Morning came like a punch.
Yuna opened her eyes to the sound of a dozen phones vibrating across Wolfe Tower.
The headlines hit before the coffee brewed.
> BREAKING: Wolfe Matriarch's Death Certificate Forged—By Her Son?
> Eastin Holdings Releases Bombshell Documents—Alexander Wolfe Implicated in Cover-Up
> Yuna Eastin: Complicit or Captive?
Within an hour, every major network had picked it up.
Talk shows speculated. Investors panicked. Shareholders called emergency meetings.
And somewhere in the chaos, Elsa smiled.
In the heart of Wolfe Tower, Alexander stood in front of the largest screen in his command room, the forged certificate blown up ten times its size.
Austin had yet to reappear.
And his security team had yet to locate him.
Yuna walked in with a storm behind her eyes. "I didn't know about this."
"I believe you," Alexander said.
She blinked.
"You do?"
"Yes. But it doesn't matter anymore."
He turned.
His face wasn't angry.
It was calculating.
"They've shifted the narrative," he continued. "From us exposing them… to them discrediting us. Now we're the villains."
Yuna swallowed. "And people believe it?"
"They want to," he said. "It's easier than facing the truth."
She looked at the certificate again. "Your mother's name. Your signature. Why would someone go this far?"
"To break the alliance," he murmured. "You and me—that's what they fear. That's what they're trying to shatter."
She stared at him. "And what if they succeed?"
He looked at her then.
Long.
Slow.
"Then we give them a show so convincing they'll regret ever writing the script."
Two hours later, they arrived at a press event already teeming with cameras and questions.
Alexander wore charcoal-black.
Yuna wore white silk, high collar, no jewelry.
Together, they stepped to the podium like royalty carved from fury.
Reporters shouted questions.
> "Is it true you faked your mother's death, Mr. Wolfe?"
> "Miss Eastin, were you involved in the cover-up?"
> "What do you say to the board's vote of no confidence?"
Alexander leaned forward.
"My mother's death was real. The certificate? Forged—yes. But not by me. And certainly not for gain. My family has been hunted, manipulated, and betrayed."
He looked at Yuna.
She stepped forward.
Her voice did not shake.
"Operation Glass Dove was designed to silence me. Now they're trying to bury both of us under their lies. But we are not afraid. We are not stepping down. And we will not go quietly."
Backstage after the broadcast, Alexander stared at the floor.
"I don't know who to trust anymore," he murmured.
"You trusted me," Yuna said.
He looked up. "Did I?"
She flinched.
Not from anger.
From truth.
"I want to," he added. "But every piece we uncover feels like another trap."
"And yet we keep going," she whispered. "Why?"
"Because there's no other way."
She moved closer.
So close.
Their hands brushed.
"I don't know what this is between us," she whispered. "But I know it's the only real thing I've felt in years."
Alexander leaned in.
Their foreheads touched.
Not a kiss.
Not yet.
But a moment suspended in heat and heartbreak.
"Then don't lie to me," he said. "Not even to protect me."
"I won't."
"Swear it."
"I swear."
He stepped back.
Just slightly.
But the space between them now felt infinite.
That night, Yuna sat alone in her guest suite scrolling through public reaction.
It was vicious.
Wolves feeding on wolves.
They said she was an accomplice. A manipulator. A gold-digger.
One comment chilled her more than the rest.
> "She's a prettier version of her father. All silk. No soul."
She closed the app.
Walked to the mirror.
Touched her cheek.
Then her lips.
Then her wrist.
The one that had once been bandaged in a hospital hallway.
They would not win.
Even if she lost everything—she'd burn them with her fall.
Elsewhere, in a low-lit tech den, Austin watched the press conference with detached amusement.
He reached for a cold coffee and clicked open a folder marked PHASE FOUR.
Inside: a list of names.
Board members. Judges. Journalists.
And beneath it, one final document:
> Operation Hollow Crown
A contingency plan.
If Alexander and Yuna refused to collapse…
Then the empire would.
From the inside.
The next morning, a video hit the dark web.
Uploaded anonymously.
Time-stamped the night of the press conference.
> A hotel suite.
Two people.
Alexander Wolfe.
Yuna Eastin.
Kissing.
Clothes on the floor.
Her voice, breathless:
"I'd burn the world for you."
The caption:
> "Power. Lust. Lies. Everything is transactional."
And just like that, the war went viral.