The boardroom was silent except for the soft clicking of Elise's heels as she entered, tablet in hand.
"The mole has been secured," she reported.
Damien didn't look up from his desk, but his voice was cold and controlled.
"Details."
"Low level associate. Bribed by Caldwell's network. He leaked shipment routes, minor assets. Nothing critical. But enough to test us."
Damien's jaw tightened.
"He won't leak anything else."
Elise nodded.
"The message has been delivered. The others got the message."
There was no need for more words.
The Lancaster methods were efficient and final.
That evening, Damien returned to the penthouse earlier than usual. Ariana sat at the dining table, reviewing some charity reports she had been working on to fill her endless quiet hours.
"You're home early," she remarked.
Damien poured himself a glass of whiskey before answering.
"The storm moves faster now. I prefer to control it directly."
Ariana closed her files, watching him.
"Is Caldwell pushing harder?"
His gaze shifted to her, the ice in his eyes momentarily softening.
"Yes."
"And you're pushing back."
"Yes."
Simple. Final. Inevitable.
The doorbell chimed rare for the penthouse.
Both turned their heads instinctively as Elise appeared.
"It's a delivery," she said calmly, though Ariana noticed the slightest tension in her assistant's voice.
On the marble entryway sat a black gift box elegant, expensive, but ominous.
Elise opened it under Damien's watchful eye.
Inside:
A single black orchid.
And a note, written in delicate, expensive handwriting:
"Even fortresses have cracks." — R.C.
Ariana's breath caught involuntarily.
"Is this... a threat?"
Damien's lips barely moved.
"It's a message."
His hand closed the box with eerie calm.
"I'll respond accordingly."
The following day, Caldwell sat in one of his private clubs, watching the encrypted footage of Damien receiving his little gift.
One of his inner circle approached him.
"You think you've rattled him?"
Caldwell smiled thinly.
"No. But I've forced him to react."
He sipped his drink, eyes narrowing.
"The more he reacts, the more cracks appear. That's when people closest to him start to... reconsider their positions."
He tapped a finger on the screen, where Ariana's face was frozen mid frame.
Back in the Lancaster tower, Damien stood with Mercer reviewing new intel.
"There's someone feeding Caldwell more than just small leaks," Mercer reported.
"He's gaining information we haven't made public. He's too accurate."
Damien's gaze sharpened.
"Someone closer."
"Possibly inside your senior circle."
Damien's voice dropped, lethal and focused.
"Find them."
Later that evening, as Ariana prepared for bed, her phone vibrated again.
Another unknown number.
A text this time:
"You're starting to see it, aren't you? You deserve to know the truth. Before it's too late."
No name. No reply.
Ariana's hands trembled slightly as she deleted the message but the words burned into her mind.
In the darkness of his private study, Damien stared out over the city skyline.
For the first time, his mind wasn't only on Caldwell.
Someone else was playing this game.
And they were getting closer.
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