Divorced on Monday, Bought the City on Tuesday: The Infinite

The Council of Sovereigns

Chapter 45

The orbital quantum ledger cut through the Vivaldi bloodline’s military-grade encryption like a scalpel through silk. 

Inside the boardroom of the presidential palace, the holographic map of Europe flickered and dissolved. In its place, a massive grid of four high-definition video feeds materialized in the center of the smart-glass table. 

Nyx typed furiously, her neon-green eyes reflecting the cascading code. "I’m in, boss. I’ve hijacked their secure channel. We have audio and video, but I’ve scrambled our feed so they can’t see us. You’re a ghost in their machine."

Arthur leaned over the table, staring at the four faces hovering in the air. 

These were the Sovereigns. The invisible architects of the modern world. 

In the top left feed sat Lord Vivaldi. The Italian patriarch looked utterly unhinged. His usually immaculate silver hair was wildly disheveled, his face pale and slick with panicked sweat. He was screaming at the camera. 

"He vaporized my naval base!" Vivaldi roared, his heavy accent cracking under the strain. "The Italian government is threatening to seize my assets! This Vance creature possesses technology that defies human science! He didn’t use terrestrial banks, he used a shadow network! We must authorize a coordinated nuclear strike on San Marcos immediately!"

"Control yourself, Vivaldi." 

The voice came from the top right feed. It belonged to Patriarch Roth. He sat in a dimly lit, wood-paneled study somewhere in London. He was an incredibly old man, kept alive by obvious cybernetic medical tubing laced into his throat. His voice was a dry, raspy wheeze, but it carried the weight of centuries of absolute power. 

"A nuclear strike would trigger global annihilation," Roth wheezed, his pale eyes narrowing. "You allowed a petty dispute over a regional debt to escalate into a direct assault on Sovereign infrastructure. You underestimated him, Vivaldi. And now you bleed."

"He destroyed the Crimson Saints!" Vivaldi shrieked, slamming his fist onto his desk. "Four apex bio-weapons, completely eradicated in seconds! He is not a man. He is a demon!"

In the bottom left feed, a middle-aged woman wearing a pristine, high-collared silk dress laughed softly. This was Madam Chen, the head of the Asian Syndicate. "A demon? Or simply an anomaly? The Chen Syndicate controls the global manufacturing lines. If this Arthur Vance possesses advanced technological assets, we shouldn't destroy him. We should dissect him. Reverse-engineer his toys."

"You are fools," a deep, rumbling voice echoed from the final feed. Lord Romanov, a massive man with a thick beard and eyes like frozen granite, glared out from a fortified bunker in Moscow. "He owns a sovereign state. He owns a ghost fleet. If we do not crush him completely, the global markets will realize we are no longer the absolute masters of the earth. We will lose control of the geopolitical narrative."

Arthur listened to them bicker. They sounded like aging wolves fighting over a dying carcass. 

"They don't understand what you are, Arthur," Victoria Sterling whispered, standing closely by his side. "They still think you are a corporation they can outmaneuver or buy."

"Let's correct that misconception," Arthur said. He placed his hands flat on the glass table. "Nyx. Unscramble our video feed. Put me in the center of their screen."

"With pleasure, boss," Nyx smirked, popping a pink bubble. 

On the massive holographic display, a fifth, central window forcefully materialized, shoving the four Sovereigns to the corners of the grid. 

The feed displayed Arthur Vance. He sat comfortably in the leather chair at the head of his boardroom, perfectly lit, perfectly composed. His bespoke charcoal suit and blood-red tie contrasted sharply with the chaotic panic of his enemies. 

The screaming in the Sovereign summit instantly stopped. 

Total, suffocating silence gripped the video call as the four most powerful people on the planet stared at the man who was actively dismantling their reality. 

"Good evening," Arthur said, his voice entirely relaxed. It didn't hold a trace of anger. "I apologize for interrupting the summit. I noticed my invitation was lost in the mail."

Vivaldi’s eyes bulged in absolute terror. "You! How did you breach this frequency?!"

"I bought it," Arthur replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. "I own the satellites you bounce your signals off. I own the fiber-optic cables beneath your oceans. And as of ten minutes ago, I own the debt on your private bunkers."

Patriarch Roth leaned forward, his cybernetic breathing tubes hissing softly. "Arthur Vance. You are a very bold young man. You possess impressive capital. But infinite money cannot buy you a seat at this table. You are new money. We are bloodlines carved into history."

Arthur let out a low, vibrating chuckle. The *Aura of the Sovereign* bled through the digital feed, an impossible, heavy pressure that made the aging patriarchs physically flinch in their respective bunkers. 

"I don't want a seat at your table, Roth," Arthur said coldly, the amusement vanishing from his voice. "Your table is rotting. Your banks are parasitic. You've spent two hundred years suffocating the world to line your own pockets. I didn't come to negotiate."

"Then what do you want?!" Madam Chen snapped, her composed facade cracking. 

Arthur’s golden eyes swept across the four monitors. He locked eyes with each of them, a predator analyzing its prey. 

"I want your surrender," Arthur stated, his voice ringing with absolute finality. "I want the total liquidation of the Roth banking empire. I want the Chen manufacturing syndicate dissolved. I want Romanov's private military contracts signed over to Vance Corp. And I want Vivaldi brought to me in chains."

Vivaldi let out a hysterical gasp, stumbling backward away from his camera. 

"You are insane!" Romanov roared, his fist crashing into his desk. "We command the armies of the world! We control the politicians! We will drown your little island in blood!"

"Try it," Arthur smiled. It was a terrifying, chilling expression. "You have twenty-four hours to sign the unconditional surrender documents Nyx just emailed to your private terminals. If you refuse, I won't just bankrupt you. I will systematically hunt down every single asset, every single estate, and every single heir in your bloodlines, and I will erase you from human history."

Arthur didn't wait for a response. He looked at Nyx and nodded. 

"Shut it down."

The holographic screens collapsed into static, plunging the boardroom back into silence. 

Victoria Sterling let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She looked at Arthur with a mixture of profound terror and absolute worship. 

"Arthur," Victoria whispered. "You just declared open war against the entire world."

"No, Victoria," Arthur corrected, standing up from his chair. He adjusted his cuffs, his golden eyes glowing fiercely in the dim light. "I just finalized the purchase of the world. Now we just have to wait for the check to clear."

He turned toward the heavy glass doors. "Vera. Prepare the armory. We're going to need more Vanguards."