Chapter seventeen:《Unveiling the Veiled Mastermind》
Revealing the Hidden Puppeteer
The decrypted hologram flickered between them, casting jagged shadows across the dimly lit study.
Ethan's jaw tightened as he traced the digital threads of evidence—corporate espionage, blackmail, and the unmistakable fingerprints of a betrayal that cut deeper than business.
Violet's fingers brushed the twin egret feather hidden in her bracelet, its silver edges cool against her skin.
*A family's knife,* she thought bitterly.
The USB's revelations weren't just about power; they were about legacy, about wounds that never healed.
Ethan's phone buzzed again, the seventeenth call from his mother glaring accusingly from the screen.
He silenced it with a swipe, his gaze locking onto Violet's.
"The timestamps on that warehouse footage," he said, voice low and urgent.
"They're off by exactly thirteen minutes.
Whoever edited them didn't account for the security cameras' latency.
"
Violet leaned over the holographic map, her mind racing.
"Thirteen minutes… the old shipping yard near the docks," she murmured.
"The abandoned facility there shut down thirteen years ago.
Sentimentality or sloppiness?
" Her lips curved into a razor-sharp smile.
"Either way, it's their mistake.
"
By dawn, they stood in a derelict control room, its walls plastered with faded blueprints and surveillance feeds.
The scent of rust and saltwater seeped through broken windows as Violet cross-referenced data streams on her tablet.
Ethan paced behind her, his tailored coat dusted with grime.
"The pattern matches," he said, tapping a red-lit coordinate.
"Every shell company tied to the organization funnels through this address.
A front for their R&D lab.
"
"Not just R&D.
" Violet's eyes narrowed.
"Look at the energy consumption spikes.
They're hiding something *big* here.
" She pulled out her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.
Within minutes, a chain of encrypted messages lit up her contacts—CEOs, investors, allies she'd cultivated long before Ethan knew her name.
"You're freezing their assets *now*?
" Ethan raised an eyebrow, though admiration flickered beneath his skepticism.
"Why wait?
" She didn't look up, her voice steady.
"A sudden liquidity crisis will force their hand.
And when they scramble to cover their tracks…" She glanced at him, her smile icy.
"…they'll lead us straight to the puppeteer.
"
The financial quake hit by midday.
News outlets splashed headlines about the mysterious collapse of LuxeCorp's offshore accounts, while Violet's allies—a coalition of rival conglomerates and old-money dynasties—publicly severed ties with the shadowy organization.
By dusk, stock prices plummeted, and panicked board members began flipping on their masters.
In the eye of the storm, Ethan found Violet on the rooftop garden of his penthouse, her silhouette framed against the city's glittering skyline.
The wind tugged at her hair, loosening strands from her chignon.
For a moment, he forgot the chaos—the missed calls, the threats, the ticking clock.
He saw only her: the woman who'd dismantled empires before breakfast, who wore her brilliance like armor yet still kept his coffee exactly how he liked it.
"You're terrifying," he said, stepping closer.
She turned, amusement dancing in her eyes.
"You're just realizing this now?
"
"No.
" His hand cupped her cheek, calloused thumb brushing her skin.
"I've always known.
I just…" His voice roughened.
"I never thanked you.
For staying.
For fighting *with* me, not just *for* me.
"
Violet's breath hitched.
The city's noise faded, replaced by the drumbeat of her heart.
"Ethan…"
He kissed her then, deep and desperate, a collision of gratitude and fear and something neither dared name.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as if to anchor them both against the storm.
When they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, he whispered, "Whatever happens next… we finish this together.
"
Midnight found them in the belly of the beast—a subterranean lab beneath the shipping yard, its sterile walls humming with suppressed violence.
The air reeked of ozone and ambition as they cornered their prey: a figure cloaked in shadows, their face obscured by a flickering holographic veil.
"You've made this *personal*," the puppeteer hissed, voice distorted.
"A fatal error.
"
Ethan stepped forward, his stance deceptively casual.
"You targeted my family.
My wife.
Did you really think I'd let that slide?
"
Violet's laugh was a blade unsheathed.
"You underestimated *how* personal we'd make it.
" She tossed a datachip at the figure's feet.
"Every dirty secret, every transaction.
The media's already salivating.
Your empire ends at sunrise.
"
The puppeteer staggered, the veil flickering to reveal a gaunt, furious face—a once-revered tech magnate, now reduced to a snarling ghost.
"You think this is over?
" they spat.
"You think *I* don't have contingencies?
"
A click echoed through the lab.
From the shadows, the puppeteer raised a device—a jagged, obsidian sphere etched with glowing crimson circuits.
The air crackled, pressure dropping as if the room itself held its breath.
Ethan's hand found Violet's, their fingers interlacing.
"What the hell is that?
"
The puppeteer's laughter was a hollow, broken thing.
"A farewell gift.
"
The sphere pulsed.
And the world went white.
*The obsidian device hums to life, its crimson veins throbbing in sync with the frantic rhythm of their hearts.
Somewhere, a countdown begins…*