“He hosts lavish parties, charity events, art shows,” Sarai confirmed. “He loves to show off his power and influence. He’s very careful about what the public sees.”“Good,” Bucky said, a plan already forming in his mind. “That’s our weakness. We use his need for public approval against him. We make him look bad, really bad, in a way he can’t ignore. Something that makes his own people question him, or makes the authorities *have* to act.”“What kind of bad?” Sarai asked, intrigued despite herself. “He’s already a known gangster. Everyone knows he’s involved in shady dealings.”“Not just shady dealings,” Bucky clarified. “Something that exposes his true cruelty, his disregard for even his own people. Something that makes him look weak, or desperate. Something that threatens his *business* more than a simple raid would.”Sarai thought for a moment. “He has a lot of investments in the entertainment industry. Clubs, talent agencies, even a small film studio. He uses them to launder money,

The palace was a hive of whispers and shadows, but tonight, it would be a symphony of chaos. Max checked the small, crude map again, the lines etched onto parchment feeling more real than the stone walls around them. Trisha stood beside him, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.“Ready?” Max murmured, his voice a low rumble.Trisha nodded, her eyes wide but firm. “As I’ll ever be.”A distant clang echoed through the corridor. That was their signal. The diversion. Max had rigged a series of old, unused bells in the servants’ quarters, set to go off with a timed release. It wouldn’t last long, but it would be enough.“Now,” Max said, pulling a loose stone from the wall. Behind it, a dark, narrow opening appeared. The hidden passage.They squeezed inside, the air thick with dust and the smell of old stone. Max went first, his broad shoulders brushing against the rough walls. Trisha followed, her hand reaching out, finding his.“Keep close,” Max whispered, his voice echoing slightly

The sterile glow of the monitors cast a cool light across Lena’s face. Beside her, Nathan’s fingers danced across a keyboard, a silent symphony of data and code. The air in their hidden operations room was thick with anticipation, the hum of servers the only sound.“Phase one initiated,” Nathan announced, his voice calm, almost detached. “The financial regulators just received the first batch of documents. The paper trail on the offshore accounts is undeniable.”Lena nodded, her gaze fixed on a projected map of the global financial network. Red lines, representing Andres Becker’s illicit dealings, began to flicker and dim. “Good. Now, the Chinese connections. Leak the intel on the port deals. Make sure it hits the right channels – the ones that will cause the most noise, the most immediate panic.”“Already on it,” Nathan confirmed, a faint smile playing on his lips. “The foreign ministry in Beijing is about to have a very bad morning. And the media outlets we prepped are standing by.

The biting wind whipped around Max and Trisha, tearing at their worn clothes. Days had blurred into a grueling march through the treacherous mountains. Every step was an effort, every breath a struggle against the thin, cold air. Max scanned the jagged peaks, his eyes sharp despite the exhaustion. Trisha stumbled beside him, her hand clutching his, a silent anchor.“Just a little further,” Max rasped, his throat dry. “There’s a ridge up ahead. We can rest there.”Trisha nodded, too tired to speak. Her lips were cracked, her face smudged with dirt, but her gaze never wavered from Max. She trusted him, completely.“Water,” she finally managed, her voice a whisper.Max stopped, his eyes sweeping over the rocky terrain. “I know. We need to find some soon. The last stream was a day back.” He pointed to a faint discoloration on a rock face. “See that dark patch? Moss grows where there’s moisture. There might be a seep nearby.”They painstakingly made their way to the spot. Max knelt, scrapi

The sleek, silent vehicle glided to a halt in front of Max’s Mansion, a beacon of light against the city’s night sky. The doors opened, and Max, supporting Trisha, stepped out. The air was warm, a stark contrast to the biting mountain winds, and the scent of exhaust and city life filled his lungs. It was a strange, almost alien sensation after days of pine and cold stone.Ronald was waiting for them, a rare, genuine smile creasing his usually stoic face. He moved quickly, his eyes scanning them both for any sign of lingering injury.“Max. Trisha. Thank goodness,” Ronald said, his voice thick with relief. “Welcome home.”Trisha sagged against Max, a soft sob escaping her lips. “Home,” she whispered, the word a fragile prayer.“We’re a bit… disheveled,” Max said, a wry smirk touching his lips, though his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. “But in one piece, thanks to you.”“My team just ensured your safe return,” Ronald replied, his gaze unwavering. “You’re the one who got yourselves thro