2026-01-24 04:19:54Viviane sat still for a long time. She glanced at the wall clock, then opened the stock app on her tablet and searched for PetroX Energy. The chart was still calm and green. The news feed was clean. No sign of disaster.
“You’re completely insane, Matt,” Viviane murmured into the silence of the night. Yet, deep down, for the first time in a very long while, Viviane Lane felt a sliver of terrifying hope. She set her alarm for 8:40 a.m. She had to see it with her own eyes.
Meanwhile, in the dark guest room, Matthew stood before the mirror.
[MISSION ACTIVATED : WIN THE MONOLITH LAND AUCTION.]
[CHALLENGE : INSUFFICIENT LIQUIDITY.]
[SOLUTION : SHORT-TERM SYSTEM LOAN OPTION OR POST-AUCTION ASSET LIQUIDATION?]
“System ARC,” Matthew whispered. “Display Emergency Tactical Funding options.”
[EMERGENCY TACTICAL FUNDING : AVAILABLE AS ANONYMOUS BOND INSTRUMENTS. REPAYMENT DEADLINE : 24 HOURS. INTEREST : 50 PERCENT EXPERIENCE POINT REDUCTION.]
Matthew grinned at his own reflection. “XP interest? Cheap. Prepare the funds for tomorrow morning. We’re going land hunting.”
That night, Matthew slept soundly, while Viviane, lying beside him, could not close her eyes for even a second, waiting for the sunrise that would decide the fate of her marriage and her company.
8:44 a.m. Inside a black Mercedes-Maybach limousine gliding smoothly through Manhattan traffic, the silence felt suffocating.
Viviane Lane sat stiffly in the passenger seat. Her eyes were locked on her tablet screen, her index finger tapping the frame in a nervous rhythm. The Bloomberg financial news app was open, showing PetroX Energy stock still glowing a calm green.
“One more minute,” Viviane murmured, barely audible, then glanced at Matthew sitting casually across from her.
Matthew Thomas looked different this morning. He wore a jet-black suit, one of his impulsive purchases from the day before, perfectly tailored to his solid frame. His hair was neatly styled, and the predatory aura he had radiated at home the night before now felt even sharper, as if he had been born for this battlefield.
“You look nervous, Vie,” Matthew said calmly, gazing out the window at the approaching buildings of Rockefeller Center.
“Nervous? I’m betting the life of the company on the weather forecast of a man who just woke up from a coma,” Viviane hissed without taking her eyes off the screen. “If this stock doesn’t crash, the driver is turning this car straight to a psychiatric hospital.”
Matthew smiled faintly. “Be patient.”
The moment the digital clock on the dashboard flipped to 8:45, a red notification flashed onto Viviane’s tablet screen.
BREAKING NEWS : PETROX ENERGY’S ‘NORTH SEA GIANT’ MAIN PIPELINE SUFFERS MASSIVE LEAK. EUROPEAN OIL EXPORTS HALTED.
Within seconds, the green chart plunged into a vertical free fall of blood-red lines. Minus five percent… minus eight percent… minus twelve percent.
Viviane gasped, her breath catching as she stared at the screen in disbelief and awe she could not hide. “How… how did you know?” she asked, looking up at her husband.
“I told you, Viviane. I see what others don’t,” Matthew replied, leaning forward. “Now we have a deal. You get me inside, and you let me take control.”
Viviane swallowed hard, looking at her husband with new eyes. Fear of failure slowly gave way to adrenaline, and at last she nodded.
“Alright. Don’t make me regret this, Matt.”
***
Christie’s Auction House at Rockefeller Plaza was packed with New York’s elite. The room smelled of old money, mahogany, and tension hidden behind polite smiles.
Real estate developers, investment bankers, and hedge fund representatives sat in rows of velvet chairs, holding their bidding paddles. In the front row sat a heavyset man in a pinstriped suit that was slightly too tight. Reginald Holt.
Reginald was laughing loudly with the man beside him when he spotted Viviane entering. His laughter paused, then turned into a mocking grin when he saw Matthew walking at her side.
“Well, look who’s here,” Reginald called out, loud enough to draw attention. “Lane Corp’s Sleeping Beauty and her pet dog. I heard you almost died yesterday, Matthew. Too bad that truck missed by a few inches.”
Viviane stiffened, about to respond, but Matthew placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.
“Save your energy,” Matthew whispered into her ear. “We’re here to buy land, not entertain a circus clown.”
Reginald snorted. “Buy? With what? Discount coupons? That Brooklyn Navy Yard land needs a twenty-million-dollar cash deposit up front, kid. Lane Corp can barely pay its electricity bill this month.”
Matthew looked Reginald straight in the eye. System ARC began scanning him through Matthew’s retinas.
[SCANNING TARGET : REGINALD HOLT.]
[FINANCIAL ANALYSIS : IN PROGRESS.]
[LIQUID ASSETS : $85,000,000.]
[WEAKNESS DETECTED : HIGH LEVERAGE IN NEVADA CASINO PROJECT. IF FUNDS EXCEEDING $90 MILLION ARE DEPLOYED TODAY, PRIMARY BANK LOAN DEFAULT WILL OCCUR.]
A thin smile appeared on Matthew’s lips. The information was a golden bullet.
“Worry about your own wallet, Reg,” Matthew replied calmly. “I hear your Nevada casino project is desperate for fresh capital. Be careful not to overspend here and go bankrupt there.”
Reginald’s face paled instantly. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. How does Matthew know about the Nevada casino? That project is confidential.
“Sit down,” Reginald growled, his humor gone. “We’ll see who’s crying later.”
The auction began. One by one, properties across Manhattan and its surroundings were sold. The auctioneer’s rapid, rhythmic voice filled the room, punctuated by the echoing crack of the gavel.
“Next, Lot 402,” the auctioneer announced.
The massive screen displayed an aerial map of a wide coastal plot in Brooklyn. A strategic location. An abandoned shipyard. But to trained eyes, it was a logistics gold mine. The heart of Project Monolith.
“Fifteen hectares at the Navy Yard. Heavy industrial and commercial zoning. Opening price, ten million dollars.”
“Ten million!” shouted a developer from the left.
“Twelve million!” countered a representative from a Chinese investment group.
“Fifteen million!” Reginald Holt barked confidently, raising his paddle marked with the number 88 high while turning toward Viviane with a mocking wink.
The room fell silent. Fifteen million was a fair market price for the disputed land.
“Fifteen million from Mr. Holt,” the auctioneer called out. “Any other bids? Sixteen?”
Viviane gripped paddle number 101 in her lap with trembling hands. Cold sweat coated her palms. She turned to Matthew, who remained silent and motionless. “Matt? We have to go in now. Our absolute ceiling from remaining company cash is eighteen million.”
“Wait,” Matthew said flatly.
“Wait for what? He’s about to close!” Viviane whispered in panic.
“Fifteen million, going once…” the auctioneer raised the gavel.
Reginald was already standing, straightening his suit, ready to claim victory with a smug grin.
“Fifteen million, going twice…”
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CHAPTER 29 : The Purge of the Inner Circle
Matthew turned his gaze to Carol. The elderly woman seemed to shrink into her chair. Her legendary arrogance collapsed in the face of facts laid bare.“And you, Carol,” Matthew said, his voice softening, which only made it more terrifying. “You allowed this to happen. You cared more about your social status than your husband’s legacy. You almost sold your own daughter, Viviane, to Reginald Holt for a cash infusion that Dimitri was going to steal as well.”“This is ridiculous, Matthew,” Carol hissed, her voice trembling between anger and fear. “You think that just because you won a few contracts, you can dictate who sits on this board? This is the company my husband built.”“The company you nearly bankrupted, Carol,” Matthew replied flatly. His voice was not loud, yet it echoed with an authority that silenced the room.Matthew felt a sharp sting at his temple, a small price for total dominan
CHAPTER 28 : Confrontation with the Patriarch
“Who am I?” Matthew chuckled, a cold sound that sent a shiver up Dimitri’s spine. “That is the wrong question. The real question is, who are you without Lane Corp.?"“Lane Corp is my inheritance,” Dimitri roared. “My blood.”“Lane Corp was a walking corpse before I injected life into it,” Matthew replied calmly, his gaze locking onto Dimitri’s.“You offer fifty million? That pocket change would not even cover my system’s operational costs for one hour.”“You… you are insane,” Dimitri hissed. “I will destroy you. I have connections you cannot comprehend. The board of directors…”“The board only cares about profit,” Matthew cut in as he pulled a slim tablet from his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the desk, right atop the shredded check. “Look.”Dimitri hesitated, then picked up the tablet. The scre
CHAPTER 27 : The Hunt Has Begun
Two days later.New York’s financial world was in an uproar over the sudden collapse of James Sterling and his investment firm. No one knew how it had happened. The viral market news dismissed it as nothing more than an unlucky flash crash.That morning, Matthew was slowly sipping his black coffee when his private phone vibrated. The number was unfamiliar, but he knew exactly who was calling.“Yes?” Matthew answered flatly.“You… you’re a demon, Matthew,” James’s voice rasped on the other end. It shook with restrained sobs and desperate rage. “You trapped me with that garbage data. You destroyed my life, my family, everything.”“You’re the one who chose to press the execution button, James,” Matthew replied coldly. “Your greed was the architect of your own destruction.”“I won’t let you win. I have connections in the Consortium. They will hunt you down. I’ll make sure you rot in prison or end up in a gutter,” James shrieked.Matthew looked down at his coffee cup, completely unmoved by
CHAPTER 26 : Cold Currency War
“You will return to your office and call James Sterling,” Matthew instructed. “Tell him the sabotage was successful. Tell him you weakened the concrete structure across all of Sector 4 and that next week’s inspection will fail catastrophically.”“But… the inspection won’t fail, right?” Arthur asked, confused.“Of course not. You will replace the bad concrete with top-grade material tonight,” Matthew said firmly. “But James must believe this project is a ticking time bomb.”Viviane understood now. Her eyes shone as she grasped her husband’s strategy. “You want James to think we’re weak.”“I want him to think we’re already dead,” Matthew replied, then looked back at Arthur. “So, Arthur? Prison or double agent?”Arthur nodded quickly, desperately. “Double agent. I’ll do anything for you, sir. I swear on my children’s lives,” he said plainly.Matthew released his grip, returned to the tablet on the table, and pressed accept.[Transfer Complete: $2,500,000 credited to Arthur Pendelton]“Th
CHAPTER 25 : A Case of Betrayal
The next day,The blazing midday sun scorched the construction site of the Monolith Project along the harbor coast. The crash of waves competed with the thunder of pile drivers and the shouted orders of foremen directing massive cranes.Concrete dust and the smell of diesel filled the air, the scent of progress for Lane Corp. Yet it was also the scent of opportunity for predators. Inside a command container that had been converted into a cold, air-conditioned field office, Matthew Thomas stood facing a holographic table.His eyes, now carrying a permanent faint blue glint since the activation of Level 3, scanned thousands of lines of logistical code cascading like a digital waterfall.Viviane sat on the corner sofa, reviewing legal documents. From time to time, she glanced toward her husband. Something had changed in Matthew since the night at the Obsidian Vault.He seemed more efficient, sharper. Yet also more distant. His human warmth felt sealed beneath a thin layer of ice.“All re
CHAPTER 24 : The Legacy Module
The clock on the penthouse wall showed three fifteen in the morning. The silence inside the luxury apartment felt heavy, broken only by Viviane’s soft breathing as she slept deeply on the living room sofa.She had been too exhausted to even walk to the bedroom after the night of relentless social tension at The Gilded Gala. Matthew Thomas sat in a leather armchair facing the massive glass window that framed the New York skyline.His expensive suit jacket lay discarded on the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his chest rising and falling slowly. In his hand, a glass of aged scotch trembled slightly, following the faint shake in his fingers.“A long night,” Matthew murmured to his own reflection in the glass.He was not speaking to anyone. Yet something was listening. Something that lived inside his cerebral cortex, fused with the neurons and synapses of his brain.Suddenly, a sharp pain far more intense than anything before slammed into the base of his skull. The glass slipped
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