The Morning After
Mexico City awoke to silence, the kind that follows storms. The charred remains of Specter's last strike still smoldered in the outskirts, and whispers of CIA corpses littered alleys and safehouses.
Arthur Ashford stood at his balcony, cigar glowing in the dawn. The city below seemed smaller, tamer—like a beast he'd collared.
Bianca walked up, bandages on her arm from the kidnapping attempt. Her voice was soft but laced with steel. "They underestimated us. They won't again."
Arthur's smirk was cold. "They won't get another chance. From this moment, Mexico belongs to us."
The Blueprint of Empire
Arthur summoned his council of empresses and Ghost lieutenants. A massive map of Mexico stretched across the table, pins and strings marking industries, families, cartels, and political networks.
"Wars are not won by bullets alone," Arthur declared. "They are won by bread, oil, and voices."
Aurora leaned forward, her calculating eyes scanning the pins. "The media networks first. Whoever controls the screen controls the soul."
Eva nodded, tapping a cluster of pins near the Gulf. "Pemex and the private refineries. Mexico bleeds oil. Own the veins, and we own the body."
Carmen smirked. "And the cartels? Their loyalty isn't bought with speeches. They need to fear something greater than the Americans. Greater than each other."
Isabella's fiery tone cut through the room: "And the people need a leader they can see. Every hospital, every factory, every school—when they see Ashford banners there, they'll know who feeds them."
Arthur's fingers drummed the table. "Good. Then we move on all fronts. By the time Washington blinks again, Mexico will be nothing less than Ashford territory."
Conquering the Media
Within weeks, La Voz Mexicana, the largest television network, was quietly absorbed through shell corporations.
When journalists resisted, scandalous footage and hidden debts surfaced like ghosts from nowhere. Those who refused were replaced by new anchors, charismatic faces funded by Ashford money.
Soon, prime-time broadcasts filled with narratives of sovereignty, resistance, and Ashford-led prosperity.
One anchor proclaimed:
"For the first time in decades, Mexico has a protector who does not kneel to foreign powers. The Ashford Empire is not here to rule us—it is here to defend us."
Crowds cheered in homes, believing every word.
Owning the Veins of Oil
Eva masterminded the takeover of refineries and transport lines.
At first, executives scoffed at the young Ashford heir—until their bank accounts froze overnight, their mistresses' secrets spilled into tabloids, and their offshore vaults mysteriously emptied.
By the time Arthur called them into a private meeting, they signed over their shares with trembling hands.
"Congratulations," Arthur told them smoothly, pouring whiskey. "You've just become partners of the most powerful energy syndicate in the world. Play nice, and you'll live rich. Cross me, and you'll die poor."
The oil was his.
The Cartel Gambit
The cartels were trickier.
Carmen and Jessie arranged a summit in the mountains, where three of the largest cartel leaders gathered under heavy guard. Their plan was to unite against Arthur, to stop this foreign noble from carving into their business.
Arthur entered the room alone.
"You fear me because I take what you already own," he said calmly. "But I offer something no one else can: legitimacy."
When they laughed, Arthur signaled Jessie. At once, drone footage projected onto the wall—live streams of each leader's private villas surrounded by Ghost operatives. Families trembling under laser sights.
The laughter died.
"You will work for me," Arthur said, voice like steel. "In exchange, I will launder your businesses into legitimate industries. Shipping. Logistics. Pharmaceuticals. If you refuse…" He let the silence speak, as the footage of families froze mid-frame.
By the end of the night, the cartels bent the knee.
The People's Savior
While empires were stitched behind curtains, Arthur launched a public front.
Bianca oversaw new healthcare clinics branded with the Ashford crest.
Nora pushed education reforms, sponsoring schools and universities.
Isabella rallied fiery rallies, speaking of sovereignty and a new Mexico rising.
Children carried Ashford-branded notebooks. Farmers received subsidies. Mothers lined up in clinics where doctors were funded by Arthur's empire.
Whispers grew into belief: Arthur Ashford was the man who gave, not just took.
The Generals' Loyalty
Summer and Aurora brokered quiet meetings with the Mexican military.
Generals were bought not only with money but with promises—modernized bases, advanced weaponry, and pensions for families. Those who hesitated received "ghostly reminders" in the form of sudden financial collapses or leaked scandals.
One by one, they swore loyalty.
Revenge Served Cold
Arthur never forgot those who had laughed at his fallen house, years ago in Europe. Many had invested in American-backed industries in Mexico, using the nation as their personal playground.
One by one, their businesses collapsed.
Rival banking families watched as Ghost operatives drained their accounts.
European tycoons saw their factories seized through "nationalization reforms."
Those who mocked the Ashford legacy now knelt, or disappeared.
When one Spanish magnate begged for mercy, Arthur leaned close.
"My father's ghost thanks you for your arrogance. But my empire doesn't forgive."
The magnate was never seen again.
The Rise of Empresses
And through it all, the empresses shone.
Carmen, feared by cartel bosses, became known as La Reina de Sombras—the Queen of Shadows.
Isabella, adored by millions, emerged as Mexico's rising political star.
Eva, manipulating oil and finance, was whispered about in Wall Street and London as the woman who outplayed bankers.
Aurora, ever the tactician, made generals bow.
Bianca, Nora, and Summer, each carved their domains of healthcare, education, and diplomacy.
Each woman was no longer just a companion—they were pillars of the empire.
Chains and Webs
By the end of the year, Mexico was no longer Mexico.
It was the first jewel of the Ashford Crown.
Arthur sat in the war room, reports stacked high, as Jessie whispered: "We've bled America dry here. But Washington won't accept defeat forever."
Arthur's smile was calm, dangerous.
"Let them try. My empire is not a flame to be blown out—it's wildfire. And now, it spreads north."