The wind howled like a warning across the Goodman Estate, but the mourners only clutched their black coats tighter and turned their tearless faces toward the casket.Richard Goodman,the titan, the tycoon, the tyrant,was finally dead.A polished mahogany coffin sat beneath the white silk canopy. Gold-trimmed roses lined the velvet, and mourners lined the earth like vultures dressed in Prada.Press cameras flashed beyond the wrought-iron fence, catching every solemn nod and practiced frown. The scene was perfect.Too perfect.A black Bentley pulled up to the estate gates, its arrival unnoticed amidst the carefully choreographed grief. But when the door opened, and a tall figure stepped out in a long black coat, everything stopped, Conversations died mid-sentence.Chins turned slowly, one after another, like dominos falling in a chain of disbelief.And then someone whispered it, like a curse, or a ghost story resurfacing, “Jeffrey. ”His name cracked through the silence like a gunshot.Jeffr

The SUV roared down the midnight highway, the city lights of Ravenport a blur outside the windows. Inside, silence hummed between Jeffrey and Camilla, broken only by the faint beeping of her vitals on Victor’s portable medscanner.“She’ll live,” Victor said, stowing the device. “Bullet grazed her side. Missed anything vital. She’s lucky.”Camilla winced as she leaned against the seat. “Don’t feel lucky.”“You’re breathing,” Jeffrey said without looking at her. “That’s lucky enough.”He held the safe on his lap like it was a bomb which, in a way, it was. A bomb packed with names, crimes, bribes, and betrayals. The kind that didn’t just end lives it ended legacies.Camilla turned her head toward him. “When we open that, there’s no turning back.”“We already passed that point,” he said.Victor nodded. “So where are we going?”Jeffrey’s eyes darkened. “Someplace no one would ever think I’d go.”The gates groaned as Victor forced them open. Wind whistled through the iron bars, carrying the

By dawn, the smoke from the underground vault had reached the streets above. Firetrucks surrounded Goodman Tower, lights flashing red and white like a battlefield wound pulsing through the concrete.Local authorities swarmed the area, trying to contain the damage unaware they were standing on top of a war.Jeffrey watched it all from across the street, cloaked in a black hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low over his face, Camilla leaned on the bench beside him, pale, stitched, and still trembling from the adrenaline of the night before.Victor hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes, he sat across from them, one eye swollen from the beating he took. Bandages covered one side of his jaw. His pistol was tucked under the long coat he wore like a second skin.The city had no idea it was on the edge of collapse. Yet, Jeffrey broke the silence first. “Henry didn’t know it was a decoy. That bought us maybe twelve hours.”Victor gave a dry, blood-flecked cough. “Should’ve let me shoot him when I had

00:06… 00:05… 00:04…Camilla’s fingers flew across the ruined control panel, overriding every layer of encryption she could find. Sweat poured down her face, heart hammering. Each second that ticked down was a promise of death.“Come on, come on…” she hissed.00:03… The doors wouldn’t respond, The override was locked. She needed another way.00:02…Then she spotted it: a hardline access cable snaking beneath the console, leading toward the adjacent maintenance room. Manual bypass. Ancient tech, She grabbed her gun, kicked open the side panel, and dove inside.00:01…Too late, The timer hit zero, But instead of an explosion, A thick pulse of electromagnetic force shook the building, The lights died, The cameras shattered, And Jeffrey’s body twitched violently inside the sealed chamber, caught in a silent, invisible wave.Camilla stared at the blackened monitors. “What the hell was that?”Jeffrey convulsed once, twice, then everything stopped, No movement, No sound,Just his body, spraw

1:42 A.M. Location: The Vault, Off-Grid Safe HouseThe screen flickered before Jeffrey. Dozens of files filled the air in glowing red light names, faces, locations, all tied to the people who orchestrated his downfall. “Camilla,” he said, voice ice-cold. “Initiate purge protocol.”Camilla hesitated. “You’re sure?”Jeffrey’s eyes never left the file on-screen:Name: Asher Goodman.Status: CEO.Crimes: Fratricide, conspiracy, asset laundering, sanctioned assassination.He nodded once. “Burn everything tied to his empire. I want the world to feel his collapse.”She stepped forward, fingers flying over the console. “Purging… now.”Across the globe, a dozen Goodman accounts blinked out of existence. Satellites went dark. Buildings locked down. Executives lost access to bank vaults as firewalls collapsed and systems imploded.The Goodman Empire had just taken a bullet to the spine, Asher Goodman’s voice echoed through the boardroom like a whip crack. “Who the hell authorized a blackout on o