Lucian stood in his private study, the sunlight reflecting off the polished obsidian of his desk.
He was reviewing the overnight intelligence reports projected onto the glass wall—a series of data that tracked the slow-motion collapse of Anna Berto's influence.
Two shipments of heavy machinery had been frozen at the docks. One major political ally had issued a press release distancing themselves from 'recent South District irregularities' as it was recorded.
But as Lucian swiped through the logs, his eyes narrowed. Anna Berto had gone quiet.
She hadn't retaliated. There were no public outcries, no legal challenges to the account freezes, no desperate attempts to reach the Board. In Lucian's experience, silence from a cornered predator wasn't a sign of surrender but a sign of calculation.
It was most likely that Anna wasn't screaming because she was busy looking for a different throat to tear out.
