2025-12-04 15:15:26The next evening arrived dressed in gold and glass.
The Grand Eclipse Centre, venue for the Global Business Conference, rose like a cathedral of ambition. A red-carpet walkway cut through marble steps; the vibe of conversation and camera flashes filled the cool night air. Derick stepped from the car with the quiet authority of someone who never needed to announce himself. His suit was cut in midnight black, the lapels catching the light like a blade. Lily followed, clipboard in hand, an earpiece gleaming beneath her hair. “Dankey’s team checked in,” she murmured as they passed security. “They’ve reserved a signing suite on the mezzanine. Press is waiting.” Derick nodded once. “Keep it smooth. No improvisation.” Inside, the building was all mirrored surfaces and strategic lighting, designed to make every guest look a little more powerful than they were. Waiters drifted between clusters of executives carrying crystal glasses; the scent of perfume and expensive cologne mixed with the soft rhythm of a live string quartet. Lily guided him through the crowd. “Everyone’s talking about the rumored deal,” she said quietly. “But no one suspects CrownLink is us.” Derick’s gaze swept the room. He recognized faces he hadn’t seen in years, old rivals, cautious allies, a few men who’d once laughed when Reed Innovations publicly disgraced him. They smiled now, polite and uncertain, sensing the shift in the air without knowing where it came from. A tall man approached, his badge reading Dankey Industries, Regional Head. “Mr. Cole,” he said, the name Derick used when working through Titan’s front. “We’re honored. Your proposal was…..unexpectedly perfect.” Derick shook his hand, voice calm. “Titan believes in efficiency.” “Then let’s make it efficiently official,” the man said, gesturing toward the signing suite. Lily handed Derick a folder. “Everything’s prepared,” she whispered. In the private suite the noise fell away. Cameras were ready: reporters waited behind a velvet rope. A banner displayed CrownLink Holdings x Dankey Industries, Strategic Alliance 2027. Derick scanned the contract quickly, initials already printed in digital ink. Dankey’s chairman lifted his pen.“To a prosperous partnership.” Derick signed. Flashbulbs erupted. In that split second the world shifted again: the contract Reed Innovations once called its heartbeat now belonged to Titan’s shadow. Lily’s phone buzzed. She checked the live feed and gave a small nod. “Every major network has picked it up.” Derick slid the pen across the table. “Let the show begin.” Outside the suite, applause echoed as the press release hit the main hall. Screens displayed the headline in real time: DANKEY INDUSTRIES SEALS EXCLUSIVE ALLIANCE WITH CROWNLINK HOLDINGS. For most, it was just business news. For one woman across the city, it would be ruin. He and Lily left the suite, blending into the flow of guests heading toward the main lobby where the gala reception had begun. The air buzzed with speculation, who were these new power players, what would it mean for the market, and what was left for Reed Innovations? Lily glanced at her tablet. “Reed’s delegation just arrived. Charlotte’s name is on the guest list…..and so is Brian Stone.” Derick’s steps slowed fractionally. “And Petrina?” “Oh she's here.” “Good.” They reached the foot of the marble staircase that led to the lobby doors. Music spilled down from above, elegant and hollow. Beyond the glass entrance, black cars were stopping one after another, photographers snapping. Lily adjusted her badge. “Do you want to avoid them?” “No.” Derick’s tone was flat. “I didn’t do anything wrong to have guilt in me.” The main lobby opened into a dazzling stretch of light and mirrors. Chandeliers floated overhead. Around them, conversations turned in waves, small, hushed exclamations as people recognized the man from CrownLink, unaware he was the ghost of another empire. “They’re here.” Lily informed Derrick. Reed Innovations’ team entered cautiously, led by Petrina in a sleek silver suit. Charlotte followed two steps behind, her expression wary. Brian hovered at Petrina’s shoulder, whispering something that made her nod without listening. Cameras flickered even though their company had begged the press for restraint. “They look…..smaller,” Lily murmured. Derick said nothing. His eyes found Petrina instantly. For a heartbeat she didn’t notice him. She was busy keeping her composure, lips curved in a professional smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Then Brian stilled mid-sentence, gaze locking past her. Petrina followed it. Her breath caught. Across the gleaming floor, Derick stood with one hand in his pocket, face unreadable. Lily glanced at him, whispering, “You said she wouldn’t see you.” “I said she wouldn’t know,” he replied quietly. His eyes held, no anger, no nostalgia, only a cold recognition. But hers held nothing but hate. Before anyone could move or say anything Brian was already moving towards Derrick. “You thief!” He yelled, gaining the attention of every single businessman and woman who were in the lobby.
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Victor Ashford
The Foundation black site sat buried deep within a mountain thirty kilometers from Davos. From the gravel road, it passed for a neglected ski lodge with boarded windows and rotting wood. Behind that shell lay a fortress of interrogation rooms.Julian Cross was slumped in a metal chair in the center of a windowless room, his wrists locked to a heavy table. A sling held his left arm tight against his chest while purple bruises darkened his jaw and cheek. A Foundation doctor had patched him up enough to talk, but the man was clearly holding back a scream with every breath he took.Derick walked in alone. He pulled out a chair and sat across from the prisoner.Cross looked up, his eyes like chips of ice. "Have you come here to gloat?""I came for information," Derick said. He kept his voice level and steady. "You are going to tell me what I need to know.""I am Ghost Protocol," Cross said with a dry, raspy voice. "We do not talk to people lik
The Davos Ambush
The main auditorium of the Davos Congress Centre was a sea of expensive suits and powerful faces. Three thousand people filled the rows. CEOs of Fortune 500 companies sat shoulder to shoulder with top government ministers and the heads of central banks. All around the place, journalists from every major news network adjusted their lenses and checked their feeds.Derick stood in the dim light behind the heavy stage curtains, waiting for his cue. He could hear his own breathing, steady and slow, while Jackson spoke directly into his ear through a tiny, hidden speaker."The facial recognition system is currently scanning every face in the building," Jackson said from the high-tech security room. "Our software is tracking how people move and how they shift in their seats. If anyone looks out of place or shows signs of a threat, we will see it before they even take a step.""How many people have we flagged?" Derick asked, his voice barely a whisper."W
Preparing the Trap
The following fourteen days vanished into a relentless cycle of logistics and tactical preparation. Jackson had transformed a secure hotel suite in Davos into a high-functioning command center. Digital displays lined the walls, casting a steady glow over personnel who had been working twenty-hour shifts to ensure every variable was controlled."Swiss intelligence has finalized their positions," Jackson said, his finger tracing the arteries of a digital map. "We have twenty-four officers stationed at every major entry and exit point of the town. No vehicle enters this valley without us knowing about it."Derick leaned over the map, his eyes scanning the terrain. "And what about our eyes inside the venue? Did Interpol come through?""Sixteen agents are already on the ground. They are fully integrated into the event staff. Some are carrying trays, others are checking press badges, and a few are working the security gates. If a single Ghost Protocol operative
Julian Cross
Later that night, back at the Foundation safe house, the air was thick with the smell of coffee. Jackson had spent twenty minutes on a secure phone with his old contacts in London. When he finally hung up, he looked at the group with a grim expression."Julian Cross is a real person," Jackson said. "My contacts found his file. He was one of the most decorated soldiers in British history. He has fifteen confirmed kills and did dozens of secret missions in Syria, Iraq, and Afghanistan."Jackson opened his laptop and turned the screen around. A photo appeared of a man in his early forties. He had short hair, and a sharp jawline"In 2009, Cross led a team into Syria to find a weapons factory," Jackson explained. "He killed eleven people during that raid. Three of them were children. He tried to claim they were armed, but the evidence showed he had murdered civilians."Charlotte stared at the photo. Her voice was full of anger. "He killed children?"
The Leak
The Foundation safe house stood as a lonely stone sentinel amidst the Scottish highlands. No neighbors lived within a twenty-mile radius, and the horizon remained unbroken by cell towers or the intrusion of internet signals.Derick arrived first, steering a rental car he had secured under a digital ghost of an identity. He had taken every possible precaution, leaving his primary phone in a drawer in New York, navigating three separate international flights with three different passports, and swapping vehicles twice during the final leg of the journey.Jackson followed shortly after, then Charlotte, Lily, and finally Marcus. Each member arrived via a distinct route. They eventually gathered in the main room, where the scent of burning peat filled the air and the fire crackled with a steady, rhythmic heat."Everyone sweep yourselves right now," Jackson said. He began distributing handheld detection devices to the group.They spent the next twenty minutes checking every seam of their clo
Compromised
Derick stared at the secure video screen showing Victoria Laurent's face. The Foundation technology specialist waited patiently for his decision."I need you to go deeper," Derick said. "Every corporation that benefited from Ghost Protocol assassinations. I want ownership structures, financial connections,and everything."Victoria hesitated. "Mr. Sekwiga, with respect, I work for Sebastian Dubois. He assigned me to help with pattern analysis, but expanding the investigation would require his authorization.""Then I'll get it from someone with equal authority," Derick replied. He switched to another line and called the one person he trusted least but needed most right now.The call connected. Victoria Laurent's face appeared on screen, but this was a different Victoria Laurent.Derick had to remind himself this wasn't Victoria. The Foundation had too many Laurents. This was someone else entirely. He'd been told her name but couldn't recall
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