2025-06-03 21:50:36
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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
101
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
100
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
099 - Comeback Of Sarah Chen?!
The prison transfer was supposed to be routine. Two armored vehicles, six guards, three high-profile prisoners. Standard procedure for the Department of Corrections. Sarah Chen watched through the van's reinforced window as dawn broke over the highway. Beside her, her father Robert dozed, chains clinking with each bump in the road. Across the aisle, Victor Lang stared straight ahead, his face unreadable. Three years in prison hadn't broken Sarah. It had forged her into something harder, colder, more patient. Every day behind bars had been preparation for this moment. The guard nearest her checked his watch. Right on schedule. "Five minutes to checkpoint," the driver called back. Sarah closed her eyes, counting heartbeats. Any second now... The explosion came from beneath the lead vehicle, flipping it onto its side in a screech of metal and sparks. Their van slammed to a halt, tires smoking. "What the—" The guard never finished his sentence. A sniper's bullet shattered the wi
098
The morning shift at Walker Industries' bottling plant had just begun when the health inspectors arrived. Six of them, wearing crisp white coats and carrying metal clipboards, striding through the front entrance like they owned it. Brent was in his office at the Phoenix Foundation when James called. "They're saying it's a routine inspection," James said, his voice tight. "But they have an anonymous tip about contamination in the water supply." Brent's fingers drummed against his desk. Nothing was routine anymore. Not since Marion's arrest last week. "I'm on my way. Call Tommy and Jessica – I want them there. And get Ling to pull our latest safety reports." The factory sprawled across ten acres on the city's east side. Three hundred workers. State-of-the-art filtration systems. It was Brent's pride – proof that business could thrive while treating workers right. Now, as he pulled into the parking lot, he saw news vans gathering like vultures. Tommy met him at the entrance, hi
097
The city council chambers buzzed with tension. Hundreds packed the seats, spilling into the aisles. News cameras lined the back wall, their red lights blinking like watchful eyes. Brent Walker stood at the podium, a worn leather ledger resting beneath his hands. Marion Chen sat at the council table, her designer suit and perfect makeup a shield against what was coming. But Brent saw the tiny tremor in her manicured fingers as she shuffled papers. "Ms. Chen," Brent began, his voice carrying through the microphone. "For six years, you've served as head of the Worker's Compensation Board. A position of trust." "If you have accusations, Mr. Walker, make them." Marion's tone was ice. Brent opened the ledger. The spine crackled – a sound like breaking glass in the hushed room. "Three million dollars," he said. "Diverted from injury compensation funds into a series of offshore accounts. Shell companies. Private investments." He looked up. "Your investments." Marion's laugh was prac
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