Vanessa stood clutching the cold velvet rope, her trembling legs barely able to support her weight. The brilliant flashbulbs of hundreds of cameras continued to bathe Evan, Olivia, and Seraphina in pure white light. The entire room of elite guests murmured in pure admiration as the three walked toward the center floor. "Look at them putting on airs," Julian muttered bitterly beside Vanessa, trying to hide his trembling hands behind his back. "They rented some fancy clothes and think they're national oligarchs who own the entire world! They are just putting on a fake show to impress the city ministers and fool the news reporters!" "Evan is nothing more than a broke dishwasher who got lucky with a few borrowed dollars," Julian hissed through his teeth. "He thinks walking on a red carpet makes him a high-society prince, but he is still just a country servant! Once Mr. Sterling turns on the Hyper-Lithium reactor, everyone will realize Evan is just an empty fraud!" Vanessa swallowed hard

Minister Vance blinked in sudden surprise, his golden fountain pen hovering in the air right above the contract. He turned his head quickly to look at the calm young man standing tall beside Olivia Rivers. His sharp, experienced eyes scanned Evan's composed face, sensing the absolute gravity behind the young chairman's warning. "Chairman Rivers, are you certain of what you are saying?" Minister Vance asked in a low, questioning voice. "The digital diagnostic boards on the main stage are showing optimal green output across every sensor channel." The elder statesman looked back and forth between Evan's steady violet eyes and the glowing machine. Before Evan could speak another word, a sharp, mocking scoff cut through the quiet air of the evaluation table. Vice-Minister Gregory Sterling stood up abruptly from the adjacent VIP booth, waving his hand with utter disgust. His wrinkled face was flushed dark red with angry, arrogant pride as he glared down at Evan. "Minister Vance, do not li

The blinding violet light gradually faded from Evan's palm as the wild crimson fire vanished into his chest. The shrieking warning alarms across the stage abruptly died down into complete, peaceful silence. The deafening hum of the runaway reactor slowed to a gentle, smooth purr as the glowing white-hot metal cooled back into a polished, cool silver in less than fifteen seconds. Evan calmly withdrew his right hand from the smooth metal casing, looking down at the smoking control panel. He reached across the console, picked up a technician's micro-wrench left behind by the fleeing crew, and stepped toward the lower pipe. With two precise, half-turn adjustments to the lower magnetic valve, the internal pressure locked firmly into place. The central output gauge clicked softly, lighting up with a steady, peaceful glow that filled the stage. The unstable red warning numbers vanished, replaced by a perfect, flawless reading of thirty thousand mega-units of pure, clean, ice-blue energy. A

The heavy double doors of the Grand Hyatt slammed shut, leaving the cold night to swallow the disgraced Wensleys and Sterlings forever. As midnight arrived across the Capital, massive digital news billboards flashed bright golden banners that lit up the dark sky. The entire political and economic landscape of the nation was completely rewritten in a matter of hours. The Prime Minister’s Office issued an emergency executive decree directly to every national news channel and financial terminal. The decree formally expelled Gregory Sterling from the State Cabinet and stripped his entire family of their political titles. Furthermore, federal marshals moved immediately to freeze the entire thirty-billion-dollar asset portfolio belonging to the corrupt Sterling Energy Conglomerate. Inside the Capital Press Hall, hundreds of bright camera flashes illuminated the room as Minister Arthur Vance took the stage. The elder statesman stood tall at the main podium, holding the official gold-sealed

The sweet warmth of that starlight embrace on the terrace lingered in their hearts as morning arrived over the city. Evan had held Seraphina close against the cool night breeze, promising that no enemy would ever touch their peace. But by eight-thirty the following morning, the quiet peace of the Capital Financial District was rocked by a massive corporate shockwave. A roaring motorcade of twenty armored black assault trucks swept aggressively across the central banking plaza, cutting off the morning traffic. Fifty heavily armed private security contractors dressed in reinforced tactical body armor stepped out into the bright sunlight. They held automatic mana-rifles across their chests, instantly forming an iron security perimeter around the grand entrance of the National Central Bank. Walking through the center of the armed guards was Lord Zachary Cross, the ruthless thirty-five-year-old billionaire titan of the international underworld. He was draped in a tailored dark velvet coat