The city felt different that night. Even the usual hum of engines and distant sirens seemed muted, swallowed by tension that had nothing to do with the police. The underworld was restless. Whispers spread faster than the wind. Cooper was gone. Not missing. Gone. And with him, the stability he had maintained, the invisible threads holding territories together, frayed like old rope.In a dimly lit loft, the leaders of several minor syndicates gathered around a scarred table. Cigarette smoke curled lazily in the air, smelling faintly of ash and grease. Faces were set, eyes sharp, hands jittering over glasses half-filled with scotch. No one spoke at first.Finally, one of them, a man with a jagged scar down his cheek, broke the silence. “Where the hell is Cooper? No one sees him, no one hears him. His warehouses? Empty. Guards? Missing. The hell is going on?”A younger figure, thin but with eyes too old for his face, leaned forward. “He crossed someone he shouldn’t have. Someone untouchab

The council room inside the Brennan estate was closed to staff.Only elders. Only blood.The doors locked from the inside.Jasper sat at the far end of the long table. Hands folded. Expression flat...The elders did not hide their tension.“We cannot stay silent,” one of them said.Another leaned forward. “The media cycle is accelerating.”“Investors are nervous.”“Political allies are requesting clarification.”“They are asking if the allegations are true.”Silence sat at the table.An older man adjusted his glasses. “Silence can be interpreted as guilt.”Jasper did not move.A woman on his right spoke carefully. “A formal statement would stabilize the situation.”“We draft it.”“We control the tone.”“We condemn the smear campaign.”“We reassure investors.”“We defend your record.”“It ends this.”Jasper looked at her.“It doesn’t end anything,” he said.The room quieted.“It validates it.”A pause.“If I respond,” he continued, “I turn it into a debate.”One of the elders frowned.

A notification from the System appeared in Jasper's periphery late at night.He was alone in his office inside the Brennan estate. The room was dark except for the screen in front of him. A single line of text flashed across the secure interface.Strategic Intelligence Reward Unlocked.He did not react.He read it again.Then a secure data packet opened beneath it. Encrypted files. Corporate projections. Legal drafts. Internal communications. All labeled under one header.Helix Dominion Group.Jasper leaned back slightly.He did not smile. He did not frown.He opened the first file.Financial modeling sheets appeared. Forecast graphs. Asset depreciation curves. Timelines mapped across quarters and fiscal cycles. He scrolled in silence.Then he opened the second file.Internal strategy brief.Restricted circulation.A paragraph was highlighted.Contingency Phase: Snow Asset Absorption.Jasper read every word.Helix had mapped Adrian Snow’s liquidity dependencies. They had documented hi

Jasper did not rush.He sat at the long table in the strategy room while three screens displayed projections in silence. Market graphs. Account flows. Inter-division transfers. Brennan intelligence reports layered over them in clean blocks of text.Across from him, Rowan stood with a tablet in hand.“Snow Innovations is compensating for losses in logistics through offshore capital buffers,” Rowan said.“I know,” Jasper replied.His voice was even. No strain. No satisfaction.“The buffers aren’t stable,” Rowan continued. “They’re stacked. If one layer shifts, the rest follow.”Jasper leaned back slightly.“How many layers?”“Seven primary shells. Four secondary.”“And leverage ratio?”“Too high. He’s covering liquidity gaps with short-term notes.”Jasper nodded once.“Dependent on confidence,” he said.“Yes.”Silence again.On the far screen, Snow Innovations’ flagship division glowed in cold blue. Clean branding. Publicly stable. Internally fragile.Jasper tapped the table once.“Free

Elara moved toward the door, her pace measured, precise. The restaurant staff had already begun their quiet cleanup. The late afternoon sun glinted off the wet pavement outside. She adjusted her coat, ignoring the faint chill in the air, focused entirely on the exit.A voice called her name before she could reach the driveway.“Elara.”She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. Adrian Snow stood there, tense. Suit disheveled in a way that suggested the panic he was trying to mask. His eyes flicked from her face to the surrounding street, as though seeking witnesses or leverage.“Mr. Snow,” she said, tone neutral.“I… we need to talk,” he said quickly, stepping forward. His hands were visible, raised slightly, a mix of pleading and self-preservation. “It’s urgent.”She allowed him to approach, though her expression remained composed, unreadable. She did not smile. She did not frown. She merely observed him, letting him reveal his state without comment.“Your… support,” he began, voice ca