Chapter 24
Emilia had always trusted numbers. They didn't lie. They didn't shift under pressure or play games behind polished smiles.
So, she went back to them.
The digital war room at Stone Enterprises had only been used by her father during high-level security audits. Emilia activated it herself now. Dim lights hummed over towering screens that mapped timelines, financial flows, and access points. Every login, every document touched in the past sixty days—it was all there.
Beside her stood Tasha, her most loyal assistant—and, more recently, Emilia's quiet confidante.
"We've flagged anomalies in two executive accounts," Tasha said. "Marc Delroy and Lillian Crane. Both accessed files beyond their clearance."
Emilia narrowed her eyes. "Delroy is too stupid. And Lillian… she's smart, but she plays safe."
Tasha nodded. "Then maybe they were set up."
"Or maybe they're pawns."
Emilia moved closer to the screen, fingers flying across the tablet. The web she was weaving wasn't theoretical anymore. This was real. Someone had coordinated a breach in leadership while she was distracted with the press, the scandal, even Sebastian.
She wouldn't make that mistake again.
"I want forensic accounting to cross-check all board members' off-shore activity," she said. "And personal communications from private lines—emails, texts, burner phones. All of it."
"Already in motion," Tasha confirmed.
Emilia turned. "Good. Then let's apply pressure."
---
Later that Day...
She summoned three executives into her office separately—softly, without schedule.
Each walked in with confidence, left with uncertainty.
Emilia didn't accuse. She didn't even confront. She asked questions. The kind that danced close to the truth, forcing them to betray flickers of guilt, lies too polished, eyes too quick to look away.
By the time Lillian Crane sat across from her, Emilia had learned enough to smell the fear behind the perfume.
"You've worked with my family for ten years, Lillian," Emilia said, stirring her coffee. "Tell me… did my father ever make you feel dispensable?"
Lillian blinked. "Never. He was… commanding. But he trusted me."
Emilia smiled faintly. "And I trust people who value loyalty. It's a dying currency these days."
"I agree," Lillian said too quickly.
"Then you won't mind if I review your expense logs and personal travel files."
That got her. A flinch—subtle but sharp.
"Of course not," Lillian said. "Whatever you need."
"Thank you." Emilia stood. "That'll be all."
---
Evening...
In her private office, Emilia stared at the map of connections she was building on the wall behind her desk. Pins, lines, flagged accounts. Her father had always warned her: "The real threats wear suits and shake your hand."
He was right.
She was getting closer now. The data was tightening around a small circle. A name was going to fall from that web soon.
And when it did—she would no longer be polite.
No mercy. No public fallout.
----
The first sign came as a subtle glitch.
Emilia was cross-referencing encrypted emails on the secure system when the screen blinked black. Just once. A flicker. But it was enough to make her pause.
She tapped her keyboard again.
Nothing.
Her heartbeat slowed—not from fear, but from awareness.
"Tasha," she called out.
Tasha entered almost immediately, already sensing the shift in atmosphere. "Something wrong?"
"Have IT sweep the system now. Someone tried to breach it remotely."
Tasha paled. "Internal or external?"
Emilia pushed her chair back slowly. "Let's find out."
---
Two Hours Later
The news wasn't what she'd expected—it was worse.
"It was routed through your father's old credentials," the lead IT analyst explained. "Someone used a ghosted access key from three years ago. Clean, almost untraceable. They wanted you to think you'd imagined it."
Emilia felt the chill creep down her spine.
They were trying to rattle her.
It wasn't just about hiding something anymore. It was about breaking her momentum—planting fear in her methodical mind.
She leaned back, voice cool. "I want surveillance checked. Not just today—pull footage from the last four nights. Offices, data room, any physical access. Someone's been inside."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And send security detail home with Tasha," she added. "They may go after people close to me next."
Tasha opened her mouth to protest but stopped when she saw the look in Emilia's eyes.
This wasn't just a game of power anymore. It was personal.
---
That Night...
Emilia returned home, but her thoughts didn't rest.
The message had been clear: Back off.
But they didn't know her. Not really.
She poured herself a glass of red wine and stood at her bedroom window, watching the city glimmer below. Somewhere in those towers, someone had slipped on her father's face and used his access like a weapon.
They wanted to shake her, distract her, maybe even destroy her reputation if necessary.
But they'd made a mistake—because they underestimated what a woman could become when she had nothing left to lose.
She raised the glass to her reflection. "You tried the wrong one."
Her eyes burned not with fear—but with resolve.