The morning light slashed through the angled windows of Elaris Luxe's conference arena, filtering through curated glass designed to enhance mood and perception. It gave the illusion of serenity. But inside Elsa Jefferson's head, there was only storm.
She adjusted the platinum clasp of her blouse with hands too steady to betray the war inside her. Across the long obsidian table, investors, engineers, and brand architects sat like wolves in designer suits. All eager. All ready to devour.
Yet none of them knew.
None of them knew the game beneath the surface. The question Elsa couldn't unsee:Why had Aeris Holdings funded her company five years ago?
And what else did they have their claws in?
Her mind burned with curiosity and suspicion, but she played it cool. She smiled. She nodded. She asked tough questions. And when the time was right, she called for a ten-minute recess.
The moment she was alone, she dialed Zara on her encrypted comm.
"Pull everything you can on Black Tier shell companies around 2020—particularly any linked to Elaris Luxe's seed funding," she said.
"You found something, didn't you?" Zara asked.
"I found a ghost," Elsa murmured. "One I think has been following me longer than I thought."
Elsewhere — Crimson Lounge, Downtown Velmora
Silas Kade sat in the corner booth like a man on vacation. Button-down open at the collar. Glass of imported Velmoran bourbon sweating on the marble table. His smile, lazy. His thoughts, sharp.
He scrolled through a holo-tablet displaying a list of Elaris Luxe's rising assets. One tap showed her latest project—PhoenixWear—garments coded with intelligent neural reactions. Revolutionary. Bold. Vulnerable.
"She's doing better than I expected," he muttered.
A chuckle came from across the table. "Do you want her to win… or lose?"
The speaker was a shadow—nothing more than a man in gray, no facial features visible, only the faint smell of ozone and ash. A broker. A handler. Or worse.
Silas smirked. "I want her desperate. That's when she's sweetest. That's when she'll call me."
"You'll never outplay Golding," the shadow said.
Silas leaned forward, voice like velvet dipped in venom. "I don't need to outplay him. I just need to set the fire and let him burn in it."
The shadow paused. "And if he doesn't?"
Silas drained the last of his drink. "Then I become the fire."
Back at Elaris Luxe HQ – Elsa's Private Vault
As night fell, Elsa stayed behind long after the staff had left, the office bathed in the low glow of data-ribbons and reactive wall-lights. Her fingers moved quickly through her secure console, tracing the digital fingerprints of the mysterious seed investment.
It led her to Marrow Capital, an East Arven shell firm. From there, a blind bridge to Volari Equity, then to something even more obscure: Company XZ-07, owned by…
Her heart stopped.
Aeris Holdings.
She leaned back in her chair, eyes wide.
They had been there. From the beginning. A silent force, threading her path from the shadows.
Chess Golding.
Her husband.
It couldn't be coincidence.
And just like that, something snapped into place in her mind. His strange calmness. His occasional slip of knowledge no one should have. The fact that he never asked about her business—but always seemed a step ahead.
She clutched the edge of the desk.
He had been watching her rise... or guiding it?
"Why didn't you tell me, Chess?" she whispered.
And for the first time, she didn't know if she felt betrayed—or seen.
Aeris Holdings, Black Tower
In a chamber without windows, Chess Golding watched multiple feeds. Elsa in her vault. Silas in the Crimson Lounge. The entire city was a living board, and each player danced to rhythms they couldn't hear.
Iroh Vaen entered, silent as ever. "Elsa is connecting the dots."
Chess gave a slight nod. "It was time."
"She may feel deceived."
"She may. But she also sees clearer when fire's behind her."
Iroh stepped closer. "And Silas?"
"He'll make his move soon," Chess said. "Let him."
"Let him?"
Chess turned. "A trap only works if the prey thinks they're hunting you."
Final Scene — Elsa's Apartment, 3:12 a.m.
Elsa lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts like static. The man beside her in marriage, still a stranger. The game she was winning, perhaps not even hers. The empire she was building, maybe always under someone else's control.
Then her phone buzzed.
One message.From an unknown number.Only two words:
"Be careful."
She stared at it, lips parting slightly. Then… she smiled.
"Too late for that," she whispered. "Now I want answers."