Athena stood before the tall glass building of the Giacometti company, the wind tugging at her coat, her chin held high and shoulders squared. The rain has finally stopped.
The massive logo gleamed faintly under the morning sun, but the glimmer it once held for her now seemed dull—like a fading crown. She studied it for a moment, her expression unreadable.
Her earlier plan had been simple: let the company rot. Let the empire Ewan had built collapse into rubble while the world gawked. But then she’d thought of Spider—and the hacker’s uncanny skill at turning disasters into opportunities.
No, letting the company burn wasn’t clever enough. True revenge wasn’t destruction. It was control.
She smiled faintly, the kind that barely touched her lips but sharpened her eyes. Today, she would take everything—, elegantly, irrevocably.
Her fingers tightened around her black leather bag, the one containing the documents that would end all debate before it even began. A quick glance at the crowd ahead reminded her why she’d brought guards. Cameras flashed. Microphones stretched forward like hungry mouths.
"Dr. Athena! Are you here to support Mr. Giacometti?"
"Is it true you were the one who exposed the data leak?"
"Rumor says you’re working with him?"
Athena smiled politely, not slowing her stride. "No comments," she said smoothly, her heels clicking against the marble floor as security cleared a path. Her guards flanked her, forming a quiet wall against the frenzy.
Once inside, the hum of the lobby swallowed the noise from outside. Familiar faces turned to stare. Some smiled in awkward recognition, others looked away in shame or fear. Athena acknowledged none of them.
The elevator chimed softly. As she stepped in, she caught her reflection in the mirrored wall—composed, powerful, and distant. It had been just three days since she’d last been here, since she’d walked these halls as Ewan’s partner. Now she returned, not as a lover, but as a reckoning.
When the doors slid open on the top floor, Sandro stood near the meeting room, engaged in low conversation with Madam Ruby. His official laugh faded the moment he saw Athena approach.
"Athena.. he began, a mixture of relief and dread in his tone.
She offered him a stiff, perfunctory smile. "Sandro."
He looked as though he wanted to say more—to explain, to defend, to plead—but she brushed past him before he could. The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, cool and sharp like her resolve.
Inside, the boardroom was already full. A dozen shareholders sat around the long mahogany table, the air thick with tension. Whispers ceased as Athena entered. Heads turned.
She took her seat at the far end of the table without invitation. Her posture was straight, regal almost. The sleek bun at the back of her head gleamed under the ceiling light.
"Let’s proceed," she said evenly, and that was all it took for Sandro, stepping into the boardroom, to clear his throat and flag the meeting open.
The first speaker—a gray-haired man with anxious eyes—was already voicing his frustrations. "We can’t keep operating like this! The media is tearing us apart, clients are withdrawing, and still no word from Mr. Ewan. What exactly is going on?"
All eyes shifted to Sandro. He exhaled quietly and leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "We are handling the situation," he began, his tone firm but weary. "This entire mess is a coordinated attack by an organized group. The leaked documents, the alleged transactions—they were doctored to discredit Mr. Ewan and this company’s good work in this country."
A few heads nodded. A few frowned.
"What about the call recordings?" a woman demanded. "And the receipts?"
Sandro forced a smile. "Fabricated. All of it. We have reason to believe that this was orchestrated to target not just Mr. Ewan but the entire division involved in stopping the menace of the grey disease. Please, we need patience. The board must not fall into panic. We will clear his name soon."
When Sandro finally leaned back, clearly hoping for the matter to be dropped, Athena let the pen slip from her fingers. It landed against the wooden surface with a sharp tap.
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