The courthouse was a monolith of glass and stone that morning, its reflective face turning the pale winter light into a cold blaze. Evelyn stepped out of the car with Noah and Hana flanking her, Alexander close behind. They moved in step, not speaking, their breaths clouding in the frigid air. Celeste had arrived earlier through a side entrance to avoid the press, but Claudia had made no such effort.
Across the wide steps, Claudia Drake stood beneath the cameras with her counsel at either side. She wore black, severe and gleaming in the light, a deliberate contrast to the neutral slate Evelyn had chosen. She was speaking with a measured cadence, her words crafted for the news cycle. Evelyn could not hear them through the wall of microphones, but she could imagine the script: fairness, tradition, stability—words bent until they no longer resembled their true shapes.
The war room was silent except for the hum of the screens when Mason arrived with the latest intelligence. His coat was still damp from the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead, but his voice was sharp and steady.“Claudia is already moving,” he said. “Our contact in Geneva confirmed that she secured a flight to Lyon for tomorrow morning. She is going to meet Gerard in person.”Evelyn straightened in her chair. “Then we have less than twenty-four hours. If she gets to him first, she will walk away with a story she can frame however she wants.”Hana pushed her tablet across the table. “I pulled everything on Gerard. He retired twenty years ago. He was a court archivist with access to sealed records. He has a reputation for memory sharper than paper. If Claudia convinces him to t
The winter air over Seoul was brittle the next morning, sharp enough to sting as Evelyn crossed the plaza toward Drake Tower. The interview had run across global channels overnight. Investors were calmer, messages of support flowed in, and for the first time in weeks she felt the ground under her feet was less fragile. Yet the call from Hana still echoed in her ears. Claudia was planning something new, something she called a weapon.Inside the war room, Noah had already filled the screens with charts and timelines. Hana sat with her tablet, scanning streams of encrypted traffic. Alexander stood by the window, silent, watching the river as if answers might rise from its steel-gray surface.Evelyn joined them, her voice steady. “We need to know what Claudia meant. She failed with the first article, but she will not stop there. If she has something sharper, we c
The following morning dawned clear, the air sharp with cold. Evelyn arrived at Celeste’s estate dressed in a dark suit that fit like armor. She carried no notes. Hana had prepared briefs and charts, but Evelyn knew she could not rely on paper. The words had to come from her, steady and precise.The interview had been arranged with a respected financial journal, the kind that dealt in sober language rather than sensationalism. The Seoul bureau chief, a woman named Min-ji, was already waiting in the drawing room. She stood when Celeste entered, bowing slightly with professional respect, then turned to Evelyn with equal courtesy.“Thank you for granting this,” Min-ji said. “The recent reports have created unease among investors. Your voice will carry weight.”Celeste gestured for everyone to sit.
The morning broke with a bitter wind that rattled the glass walls of Drake Tower. Evelyn arrived before most of her staff, her coat still damp from the sleet outside. She set her bag on the desk, powered her monitor, and immediately saw the headline glowing across the news wires.The Shadows of the Drake Legacy.Her stomach tightened. She clicked the article and scanned the lines. The journalist Claudia had dined with in Geneva had moved quickly. The piece described early shipping ventures that blurred the lines between trade and smuggling. It suggested that family wealth had once leaned on deals with figures who thrived in war and scarcity. No proof, only references to “archival whispers” and “oral accounts,” yet written with authority that made hesitation feel like truth.
The morning after Hana’s warning, Evelyn entered the war room with a heaviness that clung to her shoulders. The screens glowed with charts and messages, but her focus was on the faces waiting inside. Noah sat with a notebook open in front of him. Hana hovered near the display wall, her tablet already streaming updates. Alexander stood near the window, his posture calm but his gaze sharp.Evelyn spoke first. “Claudia is not done. She is building a case rooted in history. She is trying to paint us as unworthy not because of what we are doing now, but because of what was done before.”Noah leaned back in his chair. “Dynasty attacks. They are not new. She is hoping the stain of the past will cling to the present. Investors do not like uncertainty. If she makes the company look like it is built on lies, they will hesitate again.”
The studio lights had cooled, but the echo of the interview still lingered in Evelyn’s bones. Investors had responded with cautious approval. Funds that had hesitated now shifted toward stability again. For a few days, the company felt steadier. Yet Evelyn knew that Claudia would not remain still. Silence was not surrender. It was the pause before another strike.Three mornings later, Hana arrived in the war room with her tablet and a face that carried no ease. “We intercepted another transmission,” she said. “It did not go to a journalist or a fund. It went to a private historian in London. Someone who specializes in industrial dynasties. The subject line was simple: Drake origins.”Evelyn frowned. “She is digging for history now?”Hana nodded. “The message contained a list