2:47 AM. The phone shattered the silence.
Nicholas looked up from his screens—seventeen fraudulent documents, all timestamped after Lizzy's supposed "discovery." He'd been hunting through the audit trail for hours, and the patterns were too clean, too deliberate.
She thinks she can master this system, he thought. But I'm better at this game than she is.
Rex's voice poured through the speaker, slurred and desperate: "Nicholas... Christ, I've fucked up. She played me, mate. Called me pathetic. Said I was just a tool she could use and throw away."
Breaking glass punctuated his words—too perfectly timed.
"I recorded something you should listen to."
The audio file arrived thirty seconds later. Lizzy's voice, crystal clear: "Nicholas still thinks he's indispensable to this company. As if we need his financial advice." David's amused response: "You're cold, Lizzy. Beautifully cold." Then Lizzy again: "After the board meeting, we won't need him anymore. He's served his purpose."
The words hit like shattered glass. Each syllable a professional death sentence.
But something felt off about Rex's call. Too practiced. The breaking glass too perfectly timed.
Nicholas ran deeper analysis on everything Rex had sent. Hidden camera footage from the Shard showed Lizzy sliding a folder marked "Shanghai Autonomy Project" across the table to David. Her voice: "Father's generation doesn't understand modern business. He thinks his financial expertise makes him untouchable? Naive."
Naive. The word stung.
However, at 4:23 AM, Crystalsight completed its most comprehensive protocols.
One monitor blinked amber. Then another.
Nicholas leaned in. A new line scrolled across the screen: "VOICE ANOMALY – 23% DEVIATION."
He froze.
More lines cascaded down:
"AI SYNTHESIS DETECTED.""GPS ORIGIN: LIZZY GRANT – RESIDENCE.""FILES CREATED: 30-MINUTE WINDOW."
Nicholas didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
The final line appeared in blood red: "COORDINATED DECEPTION DETECTED."
Nicholas stood up so fast his chair screeched. For thirty seconds, he shook with rage and betrayal.
Then his breath slowed. He sat back down—a different man. Colder.
They made me into this.
Sebastian's voice echoed: "The truth isn't what happened, Nicholas. It's what people believe happened."
Nicholas began to smile. If Rex wanted to play the concerned friend, he'd give him exactly what he expected. And Rex would carry false intelligence straight back to Lizzy and David.
He wouldn't fight for justice this time. He'd fight for control.
Nicholas crafted his deception with surgical precision: fabricated cash flow projections, doctored merger valuations, falsified board minutes. Each lie was a tripwire, designed to expose Lizzy's real intentions when she acted on them.
Rex would be his mirror, reflecting distorted information back to expose their plan.
As dawn broke over London, Nicholas saved his work and closed the laptop. The city was waking up, unaware that one of its sons had just learned to bite back.
Outside, the first commuters were beginning their day. Inside, Nicholas felt like he was just beginning to sleep—the deep, dreamless sleep of someone who had finally stopped fighting their nature.
The shape of the blade, Nicholas realized, was betrayal itself. And now he must forge one of his own—sharper, more precise, and aimed at the heart of those who had dared to play him.
The game was about to reach its endgame. And Nicholas finally understood that he hadn't just been born for this moment.
He had been carved by it. One precise cut at a time.
The Bermondsey café sat tucked between a vintage bookshop and a flower market. Nicholas arrived fifteen minutes early and claimed a corner table with unobstructed sightlines. The USB drive felt heavy in his jacket pocket—a digital weapon disguised as vulnerability.
Rex appeared at exactly 9:30 AM, his usual punctuality intact despite the previous night's supposed breakdown. Rumpled shirt, yesterday's stubble, but his eyes were too sharp for a man supposedly wrecked by alcohol and guilt.
He slid into the opposite seat, movements carefully choreographed to suggest exhaustion. "Christ, I look like shit, don't I?"
"You look like someone who's had a rough night." Nicholas kept his voice neutral, concerned. "How are you holding up?"
"Like a man who's just realized he's been played by a master." Rex's laugh was bitter, perfectly pitched. "Lizzy's so good. Better than I gave her credit for."
Nicholas leaned forward, playing the concerned friend. "The recording you sent—are you sure it's authentic?"
"Heard it myself. They were in her flat, thought they were safe." Rex's hand trembled slightly—subtle, practiced. "David's got her completely under his spell. Talking about reshaping the company, cutting out the old guard."
"You mean Sebastian's people?"
"Meaning you, specifically." Rex's eyes held just the right amount of sympathy. "I'm sorry, mate."
A flicker of cold satisfaction crept in. It was flawless—too flawless. Real fear sweats, stumbles. This was choreography.
"I've been thinking about what you said," Nicholas began, voice carrying sleepless worry. "About needing to protect ourselves."
Rex straightened slightly. "Yeah?"
"I may have access to some... sensitive information. Financial projections, board discussions." Nicholas pulled out the USB drive, setting it between them like a chess piece. "I kept detailed records."
Rex's eyes fixed on the drive with barely concealed hunger. "What kind of records?"
"Liquidity charts. M&A chatter. Boardroom sentiment snapshots. The company's financial position isn't as stable as presentations suggest. We're looking at potential liquidity issues in Q3, and there have been preliminary discussions about acquisition offers from three different firms."
Nicholas paused, letting the information settle. "If someone wanted to accelerate a takeover or push for major restructuring, this would be perfect ammunition."
"Jesus. That's explosive stuff."
"Which is why I need to be careful." Nicholas hesitated, then pushed the drive across the table. "But if Lizzy and David are planning to move against me anyway, maybe it's time to level the playing field."
"I'll keep it safe," Rex said, pocketing the drive with practiced casualness.
But Nicholas caught something—the way Rex's fingers lingered on his jacket, not where the USB was, but higher up, near his chest. As if checking for something else.
"There's something else," Nicholas said, dropping his voice. "I think there might be others involved. People inside the company feeding information to Clearwater Capital."
Rex's expression sharpened. Too quickly. "What makes you think that?"
The question came without hesitation, without the stumbling confusion of a truly surprised man. Nicholas filed that away.
"Patterns in the data. Security clearances accessed at unusual times, financial models downloaded outside normal business hours." Nicholas shook his head. "We can't trust anyone. Not until we know how deep this goes."
Rex nodded gravely. "I understand. We'll keep this between us."
They finished their coffee in companionable silence. Outside the café, they parted with a firm handshake. Nicholas watched Rex disappear into the morning crowd.
Just before Rex turned the corner, he touched the inside of his jacket briefly—not where the USB was, but the inner lining. Then he glanced back, just once.
And smiled. Almost sadly.
Nicholas felt a chill that had nothing to do with the London morning.
What if Rex knows exactly what game we're both playing?
Back in his office, Nicholas activated the tracking protocol. Every file on the USB contained embedded tracking software that would phone home the moment it was accessed. The financial projections were crafted with specific markers—subtle inconsistencies that would reveal exactly how the information was being used and by whom.
The data Rex had stolen was a mirror—designed to reflect the true intentions of whoever looked into it. If Lizzy acted on the fake liquidity crisis, it would prove her guilt. If David used the merger information to contact Clearwater Capital, it would expose the foreign connection.
Hours later, his phone buzzed with the first alert: The USB files were being accessed from Lizzy's apartment. Rex was sharing his prize faster than expected.
But as Nicholas watched the green dots appear on his screen—USB accessed from Lizzy's apartment, files being copied—he couldn't shake Rex's sad smile.
What if this was all too easy?
His phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number:
"The mirror works both ways, Nicholas. —A friend who knows about inner linings."
Nicholas stared at the message until it disappeared. Auto-delete.
He looked at his screens, which showed Lizzy accessing his fake files, Rex's perfectly timed betrayal, and David's convenient villainy.
What if I'm not the hunter? What if I'm still the prey?
Phase one of his counter-operation was complete. But now, staring at that cryptic message, Nicholas realized the game had more players than he'd ever imagined.
And he still didn't know who was holding the blade.
Outside, London hummed with its morning rhythm. Inside, Nicholas felt the familiar sensation of being watched by invisible eyes, moved by unseen hands.
The shape of the blade, he was beginning to understand, might be far more complex than simple betrayal.
It might be something he couldn't see coming at all.