Chapter 180Black Veil didn’t announce itself.It moved quietly—like a shadow slipping under locked doors.Across three continents, dormant accounts came alive. Old favors were called in. Files long buried surfaced. Names that hadn’t been spoken in years appeared on Alexander’s private dashboard, blinking red.Matias stood behind him, watching the data populate in real time.“Black Veil is fully active,” he said carefully. “Phase One complete.”Alexander didn’t turn. “And Phase Two?”“Already moving,” Luca replied from the far desk. “We’ve identified five operational cells tied to the woman. Private military contractors, off-book. They’re not loyal to anyone—except money.”Alexander’s fingers tightened on the edge of the desk.“So they can be bought,” he said.“Yes,” Luca answered. “But not cheaply.”Alexander finally turned.“Then we don’t buy them,” he said calmly. “We dismantle them.”The penthouse felt different now—too quiet, too controlled. Even the air seemed monitored.She sat

Chapter 183The first mistake the woman made was assuming Alexander would react emotionally.The second was believing she still understood him.Alexander didn’t move immediately after discovering the authorization file. He didn’t confront anyone. He didn’t rage. He didn’t tighten security or pull Selena closer out of fear.Instead, he did what he did best.He disappeared.Not physically—his face still appeared in meetings, his signature still moved contracts, his voice still answered calls. But the real Alexander Morrelo slipped into the shadows, operating beneath layers even his closest men weren’t aware of.Only Matias knew.And Selena.“Why now?” Selena asked quietly as they sat in the private war room beneath the Morrelo estate. “Why let yourself remember now?”Alexander stared at the holographic display rotating between hospital blueprints, old medical logs, and redacted personnel files.“Because memory isn’t the weapon,” he said. “Control is.”She frowned. “Explain.”“They wiped

Chapter 185The cost arrived quietly.Alexander discovered it at 6:14 a.m., while the city was still pretending to sleep.Three Morrelo-controlled humanitarian corridors—routes used to move medical supplies through conflict zones—had been suspended overnight. No explanation. No appeal window.Just a cold international directive stamped with unanimous consent.Leonardo read the notice twice, then once more aloud. “They’re citing ethical review failures.”Alexander’s fingers curled slowly against the desk.“That review board answers to no one,” Matias said. “It’s a ghost committee.”“No,” Alexander replied. “It’s a message.”Selena stood near the window, arms crossed, face unreadable.“They’re punishing the people you protect,” she said.Alexander didn’t deny it.“They want me to choose efficiency over exposure,” he said. “Silence over scrutiny.”Selena turned to him. “Then don’t.”That was the moment Alexander understood something dangerous.She wasn’t asking for permission.She was as

Chapter 187At exactly 4:12 a.m., he stood in his study, staring at a locked drawer he hadn’t opened in over fifteen years. The wood was worn smooth where his thumb rested—proof that some habits never left, only waited.He opened it.Inside lay a single key and an old insignia—unmarked, unofficial, never registered. The kind of symbol that didn’t belong to governments but to operations governments pretended never happened.Leonardo closed his eyes.“So they found it,” he murmured.He didn’t call Alexander.Not yet.Because once spoken, some truths could never be taken back.Selena’s day took an unexpected turn.The council meeting was cut short when a junior analyst—barely thirty, too nervous to lie convincingly—handed her a sealed envelope.“No return address,” the analyst said. “It was marked personal.”Selena waited until she was alone before opening it.Inside was not a threat.Not a warning.It was a photograph.An old one.Leonardo—much younger—standing beside a woman Selena had

Chapter 189Alexander reached Paxton’s building in under twelve minutes.Too fast.The kind of speed that came from instinct, not planning.The lobby was quiet—too quiet. No security desk clerk. No ambient music. Just the low hum of electricity and the soft echo of Alexander’s footsteps as he crossed the marble floor.Matias’s voice came through his earpiece. “No forced entry detected. Cameras looped for forty-six seconds.”Alexander stopped walking.“Forty-six?” he asked.“That’s not a glitch,” Luca added. “That’s a signature.”Alexander’s jaw tightened. “They wanted him conscious.”He stepped into the elevator and hit the top floor.Paxton’s apartment door was open.Not broken.Open.Alexander entered slowly, every sense sharpened.The apartment looked… normal.No overturned furniture. No blood. No signs of struggle.But something was wrong.The air felt wrong.Paxton sat on the couch, hands resting on his knees, posture straight. His eyes followed Alexander, but his expression didn