There were always cracks in Marcus's empire.
Anita just needed to find the right one—and apply pressure.
She found it in Clara Weng.
Publicly, Clara was Marcus's head of strategy. Privately, she was much more: his fixer, his cleaner, the one who tied off loose ends and built bridges no one else could see. She was discreet, efficient, and, above all, loyal.
But Anita remembered something Marcus never noticed—because men like him never did.
Clara used to admire her.
Back when Anita led GNV with purpose, before Marcus slithered in and corrupted everything, Clara would linger after meetings to ask questions others were too proud to pose. Anita had once recommended her for a directorship. Marcus overruled it.
That was the crack.
Anita staged the meeting as a coincidence. A board dinner Clara couldn't skip, a casual greeting that turned into a private toast.
"I hear you're handling expansion into Southeast Asia," Anita said, swirling her wine. "Smart. They've been circling that region since I built the AI lab in Jakarta."
Clara blinked. "You remember that?"
Anita smiled. "I remember everything."
They talked business for twenty minutes. It was cordial, harmless. Then Anita dropped the first stone.
"Strange, though," she said, her tone casual, "how many of my initiatives Marcus is resurrecting. Rebranded, of course. Convenient."
Clara hesitated. "He says they're refinements."
"Does he?"
A beat passed. Anita leaned in slightly.
"You're smarter than he gives you credit for, Clara. I know because I saw it years ago. He never did."
Clara's face didn't change, but her fingers curled around her glass.
Anita stood. "Anyway. Just wanted to say—if you ever want to talk off the record, you know where to find me."
Three days later, Clara showed up at Anita's office.
Late. Alone. Nervous.
"I didn't come to betray him," she said before sitting.
Anita offered nothing but silence.
"I came to ask if you're really back. Or if this is just revenge."
Anita answered honestly. "It started as revenge. But now? It's reclamation."
Clara studied her for a long moment. Then she reached into her coat and slid a thin drive across the desk.
"It's everything I could pull from Ashcroft Holdings without alerting him. If he finds out, I'm dead."
"He won't," Anita said.
She picked up the drive with care.
And just like that, the first fracture formed.
As Clara left, Julian entered.
"She flipped?" he asked.
Anita gave a subtle nod. "He underestimates the quiet ones."
Julian smirked. "He underestimates you, too."
"Let him," she said, turning toward the window.
From thirty-five stories up, the city glowed like it was on fire.
Perfect.
Because the empire Marcus built would burn next—and this time, it would start from the inside.