The Grand Starlight Ballroom buzzed with workers stringing up golden lights and polishing marble floors. Sarah Chen stood in the center, her navy suit sharp but her face tired, prison scars peeking through her makeup. Her gala, set for tomorrow night, was her big move to bury Sophia Chamberlain’s shine and pull in investors for Chen Industries. Charles Walker’s dirty money—cocaine and trafficking cash—had kept her factories running, but after Victor Grant and Leo Harper rejected her, Sarah was desperate. She needed a win, and this gala would be it. “Sophia’s finished,” she muttered, checking a clipboard of guest names—rich tycoons, city bigwigs, all her targets. A worker hung a banner: *Chen Industries: The Future is Now!* Sarah’s smile was sharp, like a blade. She’d hired a jazz band, booked a celebrity chef, and sent invites to every power player in town. Her phone buzzed with a text from Charles: *Gala better work. My partners are watching.* Sarah’s jaw tightened.

The Grand Starlight Ballroom glowed like a jewel, its chandeliers casting golden light over silk-draped tables. Sarah Chen stood on a stage, her dress sparkling, her smile forced but bold. The gala was packed with investors, their suits crisp, glasses clinking. Tonight was her moment to bury Sophia Chamberlain’s #SophiaSaves fame and save Chen Industries, rebuilt with Charles Walker’s dirty money from cocaine and child trafficking. Her voice echoed through the mic: “Chen Industries is the future! Join us, and we’ll outshine the liars!” The crowd clapped, but their eyes were wary, whispers of her scandals lingering. Sarah didn’t see, her heart racing with false victory. Unseen, Brent Walker’s camera in the chandelier streamed every word to his safe house near the docks. In a dim room, Brent leaned over a tablet, his black cap low, hoodie unzipped. His face was sharp, like

Sophia Chamberlain’s office at Walker International buzzed with energy, papers scattered across her desk. Her sapphire suit was sharp, her smile steady as she signed documents for the $10 million community center contract. Reporters crowded outside, snapping photos, #SophiaSaves trending with clips of her shaking hands with city officials. The contract was a beacon, proving Walker International’s strength over Chen Industries’ fading name. In a dingy corporate office across town, Sarah Chen sat at a rented desk, her emerald dress swapped for a gray blazer, her prison scars hidden under makeup. Her eyes burned with fury, Sophia’s contract win a fresh slap to her pride. She typed furiously on a laptop, drafting an anonymous email to city officials: *Walker International’s contract is a scam, funds misreported.* It was her first move to sabotage Sophia, a lie to spark doubt.

The city council chamber glowed with polished wood and soft lights, filled with officials and reporters. Sophia Chamberlain stood at a podium, her navy dress sharp, her voice clear like a bell. She presented progress on her $10 million community center contract, slides showing rising steel frames. #SophiaSaves trended with videos of her speech, Walker International’s shine a thorn in Chen Industries’ side. In a cramped office near the docks, Sarah Chen hunched over a laptop, her gray blazer stained with coffee, her prison scars raw under fading makeup. Sophia’s success burned like acid, her failed concrete sabotage a fresh wound. She dialed a crooked council aide, her voice low and sharp. “Leak fake permits for Sophia’s centers,” she hissed. “Say they’re illegal, shut her down.” This was her riskiest sabotage yet—forged documents to freeze Sophia’s project and ruin her name. Sarah’s eyes gleamed, picturing headlines: *Chamberlain’s Contract Scam Exposed!* Unseen,

The place sparkled with silver lights and champagne flutes. Sarah Chen stood on a stage, her red gown shimmering, her smile bright but fake. Investors and city elites clapped, drawn by the Chen family’s comeback. Chen Industries, fueled by Damien Voss’s dirty money, seemed unstoppable. Sarah gripped the mic, her voice loud. “Tonight, we rise again!” she said, her prison scars hidden under makeup. She scanned the crowd, her heart racing. Sophia Chamberlain’s #SophiaSaves fame was her target to crush. Sarah’s sabotage—fake emails, bad concrete, worker lies—had crashed, Brent’s hacks invisible. She didn’t know his bug in her necklace caught every word. In the underground mansion’s tech room, Brent sat in a dim glow, hoodie loose, cap on a table. His laptop showed Sarah’s stage, her voice booming. His grin was sharp, like a hidden spark. Nobody—not Sarah, not Damien—knew he was the