Author POVThe first thing Andrea lost was certainty.It happened quietly, the way all real losses do—not in a courtroom or a headline, but in the space between decisions. The moment he realized that every move he made now would save something and sacrifice something else.There were no clean victories left.Only choices weighted with consequence.The summons arrived before breakfast.Not a request. Not a negotiation.A formal directive for Andrea Konstanio to appear before an international financial ethics tribunal—public, recorded, irreversible.Chloe read it twice before handing it to him.“If you go,” she said carefully, “you don’t come back the same.”Andrea scanned the document. “I don’t intend to.”“This isn’t about intent,” Anastasia added from the doorway. “It’s about precedent. Once you speak, others will be forced to.”Gracie stood very still near the window.She didn’t look at the paper.She looked at Andrea.“They’re not asking you to confess,” she said softly. “They’re a

Power never collapses all at once.It erodes quietly, through meetings that no longer happen, through doors that remain politely closed, through invitations that stop arriving.Andrea noticed it first in the calendar.Entire weeks—emptied.No emergency calls. No back-channel warnings. No carefully staged confrontations meant to remind him who still held leverage.They weren’t fighting him.They were waiting him out.And waiting was something Andrea had learned to fear more than war.The announcement came without namesNo accusations. No denials.Just a procedural notice released across six jurisdictions at once:> An independent review council has been formed to assess historical private-sector influence on sovereign decisions.Andrea read it once.Then again.“They didn’t target us,” Chloe said slowly. “They created a mirror.”Andrea nodded. “And they’re hoping we flinch first.”Because mirrors forced people to look at themselves.And most didn’t like what they saw.Gracie didn’t rea

Author POVThe affidavit arrived at 6:14 a.m.Not leaked.Not announced.Delivered.It landed simultaneously on three desks: the Oversight Coalition, the International Trade Tribunal, and the private legal archive Elena had built under Marcel’s final instructions.No press copy.No commentary.Just forty-seven pages of sworn testimony from Nikolai Vargas.Andrea was in the kitchen when Chloe called.“Have you seen it?” she asked without greeting.“I’m looking at it now,” Andrea replied, scrolling slowly.Nikolai hadn’t denied anything.That was the first shock.He hadn’t reframed history or blamed intermediaries. He hadn’t hidden behind ignorance.He had done something far more dangerous.He had contextualized himself.He admitted to:Acting as a legal intermediary for displaced labor forcesFacilitating offshore transfers tied to infrastructure expansionSigning documents that enabled deniable harmBut every admission was paired with something else.A pattern.Names.Dozens of them.

Author POVThe hearing room wasn’t grand.That was intentional.No marble columns. No sweeping flags. Just pale wood, recessed lighting, and rows of seats arranged to discourage spectacle.It didn’t work.By the time Gracie arrived, the room was already full.Journalists sat stiff-backed, pens poised. Legal observers lined the back wall. Two members of the board occupied the front row, their expressions carved into neutrality.Andrea sat behind her.Not beside.Behind—where presence mattered more than protection.The chairwoman adjusted her glasses.“This committee convenes to determine whether coordinated disclosure of historical corporate material constitutes destabilization or civic responsibility.”A pause.“Mrs. Konstanio, you may speak.”Gracie stood.She didn’t carry notes.That unsettled them more than anger ever could.“I won’t be presenting allegations today,” she began calmly. “I won’t be naming criminals.”A ripple of confusion passed through the room.“I’m here to describ

Nikolai didn’t waste time. He moved in silence, his network of operatives springing into action like shadows converging on a single point. By mid-morning, a carefully orchestrated leak had made its way to a journalist he trusted—a dossier designed to tarnish Elena’s credibility and cast doubt on Gracie’s involvement in the council’s work.But he had miscalculated.Andrea had anticipated this exact type of move. Every journalist and contact Nikolai relied on had already been flagged, carefully monitored, and subtly redirected. By the time the dossier reached the intended recipient, it had been intercepted, verified, and annotated. Every inconsistency, every deliberate misstatement, every half-truth was cataloged and timestamped.Gracie reviewed the intercepted documents with a quiet intensity, highlighting each false claim. “He’s aggressive,” she murmured, “but he’s sloppy when he thinks no one is watching.”Andrea stood behind her, arms crossed. “And we are watching. Every step. Every