The next morning, Jefferson Conglomerate's finance wing was chaos.
Auditors scrambled, legal counsel shouted into phones, and the CFO looked pale as ash. The company's internal portal was flooded with one headline:
"Elaris Luxe Declares Jefferson Oversight Illegal – Files Restraining Order"
Elsa stood at the heart of it, composed in a black silk pantsuit, her presence more commanding than ever.
This wasn't the same woman who had walked out of that boardroom yesterday.
She had opened the envelope.
She had read the note.
And now, she had moved her first piece.
"Call a press briefing," she told her assistant, Vera. "I'll be speaking in thirty minutes."
"But... the lawyers—"
"Let them watch."
Thirty Minutes Later — JTV News Livestream
The cameras rolled as Elsa stood before a forest of microphones.
"To those watching," she began, "you may have heard that my oversight of Elaris Luxe was revoked yesterday. Today, they filed an injunction against Jefferson Conglomerate itself."
She paused, letting the murmurs build.
"But what you haven't heard... is that Elaris Luxe was never compromised. In fact, they reported their highest quarterly gains just last week. So the question isn't about incompetence — it's about interference."
Click. Click. Cameras fired off.
"I've authorized a full investigation into the manipulation of Elaris Luxe's analytics — and early signs point to forged risk reports and altered financial audits."
That hit hard.
"Those involved will be held accountable. No matter how deep they're buried in this company."
Somewhere downtown, in a high-rise office lined with glass and wine shelves, Vin Aldreth slowly set down his tumbler of scotch.
His face twitched.
"Too fast," he muttered.
"She wasn't supposed to rebound yet."
Soraya, seated nearby, gave a lazy shrug. "You said she was fragile."
"She was."
He turned toward his laptop, where the live feed from Jefferson Tower's cameras had just gone dark.
"What happened to the feed?" he barked.
Soraya stood, her expression suddenly alert. "That's not a glitch."
Chess Golding, meanwhile, stood quietly in the data core room of an anonymous tech firm on the outskirts of Nova Dominion.
He slipped a hard drive back into his jacket.
A sleeping guard snored in the corner, blissfully unaware of the digital carnage occurring around him.
"Vin Aldreth's entire financial ecosystem," Lance said through the earpiece, "has been infected with a self-replicating ghost script. We now have full access to his shell corporations, hidden accounts, and encrypted contacts."
Chess didn't smile. He never smiled.
"I want his own data used to bankrupt him. Quietly. Methodically."
"Yes, sir."
"And Lance…"
"Yes?"
"Let him feel safe for a little longer."
Back at Jefferson Tower, Elsa watched the final flash of cameras fade.
She turned and walked down the corridor, only to pause.
Standing near the elevator was a young janitor pushing a mop bucket. Too clean. Too focused.
He didn't speak, didn't look at her. But as she passed, she noticed:
A small dragon emblem stitched into the corner of his glove.
She blinked.
When she turned again — he was gone.
Later that night
In a penthouse above the city, Chess stared out into the skyline.
Elsa's press conference replayed on his tablet.
"She's adapting," Lance commented. "Faster than expected."
Chess finally spoke.
"That's because pain wakes people up faster than love ever could."
He closed the screen.
And whispered to no one in particular:
"Now let's see how far she's willing to go."