2025-05-28 14:34:28
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105
It was just past dawn when the call came. Brent was in his office, nursing a cold cup of coffee and reviewing the new security protocols, when James rushed in, breathless. “Boss, it’s Hope. She’s gone.” Brent’s world stopped. Hope—just ten years old, the daughter of one of the Foundation’s first rescued workers, Tommy and Jessica.She was bright, brave, and always smiling. She called Brent “Uncle” and left him little drawings on his desk. Now she was missing. James handed over a phone. A distorted voice played on the message: “Walker, if you want the girl back, you’ll stop your raids. You’ll stop helping victims. Shut down the Phoenix Foundation or you’ll never see her again.” Brent knew that voice. Sarah. Always bold, always cruel, even from the shadows. He stood, every muscle tense. “Get everyone here. Now. Nobody leaves until we have her back.” The war room filled fast—Jes
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The morning was bright, but no one at the Phoenix Foundation felt calm. Sofia’s voice was sharp and steady over the speakerphone as she laid it all out for Brent and his team. “I’m telling you, Brent. This place is wrong. They’re calling it a charity, but it’s a trafficking front. I’ve seen the signs.” Brent leaned forward, knuckles white against the table. “Are you sure?” “Yes,” Sofia answered. “I went there undercover. They say they help women and kids, but no one ever leaves. The doors are locked. The staff are armed. And the CEO, Gregory Vance, keeps everything secret. I saw a girl slip a note under the bathroom door. It said, ‘Help us.’” Silence filled the room. Jessica looked pale. Tommy shook his head, furious. Brent’s voice was low but clear. “Where’s the location?” Sofia gave him the address. Brent scribbled it down, then nodded at Adam. “Get me everything on Gregory Vance. F
103
The church was old, stone, and silent. Rain tapped on the stained glass as Brent’s custom Rolls-Royce pulled up at the curb. The car was deep black, polished until it shone like a mirror. Inside, Brent sat alone in the back seat, hands folded tight. His eyes were closed. He wore a simple black suit. He looked tired, older, but his jaw was set. When he stepped out, people turned. Some whispered, recognizing him. Others only saw a tall man with heavy steps, walking toward a funeral he wished he never had to attend. The whistleblower’s name was Daniel. He was only thirty. His family was there—his mother, sister, a few cousins. Some old friends from school. Daniel’s mother clutched a tissue in one hand and a letter in the other. Brent saw her glance at him once, her eyes red and raw. Brent sat at the back, head bowed. He listened to the priest speak about courage, about sacrifi
102
It was the morning after Brent’s press conference. The air felt heavy, like something bad was about to happen. Brent arrived at the Phoenix Foundation before sunrise. His eyes were red, but he moved fast. He had not slept. None of them had.Jessica was already there, hunched over her laptop. She looked up as Brent walked in.“I found something,” she said, her voice low. “The water bottles we pulled from the last shipment. They’re all tainted. Even worse than before.”Brent’s jaw tightened. “Who did it?”Jessica tapped her screen. “The labels say they came from BlueSpring Co. But the real supplier is hidden. I traced payments to a bigger company. Shield Holdings. They own BlueSpring and five other bottling plants. And someone in Shield is working with Sarah.”Brent nodded. “Can we prove it?”Jessica nodded.. “I followed the money. Bribes, fake contracts, shell companies. It’s all here. The head of Shield Holdings is a man named Richard Gale. But the board runs everything. And two boa
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The Phoenix Foundation’s website went dark at 2:12 a.m. Brent was awake, hunched over quarterly reports in his study, when James’s urgent call came through.“Boss, we’ve been hacked. Homepage is offline. Check Twitter—Sarah’s bots are pushing stories about us running a trafficking ring. She’s got screenshots, fake chat logs, even a video.”Brent pinched the bridge of his nose. “Get Adam and Jessica on a secure call. Now.”Within minutes, the war room—once again the Foundation’s conference room—was alive with the thrum of adrenaline. Jessica’s fingers flew over her keyboard, her eyes darting between screens.“Servers compromised through an old vendor portal. They injected a worm, wiped our backups, then uploaded the fake files. It’s everywhere. Reddit, Telegram, news blogs. Even people who hated Sarah are amplifying it.”Lucy’s hands shook as she scrolled through the accusations. “It’s so thorough. They named real employees. They’ve even got… photoshopped evidence.”Tommy slammed a f
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The Phoenix Foundation's conference room had become a war room. Maps and charts covered the walls, laptops crowded the table, and coffee cups multiplied like rabbits. Three days since Sarah's escape, and sleep was a distant memory. Brent stood at the head of the table, his tie loose, sleeves rolled up. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, but his voice remained steady. "Walk me through it again," he said. Jessica tapped her tablet, projecting a supply chain diagram onto the main screen. Red lines traced connections between companies, forming a web of relationships and transactions. "The contamination came from here." She highlighted a node. "Pure Stream Solutions. They provided our filtration equipment for the past eight months." Tommy leaned forward. "Seemed legitimate. Perfect paper trail, great references." "Too perfect," Brent muttered. He studied the company details. "Who owns them?" "That's where it gets interesting." Jessica swiped to another screen. "Shell companies. Lots
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