Predictable. Loud. A little desperate.By morning, the backlash had a brand. A coalition of Alpha houses—old money, older egos—announced the "Stability Charter," a polished document that basically said: we're not doing this. Press briefings. Closed-door votes. Threats wrapped in tradition.Inside the strategy room, feeds rolled. Statement after statement, endorsement after endorsement, thinly veiled ultimatums delivered in the measured tones of men who had never been told no.Dante skimmed them once, then tossed the tablet onto the table. "They're trying to frame this as economic risk.""Of course they are." Luna stood by the windows, her back to the room. "Fear sells better than fairness."Observers from the Royal Oversight Directorate filed in, taking their seats along the wall. Calm. Clinical. This wasn't a street fight anymore. It was compliance theatre.Kael stood off to the side, arms crossed, jaw tight. "Som
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