Chapter 8: The Puppet Master’s Hand
The atmospheric pressure inside the high-rise headquarters of Vance Holdings was suffocating. By 2:00 AM, the conference room was a battlefield of empty coffee cups, glowing monitors, and tense whispers. Arthur Harrison sat at the head of the table, his tie loosened, tracking the digital footprints left by the ghost hacker.
"We found the leak," Arthur said as Evelyn walked in, wearing a sharp, tailored black suit that signaled she was ready for war. He pointed to a line of glowing green code. "The authorization came from a terminal inside our own human resources department. Specifically, the credentials used belonged to Julian Vance—Dominic’s cousin."
Evelyn paused, a cold smile touching her lips. "Julian. The perpetual black sheep. Dominic always despised him, yet it seems Dominic knew exactly which strings to pull. Julian’s gambling debts in Macau must have caught up with him."
"We’ve already contacted the authorities," Arthur noted. "But Julian vanished from his apartment three hours ago. He’s in hiding, likely waiting for the market crash to collect his payout from the Nemesis Trust."
"Then we don't look for Julian," Evelyn said, leaning over the table, her eyes reflecting the data streams. "We cut off the oxygen to the trust itself. Arthur, how much liquidity do we have in our secondary reserve accounts? The ones we set aside from the European luxury asset liquidation?"
Arthur gasped slightly, realizing her intent. "Nearly two hundred million dollars. But Evelyn, that was your safety net. If you use that to counter-buy the shorted stock, you are effectively playing chicken with a ghost. If the market panics faster than you can buy, you’ll lose everything."
"Then we don't just buy," Evelyn replied, her voice dropping to a dangerous, confident whisper. "We change the narrative. The reason Dominic’s proxy is shorting us is because they think we are vulnerable. They think I am a wounded single mother hiding in the hills. We are going to give the media something else to talk about."
She picked up her phone and dialed a number she hadn't called in months—the personal line of Victoria Sterling, the matriarch of the East Coast’s most influential media conglomerate, and an old friend of her late father.
"Victoria," Evelyn said when the line connected. "I hope you’re awake. I’m about to give you the exclusive of the decade. The Vance Holdings restructuring isn't just a corporate cleanup. Tomorrow morning, at 8:30 AM, I am announcing a global joint venture with the French hospitality giant, Chevalier Group. Yes, the paperwork was signed last week. I was holding it for the annual gala, but I think tomorrow is a much better day to change the world."
Arthur stared at her in absolute awe. By announcing a massive, highly profitable international merger thirty minutes before the market opened, the stock wouldn't plummet—it would skyrocket. The short-sellers would be caught in what the financial world called a "short squeeze." They would be legally forced to buy back the shares at astronomical prices to cover their losses, effectively bankrupting the Nemesis Trust and whoever was operating it.
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"It’s brilliant," Arthur whispered. "But it requires absolute precision. If Julian or whoever is backing him realizes what we are doing, they might release personal kompromat to damage your reputation before the announcement."
"Let them try," Evelyn said, her eyes flashing with a fierce, unyielding light. "I am done being afraid of ghosts."
