The first email came on a quiet Monday morning. Jordan was reviewing financial reports when Jenna walked in with her tablet. “You should see this,” she said.It was from Zoe. The subject line read: “A Proposal for Healing and Collaboration.” The message was polished, diplomatic, almost tender. “A chance to show the world that we’ve both moved past old wounds,” she wrote. “Let’s rebuild something positive from the ashes.”Jordan stared at the screen for a while, expression unreadable. “She wants to collaborate?” he said finally.Jenna folded her arms. “It’s a trap. She’s testing the waters, trying to see if you’ll still open the door.”He nodded slowly, but said nothing.For two days, the email sat unanswered. Yet, somehow, it lingered in his thoughts. He didn’t know why; maybe curiosity, maybe unfinished business, maybe the stubborn part of him that always sought closure.On the third day, Zoe sent another message. “I understand your silence, but I’d still like a chance to speak in pe

Zoe returned without noise. No press statement, no lawyer-led theatrics, no social media confession.She walked into the authorities' office early on a Monday morning and turned herself in before the warrant could grow teeth.By afternoon, the news had reached Jefferson Group, spreading through the executive floors in hushed conversations and carefully worded emails.Jordan heard it from Jenna. She appeared at his office door just past three o'clock, her expression carefully neutral, and stepped inside without waiting for permission.She closed the door behind her, then stood by his desk, arms folded, studying his face with the attention of someone watching for any crack in his composure."She surrendered," Jenna said, her voice measured. "Voluntarily."Jordan looked up from the financial projections he'd been reviewing. For a heartbeat, his pen hovered over the page. Then he set it down carefully and nodded once, as if he had expected it all along.As if this particular piece of news

The attack didn’t come with noise or warnings. It arrived quietly, wrapped in legality and timing, the way real corporate wars always did.By the time Jordan’s phone started vibrating nonstop that morning, the damage was already unfolding.Jenna was the first to say it out loud. “They’re making a move.”Jordan stood in his office, jacket still off, staring at the screen on the wall where market activity scrolled endlessly.A rival conglomerate — older, broader, deeply entrenched, had launched an aggressive acquisition attempt against Jefferson Group.It wasn’t a hostile takeover yet, but it was close enough to send shockwaves through the market. Strategic share purchases. Public statements disguised as compliments.Analysts suddenly questioning Jefferson Group’s independence.“They waited for the right moment,” Jordan said quietly. “Post-Bennett collapse. Internal restructuring. Leadership transition still fresh.”“They’re exploiting uncertainty,” Jenna replied. “And they’re good at i

The decision to launch an internal investigation did not come lightly. Jordan signed the approval memo with a steady hand, but the weight of it pressed hard on his chest. This was not an enemy outside the gates.This was inside the house. People who had built the company with him. People whose names he knew, whose families he had met, whose loyalty he had never once questioned.By the next morning, the atmosphere at Jefferson Group had shifted. Nothing obvious. No panic. No raised voices.But there was a tightness in the air, a carefulness in how conversations began and ended. Smiles lingered half a second too long. Laughter sounded rehearsed. Everyone knew something serious was happening, even if no one said it aloud.Jenna took charge immediately.She structured the inquiry with calm efficiency, assembling a small, discreet team bound by strict confidentiality. There were no dramatic interrogations, no threats. Just questions. Timelines. Cross-checks. Access logs. Decision trails.S