Monday – 6:00 AM – Estate War Room (East Wing)
The lights buzzed.
Cold white.
Three terminals blinked on as I entered, the room sealed behind me.
Vincent had arranged access to the war room for 48 hours—no more.
On each screen: data nodes, internal logs, public news feeds, and surveillance relays.
Crimson Requiem
Simulated Incident: Political corruption cover-up
Real Risk: One of our actual business arms would suffer if this spiraled
The moment I logged in, a countdown began.
47:59:52
The Setup
The Energy Bureau scandal scenario was set up brilliantly.
Leaked "financial inconsistencies."
Two fake whistleblowers.
A "journalist" from a rival-aligned paper had just gone live with a story accusing Minister Halvard, one of our long-time allies, of embezzling funds and burying a land deal.
On the surface? It looked authentic.
But I could already see the cracks.
The signatures didn't match the official registry.
And the transfer dates didn't align with actual energy outputs.
So, someone had fabricated this… and embedded it into the real system.
This wasn't just a test anymore.
Someone inside the estate was actually using this test to fire a real shot.
The First Move
I called Leif.
He arrived in under five minutes, clipboard in hand.
"I need access to the minister's internal ledger movement records for the past 90 days."
"Classified under Level-4 family seal. I'll require two clearances."
"Yours and Vincent's will do."
He hesitated. Then nodded.
"What else?"
"I want surveillance pulled on the data team in the Bureau. Someone snuck in and planted these fake numbers. I want to know who logged in from our estate server."
He blinked.
"You think it's internal?"
"I know it is."
Thread 1 – The Finance Leak
Two hours later, Leif returned with the ledger files.
I opened them—and spotted it immediately.
One account.
Opened under a shell company.
Traced back to a private consultant.
On paper, the consultant was hired by Minister Halvard.
In reality? The consultant didn't exist.
And the IP that created the paperwork…?
Logged from Estate Terminal B-12.
Thread 2 – The Journalist's Tip
The journalist who published the piece?
A woman named Carine Vale.
Lucian's cousin.
How convenient.
She wasn't even assigned to the political column—her profile covered fashion and gala events.
Yet suddenly she had a three-page exposé on an energy embezzlement story?
Too neat.
I flagged the metadata on the article's draft upload.
The timestamp?
12 hours before the fabricated evidence hit the Bureau's database.
Which meant—
They wrote the story before the scandal even existed.
Sabotage Detected
By midday, I had the threads tied.
Whoever did this used Crimson Requiem to pull off a real sabotage attempt and frame Halvard to weaken our faction.
But when I submitted my findings into the simulation terminal…
ERROR – FILE ACCESS DENIED
A red alert flashed.
Then the entire east wing network went dark for 3.2 seconds.
When the screens returned—half my logs were gone.
Someone was actively purging my data in real time.
From inside.
Vincent Appears
The war room doors burst open.
Vincent entered, his coat flared from movement.
"Someone inside the estate is helping the Vales."
"I know."
"Then tell me who."
"Not yet. I need more."
"Jay."
He stepped forward, eyes sharp.
"They're not playing anymore. This isn't simulation—it's a strike. If you fail to finish this tonight, Reginald won't protect you. He'll use your failure as justification to silence Halvard and tighten control."
"Then I'll finish."
"You have ten hours."
Final Hours – Hunting the Ghost
I called Marin.
Yes—Marin, my old maid.
Why?
Because she used to clean Terminal B-12. And she knew the people who used it.
"There's only one person who had unrestricted access afterhours," she whispered.
"Who?"
"Your cousin. Lionel."
Lionel.
Clara's younger brother.
Low profile.
Quiet.
Unassuming.
And no one would ever suspect him.
Until now.
I stared at the name printed on the last access log.
Lionel Markov.
He'd tried to bury the dagger quietly.
Now?
I was going to flip the whole table.