Velvet torture device

(financial tycoon's throat slit with custom-made wedding dress)

The Hall of Mirrors at the Grand Palais in Paris has been transformed into a giant stock-exchange terminal, and Violette is standing on a fitting table stacked with short-selling contracts, while the millions of crystals in Zuhair Murad's haute couture wedding gown are refracting the Dow into a blood-colored spectrum. It's her seventh day undercover as Scarlett's royal wedding dress designer, and there's enough carbon fiber noose woven into the wire of the skirt supports to strangle three Wall Street titans.

"Take in two more centimeters at the waistline." Scarlett, with her post-partum pregnant belly, Van Cleef & Arpels diamond belt strung out in blockchain patterns, "to be as breathtaking as the night she shorted the yen." Violette bites off the gold cord, the nanobots on the tip of her tongue sliding smoothly into each other's umbilical rings - the Tiffany sapphire that's sending self-destruct commands to Ethan's pharmaceutical plant.

Suddenly, the fitting mirror reflects a holographic projection of Lucas. He's wearing a Dolce & Gabbana scarlet suit and holding a rose that's actually a brainwave collector: "It's time for the bride to change." When the petals fell to the ground, the New York Stock Exchange suddenly melted down, but those red flowers were actually eternal flowers cultivated from the stem cells of Scarlett's aborted fetus.

Forty-eight hours before the show, Violette adjusted her veil in the Dior workshop. Twenty meters of organza were impregnated with neurotoxins, and each handmade rose hid a micro-syringe. As she sews the last sapphire into the trailing end with Cartier tweezers, Scarlett's daughter's cry suddenly comes over the monitor - the frequency resonating perfectly with the Darknet countdown.

"You missed the crease at the left shoulder blade." Lucas's fingertips traced over the 3D modeling of the wedding dress, the stylus handwriting transforming into an instruction to short Credit Suisse, "There should be a scar here, like the crack in the window sill from your father's fall." Violette backhanded a bead needle into his tiger's mouth, and beads of blood crashed into a champagne glass, activating the sleeping Alpha Dog trading program.

On the day of the show, models stomped out to the Wolf of Wall Street soundtrack. As Scarlett makes her entrance, draped in a veil made of shorting contracts, Violette pushes the quantum entanglement button built into her wedding dress - the price of gold on the London Gold Exchange suddenly plummets, while Swarovski crystals at the hem of her dress are compiling real-time quotes into a death code.

"And now, witness the true Till Death Do Us Part." Scarlett suddenly rips open the bodice of her dress, revealing post-partum scars comprised of Morse code, and the catwalk suddenly cracks open as Ethan emerges on an elevator fused from Lehman Brothers' bankruptcy papers, holding the Nasdaq remote control attached to the wedding dress noose.

Violette enters the ultimate formula left by her father at the console, and the quantum filaments lining the wedding dress suddenly contract, Scarlett's screams resonate with the roar of the Bitcoin miner, and the trailing arcs of the wedding dress project the scene of a murder two decades earlier in the hall of mirrors - Ethan injecting a lethal dose of drugs into her mother's veins, and Scarlett, swaddled in her baby's womb, is the victim. while a swaddled Scarlett giggles in her crib.

"Your revenge algorithm is outdated." Ethan rips the noose and tosses in the bloodstained swaddling clothes - Violette's complete DNA strand is woven into the warp and weft of the fabric - "You've been my hedge since you were born." The dome of the Grand Palais suddenly collapses, and three hundred drones carrying Hermes silk scarves form a ransom note: trade the Federal Reserve vault codes for your daughter's first cry.

Violette rips open her wedding petticoat to reveal a Moody's rating tattoo on her pregnant belly. When Lucas's brain-computer interface hacks the security system, she tosses the hardened veil at the financial moguls - the powerful men who abused her in the women's prison and are now having their throats gnawed by the nanobots in the orgone veil.

"This is the real merger and acquisition." She stepped onto Ethan's chest in her Christian Louboutin red-soled shoes, her wedding gown's fishbone brace stabbing into his pacemaker, "I'm going to open all the testamentary trusts you tampered with, using your heart rate."

Suddenly, the cries of newborns resonate across the globe via quantum satellites.Scarlett's daughter hangs from a gallows made of the Dow Jones, swaddled in a biochip that is compiling Ethan's sins into downloadable memory viruses.The moment Violette cuts the noose, the entire Western stock market melts in synchronization- Those falling K-plots just happened to spell out her father's unfinished bailout program.

When Interpol rushes into the Hall of Mirrors, Violette is waltzing in a pool of blood with her baby girl in her arms.Lucas's smart suit bursts into spontaneous flames, revealing a complete blueprint for vengeance tattooed on his back-every crime scene, from Wall Street to Notre Dame in Paris, is marked with chemical formulas that look like a list of ingredients in a baby's formula.

"Name her Liberty." Violette ties the bloodstained Van Cleef & Arpels necklace around the baby girl's neck, "Just enough code to buy the whole of Manhattan at dawn when the Federal Reserve vault explodes."