Dawn never truly touched Crest City that morning. The sky was gray, heavy, pressed low over the towers as if the heavens themselves were watching, waiting. Storms gathered in the distance, silent but threatening, and Crest Tower stood in the center of it all like a blade pointed at the sky.Inside, Kai Vale stood alone on the executive floor, staring at a wall of flickering holograms. Not news. Not markets. Not internal reports, but government demands.And there were hundreds of them. Every nation. Every alliance. Every military network.Every council that had ever feared Crest’s power. Every leader who had ever prayed the Whisper Protocol would never return.Kai read the messages one by one. By the fifteenth message, his hands were already shaking. By the thirtieth, he felt cold sweat sliding down his spine. By the fiftieth, he understood something terrible. They did not see him as the CEO of Crest. They saw him as the host of something they feared more than war.Eren burst into t

The blackout lasted only seven seconds. Seven seconds of complete darkness. Seven seconds where the world seemed to stop breathing. Seven seconds where Kai, Rhea, and Eren stood frozen in a room swallowed by silence, then, light returned in a violent surge, flooding the analytics wing with a pale, cold glow.The screens rebooted. The consoles hummed back to life, but the name the Whisper Grid had shown…That single terrible name…It did not come back.It vanished from the logs. It vanished from memory banks. It vanished as if it had never been written at all.Rhea stared at the blank screen, trembling. “Kai,” she whispered, “it erased itself.”Eren swallowed hard. “The Grid didn’t want us to see it twice.”Kai stood still in the center of the room, eyes unfocused, like he was listening to something far away, something only he could hear. His expression was cold, unreadable, rigid like a statue. “Kai,” Rhea said, voice shaking, “you need to sit. You’re pale. You’re trembling.”Kai didn

The night came faster than anyone expected. Dark clouds swallowed the sky.The last traces of sunlight vanished behind them, leaving Crest City under a thick, suffocating shadow.Wind pulled at the tower walls like a warning. Lightning flashed without thunder, white, violent, unsettlingly silent.Inside Crest Tower, the boardroom lights burned bright, but the air was cold.The board of Crest Industries sat around the long black table like judges in a trial. Their expressions were sharp. Their voices were low and bitter. Their hands restless, tapping pens or gripping armrests, as if trying to hide their fear.Everyone had heard about the Grid’s messages. Everyone had heard about the blackout.Everyone had heard the rumor: Kai Vale is no longer fully in control.At the center of the room, the main seat, Kai’s seat, was empty. The board members exchanged glances. “He’s late.”“He’s avoiding us.”“He knows what this meeting is about.”“After last night? I don’t blame him.”But no one rea

The morning began with a storm that refused to move. Heavy clouds clung low over Crest Tower, gray and unmoving, as if the sky itself wanted to trap everything inside the building.Wind hit the windows in harsh bursts, like fists pounding to be let in. Inside, the halls were quiet, not peaceful, but tense, like a breath held too long.Rhea Caulder walked quickly toward Kai’s private command floor, her footsteps sharp against the polished ground. She held three datapads against her chest, filled with proofs, counter-proofs, system logs, and desperate explanations she had repeated a thousand times to herself since dawn.She rehearsed the words again: “It’s not me. I was framed. Kai, you know me. You KNOW me.”But fear twisted inside her. Ever since the Whisper Grid showed her name. Ever since the blackout that erased the signature. Ever since the satellites were traced back to her access…Nothing had been the same.Eren hardly looked at her. Security watched her every step. And Kai, Ka

The applause outside the grand hall continued long after the press briefing ended. It rolled across the entire building like waves crashing endlessly against stone, but inside the private corridor behind the stage, the noise felt distant, muffled by thick walls and heavy tension.Kai walked ahead with slow steps, his breath uneven, his heart still echoing with the strange pulse he had felt during the briefing. His mind felt too full, as if something inside him kept whispering beneath every thought.Beside him, Liora moved silently, her heels soft against the polished floor, her expression calm yet unreadable. She kept her eyes forward, but every part of her seemed aware of him, the stiff shoulders, the quiet breathing, the way he kept clenching his right hand as if something inside it trembled.The security doors slid open as they approached the private lounge. They entered.The lights dimmed automatically, leaving the room bathed in a warm, soft glow. A large black window overlooked