.The night had been mercilessly quiet inside Henry Brown’s office, the kind of silence that gnawed at him more than any storm or argument ever could. His desk lamp burned low, its glow spilling across papers stacked neatly before him. Among them sat a plain, unmarked envelope,innocent at first glance, but heavy enough to change the fate of the Brown Empire.Henry’s hand lingered on the final page of the dossier, his thumb tapping absently as his steel-gray eyes scanned the words again. Every instinct in him screamed caution, yet the evidence was carefully threaded, damning without being conclusive was impossible to dismiss. Kate’s name appeared too many times alongside Reynolds. Their clandestine meetings. Transfers tied to shadow accounts. A whisper of silencing hands that matched too closely the fate of those suspects.Henry pushed back his chair, standing with slow deliberation. He moved toward the tall windows of his office, the city lights stretching endlessly below. His reflecti

The boardroom had been a furnace of whispers and stares when Henry announced Kate’s suspension. By the time the session adjourned, the corridors of Brown Empire were heavy with gossip, and every step Davis and Victory took drew curious eyes.Davis was the first to break the silence once they slipped into the secluded executive lounge, a dimly lit room with chairs, whiskey lined neatly along the cabinet, and soundproofed walls designed for such confidential conversations.“Suspension?” Davis spat, throwing his jacket across the couch. “Henry thinks he’s clever, but this is nothing more than a public execution dressed in silk.”Victory lowered himself into the chair opposite him, calm as though he had been expecting Henry’s move all along. He reached for the whiskey bottle and poured two glasses. “It’s not execution,” he said, pushing one glass across the table to his brother. “It’s strategy. He’s trying to keep the empire from collapsing under suspicion.”“Strategy?” Davis barked a lau

Cyrus Vane prided himself on two things above all which is patience and precision. For decades, those qualities had allowed him to outmaneuver rivals, bleed enemies slowly, and survive where others crumbled. Tonight, though, his patience was rewarded not with guesses, not with rumors, but with something tangible.“You’ll want to see this, sir.”Cyrus flipped it open. Inside were photographs captured from long-range surveillance. One showed Bryan stepping into an underground parking lot. Another showed Daniella, seated at an outdoor Cafe, speaking quietly into her phone.Cyrus’s eyes narrowed. He had suspected Daniella for weeks, but suspicion wasn’t enough. Now he had proof she wasn’t just a shadow hovering near the Browns. She was active, moving, calculating. He knows anyone he sees hovering around Bryan has a connection to him.“Daniella,” he said softly, letting the name linger on his tongue. “The Browns overlooked her. Everyone overlooked her."Marcus cleared his throat. “There’s

The tick of the clock in Davis Brown’s office was the only sound that accompanied him as he reviewed the latest quarterly projections. Brown Empire’s performance, despite the chaos of recent weeks, still held steady enough to make competitors grind their teeth. That, to Davis, was always the mark of superiority,so far the empire thrived no matter what storm battered against it.The first sign something was wrong was the silence outside his office door. His assistant normally spoke in clipped, rapid tones to incoming visitors, and the constant stream of calls and documents ensured the outer room was never quiet. But now, silence hung, thick and unnatural.The door opened without the usual polite knock. A cluster of men and women in dark suits entered with grim precision, their steps synchronized, their faces hard. Davis’s eyes narrowed instantly as he recognized authority when it walked into his presence.“Mr. Davis Brown,” said the man at the front, flashing a federal badge. “We are h

Victory slammed the crystal glass with liquor spilling across his cuff as his chest heaved with barely restrained rage. The report he had just received was still echoing in his ears, every word a fresh insult.“Released?” His voice thundered through the private lounge where only he and Rourke sat. “Released without a single charge sticking? After everything? After all we planted?”Rourke, leaning lazily in the leather armchair, didn’t move. He let Victory burn for a moment, sipping from his own glass with a kind of detached calm. His eyes, however, were studying, calculating the next step. He needed Davis out of the way to achieve his personal aim unknown to Victory.“They didn’t just release him,” Rourke said at last, setting his glass down with deliberate care. “They erased him like it never happened. Every headline, every broadcast, every whisper that should have ruined Davis has vanished.”Victory’s fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. He began pacing the room like a caged