Chapter 65

POV: Liam

​The Sterling boardroom didn't feel like a room anymore; it felt like a pressure cooker. The air was thick with the smell of ozone and the desperate, metallic tang of an empire in its death throes. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, my back to the directors, watching the rain wash over the Manhattan skyline. Below us, the city was a blur of lights and movement, indifferent to the fact that the man who had helped build its skyline was about to be officially executed by his own board.

​"The time for silence is over, Liam," Director Vance said, his voice echoing in the hollow space. "The market has opened. We’ve lost another four percent in pre-market trading. The 'Independence Order' has made us a laughingstock. Investors don't want to hear about 'personhood'—they want to hear about asset security."

​I turned around, my eyes scanning the faces of the twelve people who held my career in their hands. They looked like a jury that had already reached a verdict. Eleanor was there, of course, sitting at the far end of the table. She wasn't participating in the shouting; she was simply watching me, a predator waiting for its prey to stop twitching.

​"The 'asset' is my wife," I said, my voice sounding like it had been dragged through broken glass. "And she isn't a laughingstock. She’s the whistleblower who just saved this board from a fifty-year prison sentence. If you follow Eleanor’s lead and move for a 'Voluntary Reclamation,' you are admitting to the world that Sterling-Vane is a criminal enterprise that kidnaps its own shareholders."

​"We aren't kidnapping anyone," Halloway interrupted, his voice sounding tired. "We are providing medical intervention for a primary subject who is currently undergoing a biological crisis. The files Sarah Jenkins submitted this morning are undeniable, Liam. The core is overheating. If we don't bring her back to the lab, she dies."

​"She dies because Eleanor is throttling the coolant!" I shouted, the frustration finally snapping my professional mask. I slammed the thumb drive I’d been clutching onto the mahogany table. "The data is right there, Thomas. The command to overheat the core didn't come from a malfunction. It came from the Vane estate. It came from the Master Key Eleanor stole."

​Eleanor didn't flinch. She simply leaned forward, the light from the monitors reflecting in her cold, dark eyes. "A Master Key that Liam also possesses," she said, her voice a silk-wrapped blade. "Who is to say that the CEO didn't trigger the crisis himself to force the board's hand? He’s the one who stands to gain the most from a 'rescue' narrative. He wants to be the knight in shining armor so Isabella will drop the fraud charges against his father’s estate."

​The room erupted into a chorus of accusations.

​"Is that true, Liam?"

"Were you in the system at 2:00 AM?"

"Did you bypass the security protocols?"

​"I was in the system to save her!" I roared over the noise. "I used the mirror key to slow the degradation, but the system locked me out. It’s a Sovereignty Protocol. The only person who can stop the purge is someone with physical access to the Vane Private Cloud."

​"Which we are currently attempting to secure," Eleanor said, looking at the board. "But we cannot secure the system if the subject remains in a hotel room with a signal jammer. We need her in the clinic. Now. I move for an immediate Proxy Vote to authorize the security detachment to execute the medical warrant."

​"I object," I said, my heart thumping against my ribs. "I hold the majority proxy for the Sterling family block. You can't pass a motion of this magnitude without my signature."

​Eleanor smiled. It was a slow, terrifying expression of triumph. "Actually, Liam, the bylaws state that in the event of a 'Conflict of Interest' finding by the Ethics Committee, the CEO’s proxy is temporarily transferred to the Lead Director. And since Halloway just signed off on the conflict report ten minutes ago..."

​I looked at Halloway. He wouldn't meet my eyes. He was staring at the table, his hands shaking.

​"Thomas?" I whispered. "You told me you’d stand with me."

​"I’m standing with the company, Liam," Halloway said, his voice a ghost of its former self. "The lawyers told me that if I didn't sign the report, the DOJ would name the entire board as co-conspirators in the 2018 bypass. I have a family. I have a legacy to think about."

​"And what about Isabella’s life?"

​"We are saving her life by bringing her back!" Halloway snapped, his face turning a mottled red. "The vote is called. All in favor of the Medical Reclamation?"

​One by one, the hands went up. It was a silent, rhythmic betrayal. They weren't voting for Eleanor; they were voting for their own survival, for their offshore accounts and their penthouses. They were sacrificing the girl to save the machine.

​"The motion carries," the secretary said. "The security team has been dispatched to the hotel."

​I didn't wait for the meeting to be adjourned. I turned and bolted for the door. I could hear Eleanor’s laughter behind me, a low, sharp sound that followed me into the hallway.

​"You’re too late, Liam!" she called out. "She’s already being moved!"

​I didn't go to the elevators. I knew the security teams would have locked them down. I ran for the fire stairs, my lungs burning, my mind a frantic scramble of calculations. I had twenty minutes to get to that hotel. Twenty minutes to stop them from turning the woman I loved back into a piece of property.

​I reached the lobby and burst through the doors, ignoring the security guards who tried to block my path. I didn't take my car; I grabbed a bicycle from a delivery rack and pedaled into the rain, weaving through the gridlocked traffic of Midtown.

​My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a message from Marcus.

​THEY’RE IN THE ROOM, LIAM. CHLOE OPENED THE DOOR. THE SCANNER IS LIVE. THEY’RE NOT JUST TAKING HER—THEY’RE UPLOADING THE BIOMETRIC LOGS TO THE COURT PORTAL RIGHT NOW. THEY’RE PROVING SHE’S UNSTABLE IN FRONT OF A LIVE AUDIENCE.

​"No," I gasped, the cold rain stinging my eyes.

​I turned the corner onto the street where the hotel was located. I could see the black SUVs, the flash of the light bars, the crowd of reporters already gathering like vultures around a carcass.

​I ditched the bike and ran for the entrance, but I was tackled by two men in tactical gear before I could reach the revolving doors.

​"Mr. Sterling, stay back!" one of them shouted. "This is a medical emergency!"

​"Let me go!" I fought them, my boots slipping on the wet pavement. "She’s my wife! You don't have the right!"

​"We have a board-certified warrant, sir. Move back or you’ll be arrested for obstruction."

​I looked up just as the doors opened.

​Isabella was being wheeled out. She was strapped into a medical chair, her face pale, her eyes wide with a terror that made my heart shatter. She wasn't fighting. She looked like she had already given up.

​Behind her walked Chloe, holding a tablet, her face a mask of professional "concern" that didn't reach her eyes. And behind Chloe was Sarah Jenkins, looking at her watch.

​"Isabella!" I screamed, my voice cracking.

​She looked at me. For a fleeting second, our eyes locked. I saw the question in her gaze—the "Why did you leave me?" that I had no answer for.

​Then the guards shoved her into the back of the sedan. The doors slammed shut. The motor roared to life.

​I slumped against the side of the hotel building, the rain soaking through my suit, my breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps. I had lost the proxy fight. I had lost the board. And as the taillights of the sedan disappeared into the grey Manhattan fog, I realized I had lost the only thing that had ever made the tower worth building.

​The cliffhanger wasn't her disappearance; it was the notification that flashed on my phone a second later. It wasn't from Marcus. It was from the court portal.

​Subject: Case 4492-B. Independence Order Rescinded. Hearing for Permanent Conservatorship set for 9:00 AM tomorrow.

​Eleanor hadn't just taken her back. She had used the "interview" to prove that Isabella was a danger to herself. The war was no longer about money or medicine. It was about the legal ownership of a human soul.

​And as I looked at the dark windows of the hotel, I realized there was only one move left to make. A move that would destroy the Sterling name forever, but might just save the girl.

​