The first ping came at 11:47 AM.
Nicholas watched the monitors as the USB tracking protocol activated. Every file access is mapped in real-time. Every communication thread is exposed.
Seventeen minutes ago, Lizzy had opened the liquidity projections. The fabricated Q3 cash flow crisis was seeping through her network.
A second alert: David Zhang is forwarding merger valuations to an encrypted address. Reverse lookup: Harrison Webb, Senior Partner at Clearwater Capital.
They're dancing to my tune, Nicholas thought. Puppets pulling their strings.
His phone buzzed. Rex: "They're moving faster than expected. Lizzy's calling emergency meetings. David's been on encrypted calls all morning."
Nicholas studied the message. Rex made no mention of the USB or the intelligence Nicholas had shared, as if he'd uncovered everything himself.
Nicholas typed back: "Keep watching."
But something niggled beneath the surface. Rex's intel was too neat, too timely. And that cryptic message from this morning—"The mirror works both ways"—still echoed in his mind.
The Real Game
Through Crystalsight's international monitoring, Nicholas saw Lizzy launch "Project Autonomy"—severing Shanghai operations from London oversight. Her messages to David were frantic: "Liquidity constraints confirmed. We need to act before Nicholas consolidates more power."
She was scrambling on quicksand—her rebellion built on false projections.
Yet, deeper probing revealed a more troubling pattern. Clearwater Capital's interest in GDI's Shanghai hub stretched back to Sebastian's first hospitalization. They'd been watching, waiting to strike at this precise vulnerability.
David's communication logs showed six replies to Clearwater IP addresses over the past quarter. Each mentioned "streamlining recommendations"—a euphemism for restructuring.
They're not masterminds, Nicholas realized. They're pawns.
David, meticulously groomed and guided. Lizzy, desperate and predictable. Clearwater hadn't recruited them—they'd merely observed them unravel on cue.
The true players remained in shadows.
Professional Warfare
At 2:15 PM, the articles hit the wires.
"GDI Financial Controller Under Investigation for Accounting Irregularities."
"Nicholas Grant: Rising Star or Reckless Gambler?"
"Sources Close to GDI Suggest Internal Audit Concerns."
Nicholas felt his chest tighten. The pieces were surgical. Professionally crafted. Devastating.
Anonymous sources dissected him: reckless, overreaching, liability.
He stared at the black screen. His reflection, faint in the glass, blurred between predator and prey.
This wasn't Lizzy's amateur hour. This was Clearwater flexing muscle—the kind of reputation assassination that required deep industry ties and serious resources.
I've been fighting shadows, he thought, while the real enemy prepared to strike.
His secure phone buzzed. Olivia: "Saw the news. They're moving fast. Need to talk."
Relief flickered. At least he wasn't alone.
He typed back: "Agreed. Tonight. Secure line."
But beneath it all, doubt lingered. After this morning's suspicion about Rex, trust was a fragile commodity.
The Call
Nicholas waited until midnight. The secure line clicked through after three rings.
"Nicholas?" Olivia's voice was tight, measured—no room for sentiment. "I've had six cups of coffee. No sleep. But I'm done being underestimated."
"Those articles—"
"Amateur hour," she interrupted. "They think because I don't play Lizzy's political games, I'm naive about corporate warfare."
"You knew about Project Autonomy?"
"Nicholas, I know every operational lever in this company. Lizzy's broken fifteen protocols this week alone. I've been logging everything."
Her voice sharpened, clipped. "Sebastian made a bet on me. I've spent a decade making sure that bet paid dividends. If they think they can write that off like a spreadsheet line item—they don't understand how I play."
"So what's the plan?"
"We turn their game against them. Emergency Protocol 7 kicks in at 6 AM—operational lockdown under the guise of a 'security review.' Every international transfer needs dual CFO-COO sign-off."
Nicholas's pulse quickened. "That cuts off Lizzy's Shanghai moves."
"Exactly. David's reassigned to London for a compliance review—pulls him from her orbit. Her key Shanghai contacts rotated elsewhere as part of routine personnel realignment."
"Won't that raise suspicions?"
"I've managed restructures for years. I know how to make this look like business as usual."
A pause. Then Olivia's voice dropped: "They picked the wrong fight, Nicholas. Tomorrow, we show them what a real counterattack looks like."
As Nicholas hung up, he felt something rare in recent days: genuine hope.
Yet, a whisper echoed in his mind: What if this is exactly what they want you to feel?
He stood by the window, watching London's quiet glow. So much power was concentrated behind glass walls, in sealed meetings. He wondered, again, if his war was inside a cage—transparent, precise, invisible until it's too late.
In the reflection, he didn't see a master strategist. Just another piece moved on an unseen board.
The mirror had too many sides. And he wasn't sure which one he was looking through.
Outside, London slept—unaware that, in towers across the city, the real game had only just begun.
And Nicholas still wasn't sure whose side he was on.