The disruptions had been getting worse every day.On Monday, a complete set of vendor contracts vanished from the legal department's secure server. The backup files were corrupted at the exact same time, which meant someone had accessed both the primary and secondary systems simultaneously.On Tuesday, the quarterly financial projections presented to Marcus contained numbers that didn't match the raw data. The discrepancies were subtle, buried in the third decimal point of revenue calculations, but they were enough to make any investor who reviewed them question the company's stability.On Wednesday, the logistics department accused the procurement team of ordering the wrong materials for a major project. Procurement blamed the design team for changing specifications without notice. The design team pointed back at logistics. Three departments, each one screaming at the other, each one holding documents that contradicted the others.By Thursday, the building felt like a pressure cooker

"Deborah." Marcus swiped the tablet without looking at it. "Your workstation was used to modify the quarterly projections at seven fourteen AM, three hours before any other finance employee logged in. The modification required your personal authentication code, which cannot be duplicated."Deborah's folder slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a flat slap."Russell." Marcus turned to the IT specialist. "The script that corrupted the client database was written using a coding syntax unique to the proprietary system you personally designed for this company four years ago. Three of your colleagues in IT have already confirmed that only you possess the expertise to write in that particular language."Russell's crossed arms slowly unfolded. His defiance melted like ice under direct heat."You called this a witch hunt." Marcus addressed all three of them, his voice carrying to every corner of the hall. "Witches are imaginary. The evidence against you is not. Every access log, ever

"No." Alexander's response was immediate. "Leave them. A network you can see is more useful than one that goes underground. Let Victoria think she still has eyes inside the building. What she doesn't know is that those eyes are now reporting to us."Marcus's lip curved slightly. "You want to feed them false information.""I want to let them believe they're winning." Alexander's voice was quiet. "Overconfident enemies make predictable moves. And predictable enemies are easy to destroy.""Understood, sir." Marcus paused. "There's one more thing.""Go ahead.""Victoria and Jason aren't the only ones making moves." Marcus reached for the final report on his desk. It had arrived twenty minutes before the call, marked urgent by his intelligence team. "Something is happening at Blackstone Correctional."Alexander went silent. The quality of the silence changed. Sharper. More focused."Charles Westbrook." Marcus opened the report. "Over the past ten days, he's received four visits from indivi

"Another city. Somewhere Alexander has no reach. Somewhere his surveillance can't follow." Jason paused. "We use the diamonds to establish a new foundation. New identities if necessary. New businesses. We rebuild from scratch where nobody knows the Thompson name."Victoria was quiet for a long moment. Her fingers tapped against the armrest of her chair in a slow, deliberate rhythm."And Alexander?" Victoria's voice carried an edge that could have cut glass. "We just let him win?""We let him think he's won." Jason's lip curved slightly. "There's a difference. A man who believes the fight is over stops looking over his shoulder. That's when he becomes vulnerable."Victoria's eyes narrowed with approval. She had spent years underestimating her stepson. The boy who had once puffed out his chest at parties and bragged about his father's wealth had been replaced by something colder, sharper, forged in pain and hardened by humiliation."When do we move?" Victoria uncrossed her legs and lean

Alexander's thumb traced the edge of the paper. Something shifted behind his eyes that he would never have allowed anyone except this child to see.Emma laid out five more drawings. Each one featured the same three people. In one, they were at a park. In another, they were eating at a table. In a third, the tall man was carrying the small girl on his shoulders while the woman watched from beside the tree.Every single picture included Alexander.Sophia stood in the kitchen doorway, watching. Her arms were crossed. Her expression was controlled. But her eyes betrayed her, moving between the drawings and Alexander's face with something that wasn't anger and wasn't acceptance but lived somewhere in the difficult space between."These are incredible, Emma." Alexander set the last drawing down with the reverence of someone handling something priceless. "You're very talented.""Mama says I get it from Grandpa." Emma beamed. "He used to draw buildings for his company."Emma suddenly bounced