’s lives,” he said plainly.Matthew released his grip, returned to the tablet on the table, and pressed accept.[Transfer Complete: $2,500,000 credited to Arthur Pendelton]“Th

The next day,The blazing midday sun scorched the construction site of the Monolith Project along the harbor coast. The crash of waves competed with the thunder of pile drivers and the shouted orders of foremen directing massive cranes.Concrete dust and the smell of diesel filled the air, the scent of progress for Lane Corp. Yet it was also the scent of opportunity for predators. Inside a command container that had been converted into a cold, air-conditioned field office, Matthew Thomas stood facing a holographic table.His eyes, now carrying a permanent faint blue glint since the activation of Level 3, scanned thousands of lines of logistical code cascading like a digital waterfall.Viviane sat on the corner sofa, reviewing legal documents. From time to time, she glanced toward her husband. Something had changed in Matthew since the night at the Obsidian Vault.He seemed more efficient, sharper. Yet also more distant. His human warmth felt sealed beneath a thin layer of ice.“All re

The clock on the penthouse wall showed three fifteen in the morning. The silence inside the luxury apartment felt heavy, broken only by Viviane’s soft breathing as she slept deeply on the living room sofa.She had been too exhausted to even walk to the bedroom after the night of relentless social tension at The Gilded Gala. Matthew Thomas sat in a leather armchair facing the massive glass window that framed the New York skyline.His expensive suit jacket lay discarded on the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his chest rising and falling slowly. In his hand, a glass of aged scotch trembled slightly, following the faint shake in his fingers.“A long night,” Matthew murmured to his own reflection in the glass.He was not speaking to anyone. Yet something was listening. Something that lived inside his cerebral cortex, fused with the neurons and synapses of his brain.Suddenly, a sharp pain far more intense than anything before slammed into the base of his skull. The glass slipped