March – Virelia Summit Hall, Day 6
Storm break
The air inside the summit hall was heavy the next morning. Not loud. Not tense. But loaded—like the room knew something was coming.
Jay sat beside Christin at the long council table, the folders in front of them stacked with the results of their all-night work.
Lady Arienne Duvall called the session to order. "Today's discussion resumes with the pending audit and House Markov's formal response."
Christin stood calmly. "We've reviewed the accusations made regarding falsified fleet activity. Our findings suggest the source was not an internal routing error—but intentional manipulation from outside."
Gasps rippled across the room.
Jay rose next.
"Our analysis uncovered time-stamped logs used from outdated fleet records, masked to appear current. Those records were stored in only two places. We've included screenshots, metadata, and tracker paths."
He let the folder slide down the polished table toward Lady Arienne, who accepted it without comment.
Christin added, "We are not naming the responsible party—yet. But we do ask that an independent digital forensics team from the neutral delegation review this file before the vote proceeds."
The room shifted.
They weren't just defending themselves.
They were demanding justice.
The Turning Tide
For once, Voek didn't speak immediately.
His usual smug posture had stiffened. When he finally did speak, it was measured. "I trust the council will examine these documents fairly. If the claim is baseless, I expect House Markov to withdraw their proposal without delay."
Christin didn't blink. "And if it isn't baseless?"
Voek hesitated.
Then bowed his head slightly. "Then I will formally apologize to House Markov. On record."
Jay sat down slowly.
That wasn't a victory—but it wasn't a loss either.
It was respect. For the first time.
And they felt it.
III. The Aftermath
The break room was unusually quiet.
Christin leaned against the window, sipping water. Jay sat on the edge of a lounge table, legs stretched.
"You did good," she said without turning.
Jay tilted his head. "You're the one who said all the scary stuff."
She smiled faintly. "Still. They heard you."
Jay looked at her carefully. "Did you mean it? Not naming the party yet?"
"I did," she said. "But only because it's smarter this way. If we're right—and I'm sure we are—then letting the truth come from the neutral party gives us moral leverage."
Jay nodded.
He was learning.
Not just how to play the game—but when to let the game play itself.
Her Quiet Admission
Back in their suite that evening, Christin kicked off her heels and let her hair down without ceremony. Jay watched her from the couch, something unreadable behind his eyes.
"You're quiet," she said.
"I'm thinking."
She poured tea. "Dangerous."
Jay took the cup she offered, their fingers brushing slightly.
"I meant what I said last night," he said quietly. "I'm not going to let you do this alone."
Christin held his gaze.
"I know."
Then she hesitated.
"And... thank you."
Jay blinked. That was the first time she'd said that.
Ever.
He didn't press it.
Just let the silence settle.
Between teammates.
Between something more.
A Message at Midnight
Later, Jay's tablet buzzed. He expected a briefing update.
But it was a private message.
From Vincent.
"Your brother has been informed. He's watching the summit."
Jay stared at the screen.
Elias Markov.
The heir.
The golden child.
Watching him.
Jay didn't know how to feel.
He just knew tomorrow's vote wasn't about one proposal anymore.
It was about everything.