The Grand commander's Return; Ex-wife's fatal Mistake

Chapter 10: the sweating fraud

High above, the massive LED screens still flashed the brilliant headline. Sawyer-Cromwell Valuation: $184.50 (+14.2%), while the fading echoes of laughing investors and snapping press cameras drifted toward the exit archways.

​Beside Brody, Nala was still flushed red from Fiona's casually dismissing her. “Hmph! That Declan was a leech after all, We've barely divorced and he's already found wealthy women to feed on! What a shameless golddigger!” She sneered, glaring at Declan's back.

​Brody didn't comment. He couldn't.

​His right hand was locked onto the tablet in a vice grip so tight his knuckles turned bone-white. ​The screen wasn't blue. It was a pulsing, violent, flashing crimson.

​89.4% memory overload?! The primary servers housed in the convention center's subterranean vaults were literally melting from the inside out! The 100% integration status shown on the main stage screen ten minutes ago hadn't been a permanent fix, it was a temporary, dangerous power surge that was now burning through the main processors!

​Cold, prickly sweat erupted along his hairline, his hand began to tremble.

​Nala caught the sudden, jerky tremor in his wrist. She turned, her expression instantly softening. She reached over, gently taking his shaking fingers, her manicured nails pressing into his skin with tender care.

​"Are you okay?" Nala asked softly,  glancing at the small screen in Brody's hand.

“Y.yeah” Brody choked out, subtly tuning the screen away from her gaze. “Just making sure everything is okay!” He said, forcing a strained smile on his pale face.

Nala sighed, her eyes filled with maternal warmth "You’ve been working yourself to the bone for this launch, you look exhausted. Relax, the system is unhackable. Harrison Grant himself validated us!."

The words were supposed to make Brody feel better, but it only increased his heart beat. “It's better safe than sorry, no telling what your jealous ex-husband might do to sabotage us” He muttered, frantically tapping an emergency override code on the tablet, attempting to force the overflowing data into backup channels.

​ERROR: OVERRIDE REJECTED.

REASON: ACCESS DENIED.

​Access denied?! Brody's mind shrieked in terror. He had bought this system! He had funded the integration! He had signed the patent filings! Why was the system rejecting his commands?!

​"Brody!" a sharp, booming voice called out from behind them.

Matthew Langstone, the senior board Vice-chairman of Cromwell Capital, marched over alongside Ethan and Martha, holding a fresh glass of champagne.

​"The central bankers are waiting in the VIP room," Matthew declared, his eyes gleaming with greedy ambition. "They want a live walk-through of our backup security features before we sign the final $500 million contract. Come on!"

​"I... I need a moment, Matthew," Brody stammered, backing away by half a step, his fingers clutching the tablet  so hard his nails nearly drew blood. "Severe headache. The stage lights."

Matthew's eyes narrowed into sharp slits, taking in Brody’s slick, pale skin and unsteady footing. "A headache? On the night of our peak stock price? Don't lose your nerve now, Cromwell. The state regulators are sitting in that room."

​"I said I have it under control!" Brody snapped, his voice cracking with a high-pitched, desperate edge that made several nearby reporters freeze and turn their heads in surprise.

​Nala stepped in quickly, placing a protective hand on Brody’s chest while giving Matthew an apologetic, dazzling smile. "Give him ten minutes, Matthew . He's been up for forty-eight hours straight refining the core system. Let him catch his breath."

​"Ten minutes, Cromwell," Matthew  warned coldly, taking a slow sip of his champagne. "Or the board handles the deal without you."

​Brody didn't wait for Matthew to turn around. He turned on his heel and practically stumbled toward the subterranean server room.

Brody slammed through the heavy double security doors, the noise of the main ballroom upstairs vanished behind thick insulation.

He scrambled to the master diagnostic console, pulling out his private black tablet with a shaking hand. He jammed the data cable into the main port.

"Dump the memory! Force emergency cooling now!" Brody screamed at the dark screen, his fingers hammering the mechanical keyboard with frantic speed.

ACCESS DENIED MEMORY OVERLOAD: 89.4% AND RISING SERVER TEMPERATURE: 94°C CRITICAL HARDWARE DAMAGE IMMINENT

"No! No, no, no!" Brody shrieked, slamming his fist against the steel desk.

Across the glass bay, a sharp metallic grinding noise echoed through the room. . The central processing units were melting under an invisible, runaway heat surge.

Brody fell back against the desk, clutching his head as cold sweat drenched his silk shirt collar.

Upstairs, five hundred investors, central bankers, and state regulators were sipping vintage champagne, celebrating a company valuation of $184.50 per share. Nala was on the main stage, bragging to reporters that their system was unhackable. Board Chairman Matthew was waiting in the VIP suite to sign a $500 million credit contract.

If these servers crashed right now, the live stock price would plummet to zero before midnight. Brody would not just lose his fortune, he would go to prison for fraud.

He didn't fix it... Brody thought, his breath coming in ragged, terrified gasps. Declan never fixed the core system code! He patched it just enough to survive the public launch and leave us to burn!

Terrified, Brody snatched his phone from his pocket out, his fingers slick with sweat. He opened an encrypted messaging app, frantically contacting Viper-Tech, a notorious dark-web hardware hacker.

BRODY: Emergency! Chiller fans are fried and temp is hitting 97!

VIPER: $15M wire. Offshore Cayman account.

Brody opened the Cromwell main treasury account , bypassed three securities without hesitation and authorized a  $15,000,000 wire transfer straight out of Cromwell Capital’s restricted emergency reserve.

A few minutes later, the system’s temperature began to drop.

Brody slumped against the steel console laughing hysterically. “Declan, you vindictive bastard. You thought you could scare me with your tricks.”

Outside the State Convention Center, a freezing rain slicked the dark asphalt driveway.

Declan  stepped out from the warm hotel foyer into the chill air. He opened the door of the maybach for Fiona to enter and slid calmly into the executive leather rear seat. 

Fiona turned toward Declan and looked at him closely, her soft brow furrowed with genuine concern.

"Declan," Fiona spoke softly, her voice warm and careful. "Are you alright?"

Declan turned his gaze from the passing streetlights. "I'm fine, Miss Griffin."

Fiona sighed, resting her hand lightly near his sleeve. "Nala was out of line back there on the stairs.  I know you spent three years building that company with her in a garage. Seeing her give all the credit to Brody... it must sting."

Declan’s face remained completely calm. His dark eyes were tranquil, showing neither anger nor regret.

"Nala doesn't mean anything to me anymore," Declan replied smoothly. 

Fiona studied his steady posture, amazed by his absolute composure. "You really don't care, do you? Most men would be furious."

"Anger is a waste of energy," Declan said simply.

BZZZZ.

A subtle vibration buzzed inside Declan’s inner jacket pocket. He reached in and pulled out a sleek, unbranded carbon-fiber phone. A single encrypted text message from Vice-Director Harrison Grant popped up on the black screen.

Sovereign: Brody Cromwell just executed an illegal $15M wire transfer from Cromwell Capital’s reserve fund to manually force the vault chillers to cool.

Declan read the text once. His expression didn't change by a fraction of a millimeter.

He tapped a secure application on the carbon-fiber slate. He brought his right thumb down onto the glass sensor. A razor-thin red laser line swept across his fingerprint.

BIOMETRIC VERIFIED CLEARANCE: GRAND COMMANDER INITIATING HARDWARE DEGRADATION [PHASE 1]

Declan tapped the single blue icon on the display.

“What's that?" Fiona asked, pointing at the glowing screen.

Declan smoothly locked the screen, sliding the carbon-fiber slate back into his inner suit jacket. He looked out the rain-streaked window at the distant, glowing tower of the convention center.

"Just starting a timer, Miss Griffin," Declan replied in his usual calm, even voice.

Fiona frowned slightly, puzzled.  "A timer for what?"

"Brody built his house on stolen ground," Declan said quietly, his voice deep and absolute. "It’s time for the roof to cave in."