Evelyn was not running from the law; she was running from the crushing reality of Julian Thorne's financial vengeance. She dropped her regular phone into a municipal trash can miles from the pier—it was a beacon, a traceable node in Thorne's network.
Now, she was just a person on foot in the middle of the night, carrying nothing but a backpack and a heavy, sinking feeling in her gut. She was a discredited journalist—the easiest kind to ignore.
She knew where she had to go: back to the city, but not the Chronicle. She needed a safe house, and the only person she could trust with her physical safety, and the security of the data she'd just leaked, was Marcus Volkov.
It took her nearly two hours of walking and a circuitous route of subway transfers to reach the anonymous, upper-floor condo Marcus kept for his infrequent visits to the city. She pressed the buzzer, her body aching with exhaustion.
The door opened almost instantly. Marcus, still in his tailored jacket, looked at her with an expression of grim expectation.
"I saw the headline," he said, stepping aside to let her in. "Thorne is fast. He didn't just fire you; he tainted the entire well. You're poison now."
"He offered me ten million dollars, Marcus," Evelyn confessed, the number still echoing in her mind. "To issue a retraction and run his new philanthropy wing. Enough to save the paper, save my family, and secure my life."
Marcus didn't react. He simply led her to a minimalist living room overlooking the darkened city skyline—a view Evelyn now recognized as being dangerously close to Thorne's own corporate tower.
"A billion dollars would have been cheap for him. Ten million was just an insult wrapped in an opportunity. I'm proud you didn't take it, Evelyn. It means your principles are not for sale, which is rare in this city." He poured her a glass of water. "But now, you don't just need a place to sleep. You need a defense fund."
"The story is out," Evelyn insisted, sitting down, feeling a momentary sense of triumph. "I hit 'Commit' before he could cut the connection. The ledger is on the dark web, with the watchdogs, and with five major news agencies. We won that battle."
Marcus nodded slowly. "The transmission was successful. I confirmed the receipt with three of the recipients. But that was the signal. Now comes the counter-attack."
He pulled up a news feed on a massive screen embedded in the wall. The first article was the one about Evelyn's firing. The second was an official statement from Aethel.
AEHTEL STATEMENT: MALICIOUS ATTACK ON MARKET INTEGRITY.
The statement was a masterpiece of corporate spin, written not in the language of denial, but the language of authority.
"Aethel confirms it has notified the Department of Justice of a sophisticated, targeted effort to destabilize Aethel's market position through the creation of fabricated financial ledgers and corporate slander. The individual responsible, Evelyn Reed, has been terminated by her employer and will face the full weight of the law."
"Fabricated ledgers?" Evelyn exclaimed. "They're just going to call it fake?"
"Of course," Marcus said, resting his hand on the screen. "Thorne's money doesn't just buy silence; it buys credibility. He's launching a simultaneous legal and PR blitz. He is suing every single recipient of that leak for defamation and economic warfare. The lawsuit alone, even if he loses, will cost those outlets hundreds of millions in legal fees. It forces them to choose between publishing the truth and facing bankruptcy. His money is screaming a threat now."
"So the news agencies will bury the story to save themselves?"
"Most will," Marcus confirmed grimly. "They're corporations, too. They will calculate the financial risk versus the moral reward, and the money will win. We need to focus on the one group he can't buy: The Watchdogs. The non-profits and government committees that are legally and morally obliged to investigate."
Marcus turned to Evelyn, his professional manner softening into genuine concern. "Thorne's legal team will be hunting you. They want you silenced—permanently, through bankruptcy and prison. They will charge you with corporate espionage, fraud, and theft. The cost of your principles, Evelyn, is about to be measured in legal fees you cannot afford."
"So what's the next move?" Evelyn asked, exhaustion giving way to a grim resolution. "We keep fighting. We can't let him win by default."
"We can't fight him in court; he owns the system," Marcus stated. "We have to fight him in the one place he hasn't fully conquered: the public forum. We need one person—one respected, financially unassailable voice—to stand up and confirm that ledger. A witness whose words carry more weight than Thorne's money."
Evelyn immediately knew who that had to be. Dr. Aris Thorne. The man who had traded his conscience for a golden cage.
"I have to go back to Malibu," Evelyn said. "I have to convince Aris Thorne to break his silence and face the NDA penalties. He needs to choose his legacy over his wealth."
Marcus nodded slowly, the city lights shimmering behind him. "If he speaks, he sacrifices everything. His millions, his house, his freedom. He'll become a financial martyr. But if he speaks, the watchdogs will have the proof they need to ignore the lawsuits. It's a slim chance, Evelyn, but it's the only one we have."
The final confrontation was no longer Evelyn against Thorne's empire. It was about whether a single man's WORDS, spoken at the ultimate price, could finally drown out the deafening roar of Julian Thorne's MONEY.