By Tuesday morning the air inside Reed Innovations already felt wrong.
Phones were ringing more than usual, and every voice sounded a little too careful. Petrina stepped out of the elevator clutching her tablet. “Good morning,” she called. No one answered. Her assistant only gave a thin smile before vanishing down the hall. She walked into the conference room where Charlotte was pacing between chairs. “What’s going on?” Charlotte looked up. “One of our partner banks froze a credit line overnight. They said it’s ‘temporary’ while they re-evaluate risk exposure.” “Risk exposure to what?” Petrina’s eyes narrowed. Charlotte shook her head. “They didn’t say. I’ve been calling since six a.m.” Petrina exhaled sharply. “We just renewed that facility last quarter. They can’t—” “They did,” Charlotte said. “And two suppliers are holding shipments until payment clears. If this keeps up, we’ll miss the Dankey contract delivery.” “What payment? We’ve never paid for any additional thing!” Charlotte exhaled through her nose. “Well it turns out there was always a two million dollars charge on every shipment—“ “TWO MILLION!?” Petrina yelled. “How did we never know about this?” Charlotte merely shook her head. “I’m as confused as you, Petrina.” “Get legal on the line,” she ordered. “We’ll make them explain.” Charlotte hesitated. “Petrina, there’s more. The investors’ group chat is buzzing. Someone’s saying our liquidity is in question.” “That’s ridiculous,” Petrina snapped. “We’re solid.” “Are you sure?” Petrina turned to her, eyes wide. “I said, we’re solid.” Charlotte nodded slowly, but Petrina's eyes said she wasn’t sure. By noon the office felt like a storm. Department heads huddled in corners whispering, printers spat out reports that no one wanted to read. Petrina stood behind her glass desk staring at the skyline, phone pressed to her ear. “I need reassurance, Daniel,” she said. “You’ve been our banker for years.” The voice on the other end sounded apologetic. “It’s not personal, Ms. Duck. Head office ordered a review. Something about undisclosed guarantees connected to your vendor accounts.” “Guarantees?” she repeated. “What guarantees?” “I can’t discuss details,” Daniel said. “But you might want to check your backend transactions.” The call ended. Petrina lowered the phone slowly. For the first time she felt a flicker of fear. Fear she had never felt since Reed innovations peaked up. Charlotte entered without knocking. “Brian’s here,” she said. “He says he can help.” Brian walked in like a calm wave. “You look exhausted,” he said gently. “Sit down.” “I don’t have time to sit,” she said, voice tight. “Everything’s going sideways.” He set a folder on her desk. “Let me take a look at the numbers. I’ve handled worse.” Charlotte folded her arms. “Do you have clearance to see those files?” Brian smiled politely. “Just trying to help.” “Help is fine,” Charlotte said, “but half of these problems started after you joined as a consultant. Maybe we should slow down and verify what’s real before—” “Charlotte,” Petrina cut in. “Not now.” Charlotte blinked. “I’m only saying be careful who you trust.” Brian kept his tone soft. “I understand your concern. Everyone’s nervous. But panic only feeds rumors.” He turned back to Petrina. “You’re the face of this company. If you show confidence, others will follow.” She wanted to believe that. “The banks have frozen lines,” she said. “Suppliers are walking…..running at this point.” “Temporary turbulence,” Brian said smoothly. “By tomorrow, I’ll have new funding routed. I just need you to sign a few authorizations so I can negotiate directly.” Charlotte frowned. “Authorizations for what, exactly?” “Standard finance-team access,” he lied easily. “Nothing unusual.” Petrina rubbed her forehead. “Do it. If it gets us breathing room, I’ll sign.” Charlotte looked like she wanted to argue, then stepped back. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But I’m checking every document before it leaves this office.” Brian nodded as if that were perfectly acceptable. Petrina stayed long after everyone else had gone. The floor was dark except for her office lights. She scrolled through figures that no longer made sense. Revenue streams that used to glow green now blinked red. Email after email from partners demanding confirmation of payments. Her phone buzzed. Charlotte again. “Go home,” her friend said. “You’ve been at it for sixteen hours.” “I can’t,” Petrina murmured. “If I fix this, maybe we can still deliver on the Dankey deal.” “Petrina—listen to me. Something’s off about Brian. He’s too calm. He knew the accounts were being frozen before we did.” “How could he?” “I don’t know,” Charlotte said. “But he’s pushing you to sign things. Check what they are before you do.” Petrina sighed. “You’re imagining things.” “I hope I am,” Charlotte said softly. “But promise me you’ll look.” “I’ll look.” When the call ended, Petrina set the phone down and buried her face in her hands. From the window she could see the reflection of herself: the composed CEO façade cracking around the edges. And behind that reflection, she imagined Derick’s calm face as he’d walked out of the gala. The look that said you’ll regret this. Her stomach twisted. “He must have leaked something,” she whispered. “He’s trying to ruin me.” The thought hardened into certainty. If Derick was out there pulling strings, she would show him she didn’t need him. The next day began with shouting in the accounting department. “Half the invoices bounced!” someone yelled. “The system says our accounts are restricted!” Petrina came running. “What’s happening?” A young analyst looked up from her screen. “Ma’am, the bank revoked our auto-clearance. Payments are flagged as high-risk.” “What?! Then call them!” Petrina barked. “We tried. They won’t pick up.” Charlotte appeared at her side, face pale. “Three investors just withdrew. I can’t reach the rest.” Petrina forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Keep everyone calm. This is just a glitch.” Brian entered moments later, carrying his tablet like a shield. “I’m already on it,” he said. “Give me an hour.” “How bad is it?” she asked. “Manageable,” he said, voice smooth as glass. “Just noise from Derick’s contacts. He still knows people in finance. I’ll counter it.” Charlotte gave him a sharp look. “You’re saying Derick did this?” Brian shrugged lightly. “Who else could trigger this many freezes at once? He definitely released something or said something to someone.” Petrina’s jaw clenched. “Then he really is trying to destroy me.” Brian placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Let me handle it. You focus on keeping the team motivated.” Charlotte’s eyes flicked to the hand, then back to Petrina. “Motivation won’t pay suppliers,” she muttered. Petrina ignored her. “Thank you, Brian. Just…please fix it.” “I will,” he said. “Trust me.” Charlotte watched him leave, then turned to Petrina. “Something about that man scares me.” “Charlotte, please,” Petrina whispered. “He’s all I have right now.” Charlotte hesitated. “Then I hope he’s really on your side.”Latest Chapter
Chapter 167: Cut The Link With Kendi!!!
Bypassing Mayfair, the engine noise from the African scrubland cut out for a second, replaced by the hollow, metallic groan of a chassis being twisted to its absolute limit. In the quiet cab of the saloon, the sound was intimate, almost suffocating."She's bottoming out," Jackson whispered. His eyes remained locked on the telemetry. "The terrain profile doesn't match the satellite imagery Westbrook submitted to the high court. They logged this entire quadrant as a desertification zone.""Because dry land carries no ecological indemnity," Derick said. He guided the silver saloon into the shadow of the Palace of Westminster. The gothic spires looked black against the bruising sky. "If there’s no water on the books, there's no crime in poisoning it with the runoff from the gold tailings. It’s perfect corporate arithmetic."On the dashboard console, Kendi’s voice returned, tighter now, punctuated by the sharp crack of an overstressed leaf spring."Derick? If you're receiving this, the loc
Chapter 166: Bypassing Mayfair
The rain on Grosvenor Square had turned into a fine, isotropic mist by the time the silver saloon cleared the security barrier, its tires spitting grit against the brickwork of the embassy lane. Derick kept the headlights dipped. London was waking up in fragments—milk floats, the first red double-deckers grinding toward Marble Arch, and the pale, sodium glow of streetlamps reflecting off windows that had been dark since the Blitz. Beside him, Jackson didn't move. The laptop screen was a pale blue mask across his face, throwing the hollows of his cheeks into sharp relief. His thumbs remained hooked over the chassis, frozen in the posture of a man who had spent three hours defusing a bomb only to realize he was still holding the detonator. "The London mirror just dropped six packets," Jackson said. His voice was flat, drained of the adrenaline that had carried them through the basement descent. "Some kind of deep-packet inspection. It’s not the compliance committee. It’s too fast for
Chapter 165: The Public Server
The wet asphalt of Grosvenor Square dissolved behind them as Jackson stepped into the waiting elevator, his fingers already hammering at the glass screen of his tablet. The lift hummed, a low-frequency vibration that rattled the brass handrails as they began their descent toward the underground parking level."The regional office in Mombasa just flagged Vance’s credentials," Jackson said, his eyes reflecting the sharp blue glare of the interface. "The automated system picked up the concurrent login from London. We have exactly four minutes before the security protocol locks the session and forces a manual override.""Then don't format the text from scratch," Derick said, his voice cutting through the mechanical hum of the elevator. "Pull the pre-cached Markdown files from the staging server. Strip the metadata, bypass the regional translation layer, and dump the raw Appendix C directly into the root directory. If the ministries want to read it, they can use Google Translate.""That le
Chapter 164: Mombasa
Jackson’s fingers flew across the tablet screen, the blue light casting sharp, angular shadows over his face. "The upload protocol requires three separate administrative keys, Derick. I have mine, and you have yours. But we need a proxy signature from the regional operations office in Mombasa to bypass the standard forty-eight-hour quarantine.""Use Vance’s credentials," Derick said without turning from the window. Below, a black Mercedes sedan slid smoothly away from the curb, its taillights bleeding red streaks across the wet asphalt. Westbrook’s exit. "He left his token active on the secure subnet when he rushed out. He was too busy hiding his pen to clear his cache.""That’s a compliance violation. If the board audits the keystrokes—""If we don't have the text on the public server by midnight, there won't be a board left to audit us," Derick interrupted. His voice was level, stripped of the adrenaline that usually followed a boardroom coup. He reached into his pocket, his fingers
Chapter 163: Grosvenor Square
The door of the boardroom clicked closed with a heavy, pressurized sigh that seemed to vacuum the remaining oxygen from the room. Westbrook was the first out, his briefcase gripped so tightly his knuckles showed white through his artificial tan. Vance trailed him like a shadow detached from its owner, still frantically pocketing his pen.Derick remained in his chair, his hands flat against the cool, ancient oak of the shipyard table. The room emptied in ripples until only he, Jackson, and Haraldsen remained. The Chairman was slow in his movements now, the sudden authority he had wielded during the roll call dissolving back into the tired posture of an aging bureaucrat.With a deliberate, mechanical precision, Haraldsen reached into his breast pocket. He did not pull out a phone or a pair of spectacles. Instead, he withdrew a small, tarnished silver object and set it gently on the brass plate where his gavel had rested moments before.It was an antique water meter key, its T-bar worn s
Chapter 162: The Noon Division
The street outside the Connaught felt like a cold slate wiped clean by the drizzle. Derick walked fast, his coat unbuttoned, letting the damp London air cut through the lingering heat of the dining room. Jackson kept half a pace behind him, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the wet pavement of Carlos Place."Westbrook’s going to whip the second-tier directors," Jackson said, his voice low as they rounded the corner toward Grosvenor Square. "He’s already calling Henderson and Vance. If he loses Haraldsen on the audit trigger, he’ll try to choke the funding at the committee stage.""Let him call them," Derick said. "Henderson moves with the tide. Vance moves with Henderson. If Haraldsen votes to publish, the center holds.""And if Haraldsen’s nod was just courtesy?" Jackson asked. "He’s a statistician, Derick. He likes the weight of an argument, but he lives in the shadow of the regulatory board. He knows exactly how much noise an extraordinary audit makes."Derick stopped at the
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