Novel-novel oleh HG

For several seconds… No one moved. Silence filled the apartment like smoke after an explosion. Heavy. Suffocating. Impossible to ignore.Ethan was the first to speak.“…What the hell was that?”Serena didn’t answer because Serena Blake who always had words, always had clarity, always had control had none.Vivienne’s voice echoed inside her mind with surgical precision.You’re not outside the system.You’re a corrective mechanism.No. No. That was manipulation. Classic destabilization strategy. Psychological framing.She knew these tactics. She had used softer versions of them herself but knowing a weapon existed didn’t stop it from cutting.Ethan stepped closer.“Serena.”Still no response.He touched her arm gently. She flinched not from him but from thought. That single reaction sent a flash of fear across Ethan’s face. Not fear of danger but fear of distance.“Talk to me,” he said quietly.Serena inhaled slowly. Too slowly like someone manually remembering how breathing worked.“Sh

The air inside the apartment changed. Not with movement, but with meaning. Serena stared at Vivienne Cross, not shocked. Not frozen. But intensely, dangerously alert. Because predators recognized predators. And Vivienne was not improvising.She was executing.“For the next phase?” Serena repeated.Voice low.Deadly calm.Vivienne’s smile was almost affectionate.“Yes.”Ethan stepped closer to Serena, instinctively protective despite the bruises darkening his skin.Serena noticed.Vivienne noticed more.“Fascinating,” Vivienne murmured.Serena’s eyes narrowed.“What is?”Vivienne gestured vaguely between them.“Attachment.”Serena’s patience thinned instantly.“Stop speaking in riddles.”Vivienne’s gaze sharpened.“Very well.”She stepped forward, heels whispering softly against the floor, posture relaxed in a way that screamed absolute control.“Eastwood,” she began, “isn’t the objective.”Serena’s jaw tightened.“I already know that.”“Yes,” Vivienne replied smoothly.“You’re the rea

Serena had never run this fast in her life. Not during corporate crises. Not during scandals. Not even during the worst moments of her past because this wasn’t career. This wasn’t reputation. This was Ethan.Her mind was terrifyingly clear. No panic. No spiraling thoughts. Only calculation. Distance. Time. Probability.Every traffic light became an obstacle. Every pedestrian, a delay. Every second, an accusation. Too slow. Too slow. Too slow.By the time she reached the building, adrenaline had sharpened her senses into something feral. Wrong. Something was wrong.The lobby guard was missing. The desk unattended. The silence unnatural. Serena didn’t hesitate. She sprinted toward the elevator, then stopped.No indicator lights. Disabled. Of course.“Stairs,” she whispered.And ran three floors. Five. Ten. Her lungs burned, but Serena barely noticed. Fear was now fuel.When she reached Ethan’s floor, the hallway lights flickered. Not malfunctioning. Controlled. Serena knew the differenc

Fear was contagious. Serena watched it spread across the boardroom with quiet, clinical awareness. Executives who once dismissed her concerns now leaned forward.Attentive. Rigid. Unsettled. Because the difference between paranoia and reality was evidence. And Serena had delivered reality.“This doesn’t make sense,” the chairwoman said, voice tight. “Why manipulate Eastwood from the shadows?”Serena’s answer was immediate.“Because influence is stronger when no one sees it.”Silence. Heavy. Uncomfortable. True.Adrian was still staring at the documents like they might rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.“These investment channels…” he muttered. “They’re intertwined with half our expansion funding.”“Yes.”“That means...”“You were never fully steering this project.”The words landed hard because Serena wasn’t speculating. She was describing architecture.A board member’s voice cut through the tension.“Who is he?”Serena’s gaze lifted slowly. Measured. Deliberate.“I

Rage, Serena had learned long ago, was useless unless disciplined.By the time she left Eastwood, her anger had already transformed into something far more effective. Strategy.Most people misunderstood power. They thought it lived in authority, money, titles, headlines.Serena knew better. Power lived in information. And whoever was attacking her had just exposed something critical: They were afraid of something.Back at her apartment, Ethan was pacing.“This is insane, Serena. Someone is following me?”“Yes.”“And you’re saying this like it’s normal!”“It’s not normal,” Serena replied calmly. “It’s leverage-building.”He stared at her. “Leverage for what?”Serena’s gaze was razor sharp.“To move me.”She opened her laptop. Not to check the news. Not to react. To hunt. But not for the attacker. For the pattern. Because operations like this always left fingerprints not emotional ones, but structural ones.Who benefited? Who gained advantage from destabilizing her position? Who needed

Serena knew the difference immediately. Professional pressure was clean. Structured. Predictable. Real pressure was personal. And it arrived at 7:12 a.m.Ethan’s voice carried from the living room.“Serena…”There was something wrong with the way he said her name. Not panic. Confusion. Serena stepped out of the bedroom, still fastening her watch and froze.The screen. News channels. Financial feeds. Industry blogs. All running the same headline.Conflict of Interest Allegations Surround Eastwood ConsultantHer name sat beneath it. Bold. Centered. Deliberate.For a moment, the world did something strange. It went silent. Not externally, the television was loud, Ethan was speaking, traffic hummed outside but internally. The kind of silence that precedes impact. Serena walked closer. Read. Analyzed. Dissected.Old advisory connections reframed as hidden alliances. Past professional relationships twisted into implied influence networks. Perfectly legal history rearranged into suspicious c