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Chapter 525:
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The blood in Allison’s veins turned to ice. The sheer, pathological evil of it took her breath away. Cheyanne hadn’t just leaked the news, she had crafted the entire narrative. She had tried to have her murdered.
The audio file ended. After a moment of silence, a cold, synthesized voice spoke a single sentence: “A gift from Mr. Kensington.”
Allison removed her AirPods, her face a pale, emotionless mask. The last vestiges of any familial sentiment, any lingering pity for her cousin, incinerated in that moment. Nothing remained but a cold, burning desire for annihilation.
She stood and walked back to Hoffman’s desk.
The look in her eyes made him physically recoil, his chair scraping back.
She placed her phone on his desk, not with a slam, but with a quiet, deadly finality. “I am giving you one chance, Director. Reinstate my full access. Now. Or I will walk out of this office and hand-deliver evidence of corporate espionage and conspiracy to commit fraud directly to the board of directors and the SEC. Your choice.”
She didn’t play the recording. She didn’t need to. The absolute certainty in her voice was enough. Hoffman stared at the black, silent phone as if it were a live grenade. He didn’t know what was on it, but he knew, with sudden, gut-twisting certainty, that his career was not worth the gamble.
His hand trembled as he reached for his desk phone and punched in the extension for IT.
𝘋𝗶ѕс𝗼𝘃𝖾𝘳 𝘩𝗂𝗱𝖽𝗲n g𝗲mѕ 𝘰n 𝗴a𝘭𝘯𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘭𝘀.𝘤о𝗆
Miles away, in the sterile quiet of the Long Island safe house, Adam Kensington closed a file on his laptop. It contained a complete transcript of Cheyanne’s call, along with financial records showing a large, untraceable payment from one of Katharine’s offshore accounts to the freelance reporter.
Kip’s face appeared on the video conference screen. “It’s confirmed. Cheyanne fed them the story, Katharine paid for its placement.”
Adam’s gaze was fixed on the storm-tossed ocean outside the window. “Good,” he said, his voice flat.
He ended the call and issued a new command to his unseen network. “Activate Project Chimera, Phase Three. I don’t just want her ruined. I want every skeleton dug up, every fake diploma exposed, every dirty secret she’s ever had. I want the Montgomery name to become a toxic asset because of her.”
Adam ended the communication, but his fingers remained poised over the keyboard. The vast, silent living room of the safe house was illuminated only by the glow of a dozen monitors, each displaying a different stream of data. Outside, the sky had turned bruised purple-gray, the prelude to a violent coastal storm.
Dr. Miles entered, footsteps silent on polished concrete. “Time to change the dressing, Adam.”
Adam didn’t look away from the screens. He extended his injured arm wordlessly, his focus absolute. One monitor played a silent, looping video of the media ambush in the plaza. He watched Allison’s initial shock, the way she flinched from the flashes, the moment of isolation before her fury took over. Each viewing was a fresh twist of the knife.
.
.
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