And across the city, in a dark office, Neo watched through hidden cameras and smiled wider than he had in weeks.'Murderers planning their next move with blood money. This is—'This was poetic justice.Neo replayed the conversation five times. Took detailed notes. Saved everything.'They killed me. All of them. The whole family. Planned it together. Executed it together.'The rage that burned in his chest was cold now. Focused. Sharp as the knife that had pierced his ribs.'Alina married me for money. The family needed my insurance payout and my crypto. So they staged a robbery and had me murdered.'Except they'd underestimated him. Underestimated what he'd do to survive. What he'd become.'And now they're turning on each other. Planning escapes. Building contingencies. Because they know—they know that reporter's getting close.'Neo pulled up Lyra's latest article. Read it again.She was closer than the Carvers realized. Closer than even she realized.'But she's asking the wrong quest

"Pressure. The Carvers are panicking. Your articles are making them paranoid. Making them turn on each other. That's useful.""So I'm just—what? A tool?""We're all tools in someone's game." Neo pulled up something on screen. "The difference is whether you know it or not."Lyra moved closer. Tried to see his face in the monitor glow. But the hoodie and shadows hid everything."I want proof," she said. "Real proof. If you have recordings of them admitting to murder—""I do.""Then let me hear them. Let me—""Not yet." The figure closed the program. "When the time's right. When I've taken everything from them. Then you can have your story.""That's not good enough. People need to know now—""People need to care." He turned to face her. "If I give you proof now—if you publish it—the Carvers will lawyer up. Destroy evidence. Disappear. But if you wait. If you let me finish what I started—""They'll be destroyed anyway. Broke. Desperate. Unable to run.""Exactly."Lyra's hands clenched. "T

Weeks bled into months.Neo watched the Carvers unravel in slow motion. Beautiful. Methodical. Like watching a building collapse floor by floor.Mark became a ghost. Suspended from the family business. Cut off from accounts. He'd wander the estate like some hollow shell, staring at walls, checking his empty crypto wallets obsessively.'Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.'Douglas and Cassandra tried damage control. Sold off assets. Took loans they couldn't afford. But Ames Digital kept growing. Kept stealing clients. Kept winning.Every loss the Carvers took, Neo absorbed. Every client they lost, he gained.'This is what you deserve. All of you. For what you did to me.'But Alina—Alina was different.She'd moved out three weeks after the Helix collapse. Got a penthouse downtown. Expensive. Way too expensive for someone who'd just "lost" her savings.'Someone's funding her. But who?'Neo had his suspicions. The mystery caller. The one who'd been pressuring Mark. The one asking if Noam was

'Vincent came through. Perfect timing.'He opened the article. Read every word.[Police suspect insider involvement. TechVault's parent company, Carver Industries, has been struggling financially. Investigators are looking into possible corporate espionage coordinated by someone with intimate knowledge of the company's operations...]Neo pulled up his surveillance feeds. The Carver estate.Police cars in the driveway. Three of them.'They're already there. Already asking questions.'He watched Douglas answer the door. Face pale. Watched the detectives enter. Watched them show documents. Point at papers. Ask questions Douglas clearly couldn't answer.Cassandra appeared. More talking. More documents. More confusion.'They're trying to figure out who had access. Who had motive. Who had the technical knowledge to coordinate a heist like this.'And the digital trail Neo had planted would lead them straight to one person.Mark.Neo zoomed in on the detective's folder. Enhanced the image. Co

Neo pulled out his real tools. The ones hidden in the false bottom of his toolkit.Advanced listening devices. Smaller than a dime. Completely undetectable.He started installing the official cameras first. Did his job. Made it look legitimate.But every third camera—every strategic location—he added something extra. His own devices. His own eyes and ears.The bedroom. The study. The hallway. The garage.'By the time I'm done, I'll see and hear everything. Without Von's security team knowing. Without anyone knowing.'He worked methodically. Professionally. Just another contractor doing a job.But his mind raced. 'This house. These walls. They watched me suffer. Watched me be humiliated. Watched me die—metaphorically—every single day.'Neo finished the bedroom. Moved to the study.Douglas's old office. Now probably Damian's.The desk was the same. The bookshelves. The window overlooking the garden where Neo used to sit and dream of escaping.'I escaped. Just not the way they expected.'