Sera sat on the floor of the hotel suite's bathroom at three in the morning, her back against the cold tiles, unable to stop the violent shaking that had seized her body hours ago. She'd been sitting there since midnight, unable to force herself back into the bedroom where Elias was sleeping, unable to close her eyes without seeing invisible cameras watching her every movement.The physical poisoning had been terrible—the nausea, the tremors, the growing weakness as thallium accumulated in her system. But at least she hadn't known it was happening. She'd suffered in ignorance until the blood tests revealed the truth.This was different. This was knowing that for five weeks, someone had watched her in her most vulnerable moments. Had recorded her sleeping, changing clothes, crying when she thought she was alone. Had captured intimate moments with her husband that should have existed only in their memory. Had turned her bedroom—the one place that should have been absolutely safe—into a

Rachel Patel sat in the secure operations room on the sixth day of the intelligence gathering phase, surrounded by monitors displaying cryptocurrency block chain data, financial transaction records, and mapping software tracking money flows across international borders. She'd been staring at the screens for three hours straight, trying to find patterns that the others had missed."I've got something," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. Paul looked up having a curious expression on his face"Show me," Park said, moving to stand behind Rachel's chair.She pulled up a series of transaction records, highlighting specific patterns with quick movements of her mouse. "Cryptocurrency transactions funding the attacks on Shaw Realty have been moving through multiple exchanges and mixing services—standard money laundering technique designed to obscure the trail. Bitcoin converted to Monero, Monero mixed through privacy services, then converted back to Bitcoin or Ethereum before being cashe

Sera sat in the operations room till 2:00 AM, unable to sleep despite the fact that she was tired, reviewing the reports from the warehouse infiltration. She'd insisted on access to all intelligence briefings, needing to understand the war being waged partly on her behalf. The reports were spread across three monitors—surveillance footage, assessments, and evidence inventories. But it was the pattern of events that held her attention, not the details.Elias found her there, still awake, he rubbed his eyes as he was a bit from strategizing with the FBI about the evidence they had collected. He expected to find her in the hotel suite's bedroom working with Dr. Alistair on full recovery, not analyzing operations like a military strategist."You should be sleeping," he said gently, pulling up a chair beside her."I can't sleep. Too many nightmares about cameras and poisoning." Sera gestured at the monitors.Elias understood that impulse—the need to transform helplessness into action.

Sera sat in the conference room at Shaw Realty's headquarters on the fifth day after Elias's shooting, reviewing financial reports that Marcus Chen had claimed that it was urgent. Her husband was still in the hospital fortress, immobilized and in constant pain, which meant someone had to maintain the operational strategy of the company under siege. That responsibility had fallen to her by necessity and her own insistence.Marcus entered looking more stressed than usual, carrying a tablet and several printed documents that he set on the table with the weight of someone delivering catastrophic news. "We have a serious problem. Multiple serious problems, actually, all hitting simultaneously.""Show me," Sera said, her tired voice sounded but she had a determined look on her face.Marcus pulled up the first document—a cancellation notice from Westfield Insurance Company. "Our general liability insurance policy, which covers Shaw Realty against property damage claims and injury lawsuits,

Sera sat in front of Thomas Blackwell, senior writer for Lloyd's of London's Syndicate 447, in a sterile conference room at their Manhattan offices on the twentieth day since the insurance cancellations had begun. It was her fourteenth meeting with specialty insurance carriers, and the exhaustion showed in the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her shoulders. Behind her sat Marcus Chen and their insurance broker, David Reynolds, who'd warned before the meeting that this was likely their last realistic option for coverage."Mrs. Vance, I'll be direct," Blackwell said in his clipped British accent, reviewing the risk assessment his team had prepared. "Shaw Realty represents exactly the kind of complex, high-risk profile that most standard carriers avoid. Your CEO was shot three weeks ago in an assassination attempt. Your company is connected to ongoing FBI investigations into organized crime. You've experienced arson at your flagship development property. And your previous