The video started playing before Frank Forbes could lock his phone. “to our future,” a man’s voice said, young and bright, ringing with champagne confidence.Glasses clinked. Laughter followed. Frank froze in the doorway of the dining room, one hand still gripping the edge of the table he’d set an hour ago.Candles had burned down unevenly, wax pooling like pale scars. The steak he’d cooked was cold now, untouched, a thin layer of oil congealing on the surface.On the phone screen, his wife leaned in close to another man. Evelyn Forbes smiled. Not the polite, public smile she used on investors. Not the tired smile she gave Frank lately. This one was soft. Intimate. Earned.Someone off-camera shouted, “Say it again, CEO Evelyn!”Evelyn lifted her glass, eyes shining. “To freedom,” she said.The man beside her, Ryan, Frank realized distantly, laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist. “And to finally not hiding.”The room around Frank seemed to tilt. “Daddy?”Frank didn’t answer. His

The house had never felt this quiet. Frank sat alone at the kitchen table, elbows resting on the same scarred wood where Evelyn had once laughed, scribbling numbers on napkins, dreaming out loud.The overhead light hummed faintly. Outside, the city breathed, cars passing, distant sirens, life continuing as if nothing had cracked open tonight.The System’s golden interface hovered in front of him. Audit in progress…Lines of light branched outward like veins, each one pulsing with information Frank didn’t consciously remember, but somehow knew.Emails he’d drafted but never sent. Pitch decks he’d edited at 2 a.m. Call logs of introductions he’d made “as a favor.”His jaw tightened. “So this is what you mean by origin assets,” Frank said quietly.Correct.A new window opened.Forbes Tech — Pre-Incorporation PhaseContributor Weight Analysis:Evelyn Forbes — 41%Frank Forbes — 52%External Advisors — 7%Frank laughed under his breath. “She took the CEO title with less than half.”Titles

Frank didn’t rush home. He walked. The city felt different when he moved through it without shrinking himself.People brushed past him, unaware that markets were convulsing because of a name they were only just rediscovering.Screens in storefronts replayed Evelyn’s forced press statement. Commentators speculated. Analysts argued. Frank listened to none of it.The System stayed quiet, which unsettled him more than the warnings. When he reached the house, dusk had settled. Lights were on inside. Good. She hadn’t taken Lena again.Frank unlocked the door and stepped in. Evelyn was standing in the living room, phone pressed to her ear, pacing.She stopped when she saw him and ended the call without a word. “Close the door,” she said.Frank did. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Not as husband and wife. Not as enemies. As adversaries who knew each other too well. “You blindsided me,” Evelyn said finally.Frank shrugged out of his coat. “You toasted to not hiding.”“That wasn’t

“They’re running the story.”Frank was halfway down the stairs when Evelyn’s voice cut through the house, sharp and urgent. She stood in the living room with her phone pressed to her ear, pacing like a trapped animal.“No, don’t deny it,” she snapped. “Redirect it. Frame it as emotional instability”Frank stopped. The System pulsed once, slow and deliberate. Conflict detected: Narrative seizure in progress.Frank descended the last step. “Who’s ‘they’?”Evelyn spun toward him. “Ryan.”Frank nodded. “Of course.”She stabbed a finger at the television. “Turn that off.”Frank didn’t. The anchor’s voice filled the room. “…sources close to Ryan Cole allege that Frank Forbes exhibited violent and controlling behavior long before last night’s incident”Evelyn swallowed. “This is bad.”Frank tilted his head. “This is predictable.”The anchor continued. “…with claims suggesting Forbes’s public outburst was the culmination of long-standing emotional volatility”Frank exhaled slowly. The System

“Down!”The word barely left Frank’s mouth before the gunshot echoed through the garage. Claire screamed as concrete exploded inches from where her head had been.Frank slammed into her, dragging her behind the pillar as another shot rang out, sharp, controlled, professional. “That wasn’t a warning,” Claire cried.Frank pressed her head down. “No. That was a message.”The System flared violently across his vision. Lethal intent confirmed, Shooter skill level: High, Escape probability: 31%.Frank exhaled once. Slow. Focused. “Can you run?” he asked.Claire shook her head. “My legs”“Then you crawl,” Frank said. “When I say now, you move.”Another bullet ricocheted, sparks screaming off steel, A calm voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows. “Frank Forbes,” the man called. “You really should’ve stayed dead.”Claire’s breath hitched. “He knows you.”Frank’s jaw tightened. “I know of him.”The System chimed. Identity match: Victor Kane, Private contractor. Clean record. No witnesses.Fr