– Broken Lines

The boardroom was too quiet.

Twelve seats occupied. One empty chair at the far end—Frances's. Her absence was a message, but Lucas wasn't here to decode her. Not today.

Today was for Gideon Ren.

Lucas sat at the head of the table, calm, black suit crisp, hands folded in front of him. Rhea stood to his right, her expression carved from stone. Ethan flanked the projector setup. ATHENA monitored the room from the wall panel, her presence silent but absolute.

"Mr. Ren," Lucas began, voice even, "you've worked here how long?"

Gideon cleared his throat. "Eighteen months."

"And you were assigned to my father's strategic forecasting team before transitioning to internal ops?"

Gideon nodded, smiling stiffly. "That's correct."

Lucas tapped the table once.

The lights dimmed slightly. A feed appeared on the screen: time-stamped communication logs, metadata tags, file transfer routes. All roads led to Gideon's terminal.

Lucas didn't need to raise his voice.

"These are internal financial summaries routed through a ghost server registered under a shell media company connected to Frances Luo's trust."

Gideon's face drained of color.

"I've cross-referenced timestamps with your security badge. Your prints. And your private comms."

The screen changed again—showing a single message, short and damning:

"Push this out before the board meets—he's too calm."

The silence crackled.

Lucas tilted his head slightly. "Still want to call this a misunderstanding?"

Gideon opened his mouth, but no sound came.

"Breathe slower," ATHENA murmured in Lucas's ear. "You have full room control. He's looking for a crack. Don't give him one."

Lucas nodded once.

"I'm not here to embarrass you, Mr. Ren. But I will remove you. Effective immediately. You're being escorted from the tower. Your access is revoked. And if I find out this leak extends further, I'll be filing criminal charges."

Gideon's chair scraped the floor as he stood, face red, mouth tight.

"I was loyal to your father," he hissed. "Not whatever this act is."

Lucas stood too, but he didn't raise his voice.

"You were loyal to his absence. Not his presence. That's why you never made it into the room."

Gideon stiffened. Then left without another word.

Rhea didn't speak until the door shut behind him.

"That went cleaner than I expected."

Lucas sat again. "He was the warning. Someone else is the threat."

ATHENA's voice returned, quiet and measured.

"He was receiving. But not initiating. Someone fed him. There's another link."

"Can you trace it?"

"Not yet. But the pattern is old. Like it predates your father's last encryption protocols."

Lucas looked up sharply. "You're saying it started with Cyrus?"

"Possibly. Or someone he trusted. Someone still inside."

Rhea looked at Lucas, tension creeping back into her eyes. "We thought we were mopping up Frances's damage."

Lucas stood again, eyes locked on the window. "We're not."

"We're inheriting his war."

Rhea looked at Lucas, tension creeping back into her eyes. "We thought we were mopping up Frances's damage."

Lucas didn't answer right away.

He stood still, eyes focused on the glass, watching the city blink and breathe.

"No," he said. "We've been playing inside a script she wants us to follow. Frances makes noise so we burn time. She's not fighting for power."

Rhea frowned. "Then what?"

Lucas turned slowly, voice low and clear.

"She's buying time to find something she lost. Or destroy something my father left."

Rhea blinked. "You think she's digging?"

"I think she's scared," he said, "but not of me. Of whatever Cyrus buried."

"Confirmed," ATHENA cut in. "Frances's financial movement is non-aggressive. Her capital is fluid, not anchored. She's in survival mode, not expansion. But… she is funding three off-record intel units through proxies."

Lucas folded his arms.

"Give me three responses," he said. "Fast."

"Option one: freeze her liquidity with a compliance audit. High visibility. Risks board interference.Option two: mirror her leak method—plant a controlled misdirection and observe who she sends to investigate.Option three: ignore her. Focus forward. Build so fast she can't catch up."

Lucas weighed the silence.

Then: "We plant misdirection. I want to see what she reacts to. Feed her something personal—but fake."

"Understood. Fabricated lead will be ready in two hours."

Rhea watched him, slower now. "You're getting sharp."

Lucas looked down at the glass table. "No. I'm just done reacting."

He was about to speak again when Ethan's voice crackled over the comms.

"Lucas—update from Ms. Jin. Basketball team contract cleared legal. It's yours."

Lucas smiled—small, but real.

Rhea raised an eyebrow. "You actually went through with that?"

"I said I would."

"You just bought a failing legacy team in the middle of a corporate knife fight."

"Exactly," Lucas said. "And now I own something that plays to a crowd. With the right media, the right sponsor, and the right story, I won't just be a CEO."

He stepped around the conference table, energy sharp, pace deliberate.

"I'll be visible. Unavoidable. Not just a name behind a tower—an identity people associate with ambition, competition, and control."

Rhea followed his movement, her arms folding. "You're turning the team into your PR platform."

"I'm turning it into a weapon," Lucas said. "Basketball is loyalty. Tribal. Emotional. It gives people a reason to root—even if they don't understand the business behind it."

"Aggressive play," ATHENA said approvingly. "Suggest initiating crossover media narrative. I've identified six reporters and two lifestyle influencers who can prime the shift from 'inheritor' to 'visionary.'"

Lucas looked to the wall screen. "Send invites. Game launch party. New merch line. Give them a 'Lucas Pan Era' headline they can't resist."

"Targeted messaging prepared. Estimated shift in public sentiment: +14% with successful debut."

Rhea gave a crooked smile. "Frances won't see this coming."

"She doesn't need to," Lucas said. "By the time she reacts, I'll be three steps ahead. I'm done trying to survive her attacks."

He picked up his phone, scrolling until he reached a private contact buried in the PR archive.

"She's still got influence. But I've got attention. And the second you own people's attention, you can do anything."

He hit call.

Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Who are you calling?"

Lucas smiled. "The network sponsor who dropped her two years ago. I'm about to give him a comeback story."

Lucas gave her a faint grin as the call rang. "My favorite person."

"That's not an answer."

"He's a college friend. Used to handle press for rising stars in college ball—now he works PR for pros and legacy teams. Knows how to spin underdogs into icons."

She blinked. "So… you're pulling in someone from the sports world?"

Lucas nodded. "Exactly. I don't want a corporate media strategist. I want someone who knows how to build hype, momentum, emotion. Not just polish."

The call clicked through.

A warm, slightly cocky voice answered, "Tell me this isn't about your jump shot. Because if it is, I'm hanging up."

Lucas laughed. "Nope. This is real."

Pause.

"You serious?"

"I just bought a team," Lucas said. "I want you on it."

A low whistle. "You running point now?"

"I'm building something," Lucas replied. "And I want you handling the energy around it. Build the culture. Set the tone. Sell the vision."

"I get full access?"

"You get the keys," Lucas said. "But I drive."

Rhea crossed her arms, quietly impressed.

Lucas ended the call and looked at her.

"I don't just want a media moment. I want a movement."

ATHENA's voice chimed in softly.

"He is competent. Strategic. Reckless in the right amounts. And loyal. This was a strong call."

Lucas smiled. "It's time to stop proving I belong here."

He turned toward the window, skyline blazing.

"I'm going to show them they were late to the story."