The glass tower of Skydome Pharmaceuticals glimmered under the late afternoon sun, but inside, the atmosphere was anything but bright. The boardroom—usually alive with chatter, confidence, and coffee fumes—now echoed with unease. A leaked contract had hit the internet that morning, and within hours, rumors spread like wildfire:Carl Donovan, head of a rival biotech firm, was allegedly preparing a takeover.Worse—someone had leaked internal formulas for Skydome’s latest medical line, Project Helix.The board members sat stiffly, exchanging glances over untouched files. The tension was thick enough to slice.“Who the hell leaked this?” barked Mr. Collins, the company’s head of operations. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the air-conditioning. “The media’s already questioning our integrity! If this continues, our shares will tank by midnight!”Linda, usually calm and composed, stood near the glass window, phone in hand. “Quiet down,” she snapped, though her voice trembled slightly. “I’v

The elevator hummed down through concrete and steel until the usual hum of corporate life was swallowed by thick insulation and silence. Only a handful of senior executives knew the coordinates of this level — a subterranean wing beneath Skydome’s public face, a place whispered about in secure briefings and then quickly forgotten. Linda’s fingers hovered for a moment over the keypad, the access code a tattoo in her memory now. She turned, meeting Charlie’s eyes. He gave a single, small nod.The heavy door unlatched and opened onto a corridor lit in muted blues. The smell here carried faint traces of antiseptic and long-stored reagents — the perfume of things kept for a future that had not yet arrived. Security sensors scanned them and green lights blinked reassurance. The hall widened, and at its end a vault stood like a sleeping god: six meters of reinforced composite, biometric locks, and a warning plaque that suggested more than legal penalties.Charlie stepped forward as if approa

Charlie replayed Carl’s words in the quiet before dawn as if they were a puzzle: “You can’t protect everyone.” The phrase had hung between them like a blade—thin, sharp, and precise. But now, in the small hours when the city was a soft murmur of distant engines and sleeping lights, it felt less like a threat and more like a signal. A warning dressed as arrogance. A map disguised as an insult.He stood at the office window watching the black river of the Lagos waterfront. The city breathed slowly beneath him, ignorant of the gears turning above it. For a man who had been burned by lies and betrayal, Charles Wade—or Charlie, as the world insisted on calling him now—had learned the economy of movement: fewer gestures, greater effect. He let the phrase settle. It told him something about the scale of his enemies’ intent. Not just to wound, but to force choice.At 05:12 the Skydome alert system lit up Linda’s secure line. The terse message read: “Emergency—branch facility, Sector 9. Possib

The meeting room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights.Haejin stood by the glass wall, her reflection merging with the sprawling night skyline beyond Skydome Tower. Her gaze was sharp, but her voice was heavy with memory.“You still wear the same calm, Commander,” she said softly. “Even after all these years.”Charlie didn’t respond immediately. He stood near the projector table, reviewing encrypted reports Linda had sent earlier. His fingers tapped rhythmically—once, twice—then stopped. The same habit he had during wartime briefings.“You said they’re rebuilding the division,” he finally said. “Where?”“In the East. Same pattern. Different names, new investors,” Haejin replied. “They’re using Carl’s pharmaceutical channels to move materials. And they’ve acquired ex-military scientists. The kind who don’t ask questions.”Charlie’s eyes narrowed. He opened a file labeled Project Dawn. Within were old schematics—molecular graphs, experimental blueprints, and genet

The city had gone quiet. Too quiet.For months, its skyline had echoed with chaos—protests, corporate takeovers, collapsing empires. But now, beneath Skydome’s shadow, silence returned like the calm after a battlefield storm.Only this time, the fallen weren’t soldiers—they were men in suits.Carl’s empire bled from every side. Investors vanished overnight, transferring funds into offshore shells. Government officials once in his pocket now denied ever knowing his name. Every bribe, every fake contract, every forged patent—all laid bare in Skydome’s public exposé.Carl hid in his mansion high above the city, a fortress of marble and regret. Curtains drawn. Phones disconnected. He’d stopped sleeping. He’d stopped pretending.Every time he looked in the mirror, he saw Charlie’s eyes staring back at him—not with hate, but with judgment.At dawn, his last ally fled.By dusk, his private guards walked out, unpaid and afraid.By nightfall, Carl sat alone at his grand dining table—empty wine