Chapter 4; Ghost Grid Awakens

(Claire POV)

Four days have passed since I saw Damien Laurent, the man I transformed into a force of nature, looking at me with total indifference while another woman lay in our bed.

That night, I paced the living room, each step fueled by a new wave of resentment.

I keep checking my phone, even though I hate myself for it.

No missed calls, no frantic messages, Damien didn't even try to find me.

To him, I am just a broken appliance, something he will replace once he notices the house is cold and the bills are not being paid.

"An open marriage," I murmur, the bitter words on my tongue. "You expect me to watch you destroy everything we've built and keep smiling for the cameras?"

Anger twists my chest, dull and burning, preventing me from breathing.

I gave up everything for him, my past, my talent, my identity, just to make him the face of Laurent Dynamics.

I worked behind the scenes, resolving all the problems, finalizing all the agreements. And this is how he thanks me: by suggesting I share it with someone else.

I stop in front of the TV, breathless. I want to break something, to hear glass shatter under my hand.

Suddenly, the screen lights up and the voice of a television news anchor interrupts my thoughts.

"In today's technology news, Gabriel Arnaud, CEO of Arnaud Enterprises, announced a major breakthrough in his latest software project..."

I freeze. My eyes are fixed on the screen as the air leaves my lungs.

There he is, Gabriel Arnaud. The man Damien curses every night, his greatest rival.

The only person who ever made Damien feel small, a man who doesn't just win, he dominates.

I approach him, observing him. There is something strange about the way he stands, the tilt of his head, the width of his shoulders.

A memory comes back to me: a dim light, the scent of sandalwood, the hands of a masked man on my waist.

My heart starts to pound, then I chuckle: it's impossible.

Gabriel Arnaud is known for his great discretion; he does not frequent masked balls and does not have anonymous relationships.

He's in control, calculating. I push that thought away and refocus. Damien is afraid of this man; if he has nightmares, they have Gabriel's face.

A slow, calculating smile spreads across my lips. If I want to bring Damien down, I need leverage, and Gabriel Arnaud is the most powerful lever in Paris.

"I can't do this all by myself," I mutter, turning away from the television.

To overthrow a king, you need people who act in the shadows.

I immediately rushed upstairs, adrenaline pushing me forward.

In my room, I head straight to the back of the dressing room, parting the rows of designer clothes until I reach the wooden panel hidden behind it.

I pull a gold necklace out from under my shirt; the heavy pendant fits into a hidden niche in the wall.

A soft click is heard, the panel slides open, revealing a steel door. I enter a twenty-digit code on the keypad. The door then opens with a hiss.

I walk in and the temperature drops instantly. This is my sanctuary; this room is the real reason I bought this apartment years ago. Damien thinks it was so I could relax and be alone.

He is completely unaware that this is the command center of the Phantom Grid, a secret team to which I belong.

I sit down and press a button. The room comes alive: four large screens light up, bathing everything in a cold blue light. I put on my headset and watch the encrypted system start up.

PHANTOM GRID: ONLINE.

For seven years, I put my intelligence at the service of building Damien's empire. I wrote the code that made him a billionaire, while he trained to be its face.

He thinks I'm just a broken woman in hiding; he has no idea who I really am and what I'm capable of.

I sneer darkly: this man despises me so much! I'm going to tear him to pieces and feed him to the wolves.

"The network is operational," I said, my voice now cold and composed. A static crackling sound was heard, then a familiar voice.

"Seven years, Claire," said Antoine, the second member of the team, still in his suit and with his nose in his cigarettes. "We thought you'd left, happily married to Damien Laurent."

I exhale deeply. "That marriage was a huge mistake," I reply angrily. "I shouldn't have left Ghost Grid like that. Damien cheated on me and now he wants an open marriage. I'd rather ruin his career. Is everyone here?"

"Ah, so that bastard cheated on you? I'm in!" exclaims Henri, our public relations expert, the little boy I found on the streets of Paris, honing his skills at odd jobs. "I'd missed having someone worth killing."

“Same here,” adds Antoine, the most dangerous lawyer I’ve ever met, a man capable of turning a contract into a death warrant. “Give me a target. My corporate clients are too boring.”

“Claire, I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. You know I’m here for you,” Jax said. She moves in high society circles, a socialite who overhears everything because she’s considered too pretty to be intelligent. Yet, she’s an intelligence agent and can’t live without banana bread. “My life has been nothing but a succession of champagne and boredom. Give me a target, boss.”

"I haven't heard anything from Lucas," I said.

"Sorry for the silence," Lucas replied, "I'm still available, and if it has anything to do with Damien's destruction, I'm game."

I rub my palms together, filled with deep satisfaction. Lucas, our financial strategist, never liked Damien, and I understand why: he liked me, and I simply couldn't ruin the wonders we could have achieved.

He warned me about him, but I didn't listen. Well, the hatred he feels for Damien might actually work in my favor.

I open Gabriel Arnaud's file, his face filling the entire screen.

"Our target is Gabriel Arnaud, but not as an enemy," I explained. "We're going to infiltrate his company, become indispensable to him. To destroy Damien, I need Gabriel's influence."

"Infiltrate Arnaud?" Henri asked. "It's not easy. He's a real bulwark; he designed half of the encryption system we use to conceal ourselves."

“Every fortress has its weakness, Henri,” I said, my eyes fixed on the green text scrolling across the screen. “And Gabriel’s is named Sophia. His executive secretary, she’s the guardian of the temple; she sees all the contracts, all the emails, all the most intimate thoughts he records on a server. If I want to get close to Gabriel, she has to disappear.”

"You want compromising files on her," Jax said.

"I want her gone," I reply. "I'm sending you the shell company's records. Jax, look at her travel records. Find the scheme, and we'll give it to Gabriel."

For six hours, we worked in silence, falling back into our old routines. The adrenaline surged, sharp and familiar, just like in the good old days. Damien never knew who I was.

"I've found something," Henri said suddenly. "She has a hidden account, with regular deposits, even if they are modest."

"What else?"

"She disclosed minor trade secrets to Damien's company."

“Perfect,” I said. My fingers moved as I set the trap. “Now, we’re not just going to expose her. We’re going to build the narrative. I’m going to hack into her private terminal and backdate some emails. We’re going to make it look like she’s about to sell Gabriel’s new software plan to a Chinese competitor tonight. I want the evidence to look like a desperate, ultimate betrayal. Something he’ll never be able to forgive.”

Antoine whistles. "That's ruthless, Claire."

The others laugh softly, dispelling the tension in the room.

"I don't care," I replied. "I'm glad you know how ruthless I can be to get what I want."

I remember our first meeting: we didn't have an office, so we decided to create our own little world, and it was wonderful. We particularly remember taking down a hacker for a client, which earned us our first millions; Jax immediately changed his wardrobe; Antonie went to a club and bought the outfit after the bouncer hit him on the head; we laughed about it for weeks.

Henri invested and bought himself a yacht frequented by criminals, while Henri treated himself to champagne and sent some to us. Lucas, on the other hand, was content to just have money in his account; that's the most secretive thing.

The only time we were all together was in the club's secret room, our waiter hidden from view. It was a magical moment until I suggested we give each other nicknames and choose outfits; the laughter that followed is still etched in my memory.

"A cape? Oh no, did you bump your head coming in?" asked Antonie.

"She absolutely needs champagne," Jax added, shaking his head.

"And then we need a TV show?" interjected Henri.

I would have loved to experience moments like these when Damien was behaving like a mentally ill person; I'm glad they're still here and that we're in better shape than before.

I begin the hacking. I mimic Sophia's typing speed, her usual typos, and her tone. I use her private passwords, which I cracked in less than three minutes, to write emails containing credible information about Arnaud Enterprises, then I send them to Gabriel's rivals, making it look like Sophia hacked them.

This will be the end of his career. For a moment, I hesitate, then I remember Damien's betrayal.

I clicked on Send.

"It's done, the trap is set," I announced to the Grid. "An anonymous tip is currently being routed through a dozen VPNs. It will land in Gabriel Arnaud's personal email inbox. It's a complete dossier of evidence: surveillance recordings, logs, financial traces. It's damning evidence against Sophia."

"And then what?" Lucas asked.

"I'll apply for her job," I replied. "Soon, Gabriel will fire her, and I'll be the only one who can fix the damage."