The True Architect

Brielle's POV

The destruction was complete. It was filed, sealed, and already hitting the German papers. The Leda Foundation, that tiny, sentimental piece of my mother's memory, was publicly designated as fiscally insolvent due to the need to settle Julliard debts. The money was negligible, but the message was a cannonball. We had targeted the last piece of good left in my father's world, and we had burned it to the ground. God help me.

I was sitting in Richter's office, watching the final digital signature appear on the dissolution forms. My fingers felt cold and strangely light. It was as if they had just committed a major physical exertion.

Richter glanced at the screen, then at me. His own career was saved by the chaos of the Steinmetz counter-smear—my ugly, brutal strategy. He was still fighting the ethics review, but the urgency was gone. I had bought him the time and the leverage he needed.

“You have the heart for this, Ms. Julliard,” he murmured, the dark compliment landing he