CHAPTER 28

The Sterling boardroom is a battleground of optics.

I stand at the head of the table, my hands flat on the mahogany. The surface is cold. The air is heavy with the scent of expensive coffee and the metallic tang of fear. Across from me, the board members are silhouettes against the city lights, their faces illuminated only by the glow of their tablets.

"Reputation is a lagging indicator," I say. My voice is steady, a tool of absolute control. "The market is reacting to a ghost story. Isabella is not an 'experiment.' She is the Chair of the Vane Trust. That is the only fact that matters for the opening bell."

"The photos, Liam," Sarah says. She taps her screen. The ultrasound image—the one of the fetus in the containment unit—flickers onto the wall. "This isn't a ghost story. This is a PR nuclear strike. The ethics committees are already filing for a stay on the merger. They’re calling it 'human rights tampering.'"

"Human rights require a human," a director at the far end murmurs.

I look at him. My eyes are ice. "Say that again."

He looks away.

"The Vane-Sterling entity is a consolidated structure," I say. "If we flinch now, we prove the narrative. We need to stay aggressive. We file a cease-and-desist on the leaks and prepare a defamation suit against the hosting servers."

"And Arthur?" Sarah asks. "He’s on every network. He’s crying, Liam. He’s the 'victim' of a mad scientist wife. He’s offering a public reconciliation. He wants to 'bring Isabella home for treatment.'"

"It’s a containment play," I say. "He wants to neutralize her vote. If she’s deemed medically unfit or a 'biological liability,' the trust defaults to him."

"But the public loves it," Miller says. "The 'Family First' angle is the only thing stabilizing the Vane stock. If we oppose the reconciliation, we look like the villains. We look like we’re holding her hostage for her DNA."

I turn to the window. The city is a grid of light. Somewhere out there, Isabella is fighting a truth that would break a lesser person. I can still feel the heat of the bridge explosion. I can still feel the way her hand felt—the source of all the power and the ruin in this room.

I have to choose.

If I protect Isabella, I lose the board. If I save the company, I hand her to Arthur.

My phone buzzes. It’s an encrypted line.

Felix: She’s with me. We’re five minutes out. She knows about the blood, Liam. She knows she’s the receiver.

I close my eyes for a second. The variables are shifting too fast.

"Arthur is calling," Sarah says. "He wants to speak to the board. Directly."

"Put him through," I say.

The wall monitor flickers. Arthur Vane appears. He’s in a library. The lighting is soft, warm. He’s wearing a sweater, not a suit. He looks like a father. He looks like a man who hasn't slept in days.

"Liam," Arthur says. His voice is thick with rehearsed emotion. "I know we’ve had our differences. I know the merger has been... contentious. But this is beyond business now. I’ve seen the reports. I’ve seen what Eleanor was doing behind my back."

"You signed the ultrasound, Arthur," I say.

Arthur sighs, a weary sound. "I signed a funding request for a fertility treatment. I had no idea she was using Medusa protocols on our daughter. I am horrified, Liam. My daughter is a victim. She needs help. She needs a family, not a CEO."

"She has a husband," I say.

"A husband who is currently watching his stock price drop because of her," Arthur counters. "Liam, let’s be honest. You can't protect her from the DOJ. But I can. I have the medical exemptions. I have the legacy connections. Let me take her to the Vane Clinic. We’ll do a public reconciliation at the charity gala tomorrow night. We’ll show the world she’s safe. We’ll show them she’s a Vane."

"She’s a Sterling," I say.

"Is she?" Arthur leans forward. "Or is she a patent? Because the DOJ is very interested in the 'Subject 0' classification. If she stays with you, she’s a corporate asset under investigation. If she comes with me, she’s a daughter receiving care."

The board members are nodding. They want the easy way out. They want the 'Family' narrative to bury the 'Experiment' narrative.

"I'll discuss it with my wife," I say.

"Don't wait too long, Liam," Arthur says. "The news cycle moves fast. The 'Designer Daughter' story is about to get a lot uglier."

The screen goes black.

I stand there, the silence of the boardroom ringing in my ears. Arthur is a master of the pivot. He’s turned a biological horror into a political opportunity.

The door to the boardroom opens.

Isabella walks in.

She’s pale, her hair damp from the rain. She’s holding a small, blue velvet box. Behind her, Felix stands like a sentinel.

The board members shrink back. They look at her as if she might vibrate and tear the room apart.

"The reconciliation is a trap," Isabella says. Her voice is a scalpel. "He doesn't want to save me. He wants to harvest the final sequence."

"Isabella," I say, moving toward her. "The photos—"

"I know. I saw them." She looks at the board. "I am not a victim. And I am not a project. I am the Chair of Vane Global. And I am vetoing the reconciliation."

"You can't," Sarah says. "The reputation risk is too high. If you don't appear with Arthur, the DOJ will seize the core."

Isabella looks at me. There is a question in her eyes. A silent, desperate bridge.

Will you choose me? Or the chair?

I look at the board. I look at the market ticker on the wall.

Sterling Tech. -15%

"We aren't going to the gala," I say.

"Liam, you're committing professional suicide," Sarah warns.

"I'm managing the risk," I say. I turn to Isabella. "We aren't going to the gala because we’re going to the Jersey house. Now."

"Why?" Isabella asks.

"Because Arthur isn't the one who sent the video, Isabella," I say. I hold up my phone. I’ve just received the metadata from the file she was sent. "The video of your mother... it wasn't filmed in a Vane facility."

"Where was it filmed?"

I look at the board. I look at the woman in grey, Miller, who has been silent the whole time.

"It was filmed in the sub-basement of this building," I say.

The room goes cold.

Isabella takes a step back.

"Liam," she whispers. "The second emitter. It’s not in the boardroom."

I look at the floor. The low hum I’ve been ignoring—the one I thought was the HVAC system—is changing pitch. It’s becoming a rhythm. A heartbeat.

"The building is the receiver," I say.

Cliffhanger:

My tablet chimes. A new notification from the Sterling Security Grid.

WARNING: STRUCTURAL RESONANCE DETECTED. ESTIMATED TIME TO COLLAPSE: 120 MINUTES.

And beneath it, a message from Eleanor.

The apology was the lure, Liam. The gala was the distraction. But the blood... the blood is the key to the vault. Bring her to the sub-basement, or the tower falls on everyone.

I look at Isabella. I look at the board.

I have two hours to save the empire. Or the girl.

"Felix," I say. "Seal the doors. No one leaves this room."

"Liam, what are you doing?" Sarah screams.

"I'm changing the terms of the merger," I say.

I look at Isabella.

"Give me the slide," I say. "I'm going to finish the sequence."

"And if you do?" she asks.

"Then we won't need an apology," I say. "We'll need a funeral."