Aurelian Harmony Group.
A name so gentle it could have belonged to a charity, a hospital, a foundation for orphaned children. A name that promised balance and healing and progress.
A name that hid mass dismissal, illegal facilities, human experimentation, and the quiet erasure of anyone inconvenient.
Lola spat every time she heard it.
She had been summoned twice to sign.
Twice she had refused.
The first time, she laughed.
"You fired my sick father after thirty years and expect me to sign a promise of silence?" she asked, leaning back in the chair. "At least threaten me properly."
The second time, she crossed her legs and said, "You people love contracts so much. Ever tried signing one with your conscience?"
That was when they stopped asking nicely.
Leo did not visit her often, but she felt his presence everywhere—like pressure before a storm. He did not need to raise his voice. Power like his didn't shout. It waited.
When he finally did appear, it was not dramatic.
He stood in the doorway of her holding room as if he belonged there, tailored suit untouched by the underground, expression calm, observant. His eyes swept over her—not with hunger, not with anger—but with interest.
"You're still here," he said mildly.
"That's usually what happens when people are imprisoned," Lola replied. "They don't get to leave."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Most people sign."
"Most people accept injustice because it's easier than fighting it," she shot back. "I'm allergic to easy."
He stepped inside, the door closing silently behind him.
"You have a sense of humor," Leo said. "Even now."
"Humor keeps me human," Lola replied. "You should try it. You're starting to look… corporate."
That earned her a slow chuckle.
"Your father raised you well," Leo said.
Her heart tightened, but her face didn't change.
"You shouldn't talk about him," she said evenly.
"He worked for Aurelian Harmony Group for decades," Leo continued, unfazed. "A loyal man. Intelligent. Observant."
Dangerous.
Lola heard the word even if he didn't say it.
"He's sick," she said. "And you dismissed him like trash."
"We dismissed thousands," Leo replied. "Efficiency demands sacrifice."
"Funny," Lola said. "That sacrifice is never you."
The silence that followed was sharp.
Leo leaned closer. "Your father knows things he shouldn't."
Lola felt the shift deep in her bones.
"What kind of things?"
"The kind that ruin companies," Leo said softly. "And men."
After that conversation, the underground mansion felt smaller.
Days passed. Or weeks. Time had no meaning where sunlight did not reach. Lola remained locked up while more detainees were released. Each release thinned the population until only a few remained—the stubborn ones, the loud ones, the ones who refused to disappear quietly.
Lola was one of them.
Then the guards changed.
They became colder. More alert. Whispers followed her when she was escorted through corridors. Doors locked faster. Cameras lingered longer.
Something was happening.
She learned the truth through a crack in cruelty.
A guard—young, nervous, too human for this place—hesitated one night while sliding her meal through the slot. His hands shook.
"What?" Lola asked.
He swallowed. "Nothing."
"That's the worst lie you could've chosen," she said. "Try again."
He hesitated. Then whispered, "Your father… he's causing trouble."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"What kind of trouble?"
"He's been asking for journalists. Lawyers. Threatening exposure."
Pride bloomed through the fear like fire.
"That sounds like him," Lola said quietly.
"He told them," the guard continued, voice shaking, "that if you're not released, he'll go to the press with everything he knows."
The meal tray slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor.
The next morning, Lola was not taken for questioning.
That alone terrified her.
The underground mansion felt different—tenser, quieter, like a held breath. Even Leo did not come.
Hours later, the door opened.
Two guards stood there.
"Get up."
She was led through corridors she had never seen before—deeper, darker. The air grew colder. They stopped outside a glass room.
Leo was already inside.
He did not invite her to sit.
"Your father was warned," he said calmly.
Lola's heart pounded violently. "You don't get to threaten him through me."
"He threatened us," Leo corrected. "He wanted to destroy Aurelian Harmony Group's reputation."
"With the truth," Lola snapped.
"There is no such thing as truth," Leo said. "Only narratives that survive."
She leaned forward. "If you touch him—"
"He made his choice," Leo interrupted.
The words fell like a guillotine.
"What does that mean?" Lola whispered.
Leo turned the screen on.
At first, it was static.
Then her father appeared.
He was not in a hospital.
He was tied to a chair.
Blood stained his shirt. His face was swollen, one eye barely open. But when he looked up—when he saw the camera—he smiled.
The same smile he'd given her when she was little and afraid.
"My brave girl," he said hoarsely.
Lola screamed.
The guards held her back as she thrashed, her voice tearing itself raw.
"Don't," she begged. "Please. I'll sign. I'll sign anything."
Leo watched without emotion.
"You're too late," he said.
A man stepped into the frame.
Then another.
They did not rush it.
They made sure it hurt.
The sound never left her—the crack, the wet thud, the final gasp.
The screen went black.
Lola collapsed to her knees, a sound leaving her that did not feel human.
"He died because he loved you," Leo said calmly. "And because he believed the world still listened to honest men."
She looked up at him through tears and blood and something far darker.
"You didn't kill him," she said hoarsely. "You proved him right."
Leo studied her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
"You're still alive," he said. "That's mercy."
Lola laughed then.
It was broken. Wild. Terrifying.
"No," she said. "That's your mistake."
Because somewhere deep underground, in a prison built to erase voices—
A woman who hated injustice had just lost everything.
And silence was no longer an option.
When Lola went back to her cell after crying her eyes out, she remembered the physical appearance of one of the guys that killed her father, he looked like her boyfriend Mathew.
But Mathew works with a good organization he can't work for someone like Leo. And people do have the same appearance right?