By evening, the press conference footage had already flooded every channel in the city, Francis's calm, measured face replayed endlessly across broadcasts that couldn't seem to stop analyzing every word he'd said. Francis sat in the quiet of his suite, Chelsy curled beside him on the couch, both of them watching the coverage with the particular exhaustion of people who'd survived something considerably larger than either of them had fully prepared for. His phone buzzed against the coffee table, a message arriving from a number he didn't immediately recognize, though something about the formatting looked familiar the moment he opened it. "Mr. Cole. This is Eliza Morrison. I would like to request a private meeting, at your earliest convenience. I believe there may be considerable value in aligning our families rather than continuing along the path we began at White Night Cafe. I hope you'll consider it, discreetly, before anyone else in this city has the opportunity to reach you fir

"You froze my accounts." Andrews's voice cracked through the phone, sharp with panic, all pretense of composure long gone. "Every single one of them, Fields. I need access before end of day.""You don't have access," Fields said, calm and unbothered on the other end of the line. "The board reviewed your attempted transfer yesterday afternoon. Given the timing, given the amount, given the complete absence of any legitimate explanation you were willing to offer, they voted unanimously to freeze your authority pending a full audit.""This is insane. I've managed those accounts for over a year.""You managed them," Fields corrected. "Past tense. As of this morning, Ms. Reyes has formally revoked your authority as Chief Financial Officer, effective immediately. I'd recommend retaining your own counsel. You're going to need it."The line went dead before Andrews could respond, leaving him standing alone in an office that no longer technically belonged to him, staring at a phone that had jus

"This document," Francis said, sliding a printed page across the boardroom table toward eleven pairs of increasingly alarmed eyes, "shows a transfer of four hundred thousand dollars from a Skyward partner account into a shell company registered under a name Andrews Ashford has used exactly twice before."Silence spread across the room, broken only by the soft click of Chris Jones setting down his coffee cup with considerably more care than the gesture required."There are eleven more transactions just like it," Francis continued, unhurried, laying out the rest of the printed pages in a neat row down the center of the table. "Spanning fourteen months. Disguised as consulting fees, vendor payments, marketing consultations that never happened with agencies that don't actually exist. The total comes to just under six million dollars."One of the older board members, a heavyset man named Whitfield who'd said almost nothing throughout the entire meeting, finally leaned forward, jaw tight. "

"It's a burner," Naomi said, sliding a printed report across the desk toward Francis, her mouth set in a thin, frustrated line. "Purchased with cash, three states away, activated once, used exactly twice, then gone dark the moment the second call ended."Francis picked up the report, scanning the details without much hope of finding anything useful. "No way to trace the purchase.""None. The store's security footage from that day was conveniently corrupted, according to the manager I spoke with this morning. Convenient timing, for a store that apparently never has technical problems any other week of the year." Naomi's voice carried the particular edge of someone who didn't believe in coincidences any more than Francis did. "Whoever we're dealing with, they're not new to this. That kind of clean disappearance takes planning."Francis set the report down, leaning back in his chair, turning the dead end over in his mind. "Then we go around it instead of through it.""Richard," Naomi sai

"Something's wrong with the stock," Francis said, staring at the numbers scrolling across his monitor, the red arrow beside Skyward's ticker considerably steeper than it had any right to be given the week's otherwise positive momentum.Naomi appeared in his doorway within minutes of his call, tablet already open, scrolling through data with the fast, practiced focus of someone who'd clearly been tracking the same numbers independently. "Down six percent since this morning. No news to explain it. No earnings report, no negative press, nothing that should be moving the price this dramatically.""Which means someone's moving it manually," Francis said, standing to look over her shoulder at the data. "Short selling.""A coordinated wave of it," Naomi confirmed. "My team flagged unusual volume about an hour ago. Someone's betting heavily against Skyward, and betting in a way that doesn't make obvious financial sense unless the goal is something other than profit.""A message," Francis said