Chapter 70 Chapter Seventy

Chapter 70 Chapter Seventy
Chapter 70

The executive floor of the Cross Group tower was usually always busy, but that morning the silence had a physical weight. Overnight, the digital landscape had fractured under the weight of Selene Voss’s televised announcement.

"The media team is assembled in the briefing room," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a low, functional murmur. "They are awaiting your final authorization."

Damian did not look up immediately. "Has Senior Counsel signed off on the distribution protocol?"

"They have," Ethan replied, placing the folder on the desk. "Every page has been vetted for liability. They are entirely confident."

Damian drew his hands apart and closed the folder with a sharp, definitive snap that seemed to echo "Good. They have been verified three times?"

"Three separate passes through independent digital forensic firms, sir," Ethan confirmed.

Damian nodded once. "Release them."

Exactly eighteen minutes later, the servers of every primary news desk, entertainment portal, and independent journalistic outlet in the country received an unencrypted, high-bandwidth data package.

The package contained high-definition, time-stamped security footage from the private elevators of the St. Regis luxury suites. It included digital flight manifests from private charters, authenticated offshore ledger transfers, and thousands of encrypted text logs recovered from the secure server Nash had abandoned.

More damning still were the long-lens photographs. They showed Selene and Nash in the shaded gardens of a private hotel. Every secret encounter had a time stamp.

The text file accompanying the massive dump of data was only two sentences long:

The assertions made recently by Ms. Selene Voss regarding the paternity of her unborn child and her relationship with Mr. Damian Cross are verifiably fraudulent. In the interest of corporate transparency and personal reputation, Cross Group has published the authenticated record of Ms. Voss’s long-standing, concealed intimacy with Mr. Nash during the period in question. Cross Group considers this private matter concluded.

At the Voss family estate, the architecture was classical, but the tension inside was modern and suffocating. Mr Voss was positioned behind his antique desk, his voice raised as he negotiated a delicate logistics contract with an overseas shipping magnate.

The heavy double doors of his study burst open. His executive secretary, a woman normally prized for her unflappable composure, stumbled into the room. Her face was gray.

"Sir—"

Mr Voss slammed his hand onto the desk, interrupting her. "I explicitly stated that this call was not to be interrupted for anything less than a fire."

"You need to look at the terminal, Mr. Voss," she whispered, her hands trembling as she extended a tablet toward him. "Now."

He cast a brief, irritated glance at the screen. He froze. His hand slowly lowered the telephone receiver back onto its cradle without saying goodbye to his client. He grabbed the tablet, his thumb flicking across the glass. One headline. Another. A downloadable PDF of bank transfers bearing his daughter’s signature.

The silence that settled into the room was absolute, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. Victor’s jaw tightened until the muscle bunched beneath his skin.

He reached out and pressed the intercom button. "Bring Selene to my study."

"Right away, sir."

"Immediately."

When Selene entered five minutes later, she carried herself with the fragile confidence of someone who believed she still held the upper hand. She managed a slight, tentative smile. "Father, the media team said we need to coordinate the noon press release—"

The tablet skittered across the polished wood of the desk, striking her fingers before coming to a rest.

"Look at it," Victor said.

Selene picked up the device. As her eyes swept the first paragraph, the blood drained from her face, leaving her features paper-white beneath her makeup. Her fingers lost their grip, the tablet rattling against the desk. "No... this isn't possible. He couldn't have..."

"It is all there," Victor said, his voice dropping into a register that was far more terrifying than a shout. "The hotels. The dates. The financial accounts you used to fund Nash’s disappearance. Every back-alley transaction you thought was hidden."

She looked up, her eyes wide with panic. "Father, I can explain this. It’s a calculated smear campaign by Damian to protect his assets…"

"Explain it then," Victor challenged, rising slowly from his chair. He seemed to dwarf the room, his shadow falling across her. "Explain the security footage from the penthouse. Explain why your signature is on the wire transfers to Nash."

"I... it wasn't supposed to go this far," she stammered, backing away until her spine hit the doorframe. "Nash promised me the servers were wiped."

Mr Voss let out a single, sharp laugh, a dry, bitter sound that held no mirth. "You trusted a thief to hide your indiscretions, and you trusted your own vanity to deceive Damian Cross." He walked around the desk, stopping mere inches from her.
"You stood before the press and tried to weaponize a pregnancy against a man who spent ten years outmaneuvering the federal government. You didn't just fail, Selene. You ruined our leverage."

Tears began to trace lines through her foundation. "I did it for the family. If we had the Cross lineage linked to us—"

"Quiet!" Voss’s voice boomed, rattling the crystal chandelier overhead. In the hallway outside, two security guards instinctively straightened, their eyes fixed forward, refusing to look through the glass.

Victor closed his eyes, inhaling slowly through his nose until the red flush left his neck. When he spoke again, his voice was a whisper that cut like glass. "Where is the boy? Where is Nash?"

Selene swallowed hard, her voice cracking. "I don't know. We had an arrangement... he was supposed to stay in the safe house outside the city."

"Call him."

She pulled her phone from her pocket, her thumb slick with sweat as she dialed. She pressed it to her ear. A long silence, followed by the electronic drone of a disconnected line. "It’s dead."

"Try the secondary line."

She dialed again. This time, it went straight to an automated voicemail system. She dropped her hand, looking at her father with a sudden, creeping dread. "He’s not answering."

Mr Voss didn't look surprised. He stepped back to his desk, picked up the landline, and dialed a direct internal extension. "Get me the director of security." A two-second pause. "Mobilize every field operative we have on the payroll. I want Nash located before the sun sets."

He listened to the response, his face hardening into granite. "I do not care about the legalities or the cost. Find him. Bring him to me. Dead or alive."

He hung up the phone with a heavy click.

Selene looked at him, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "Dad... what do you mean, 'dead or alive'? Damian wouldn't..."

"Damian Cross doesn't leave loose ends, and neither do I," Voss said coldly. "If Nash has vanished, he either fled because he knew Damian was coming for him, or Damian has already ensured he will never speak again." He turned his back to her, looking out at the iron gates of his estate. "Until I know which one it is, you will stay in this house. You are finished speaking to the world."