Chapter 75
The drive pinged softly. Lines of code scrolled across Kaitlyn’s screen as Moore’s remote bypass kicked in. Vincent stood beside her, arms folded, while Callum watched from across the study, quiet as the rain hitting the windows.
“Anything?” Callum asked.
Kaitlyn didn’t answer. Her eyes followed the data spilling out—a dozen forged transfers, all stamped with her credentials, timed with Reagen’s broadcast.
She exhaled, voice shaky. “She didn’t just drain the accounts. She rebuilt them. Same companies. Same timestamp. But this time…” She turned the screen toward Callum. Her digital signature blinked at the bottom. “She made me the architect.”
Moore’s voice came through the communication radio. “She is good. Not only did she spoof your access, she copied metadata from your old university server. That is why it looks real.”
Kaitlyn’s jaw tightened. “So even the regulators will be fooled.”
“Exactly,” Moore said. “And she is not finished. Half these files are set to go public in the next hour.”
Callum’s glass clinked against the desk as he set it down. “She is not leaking this through the courts first. She is going for a public execution.”
“Vincent,” Callum said quietly, “get Nolan to lock down external comms. Nobody in or out of Blackthorn’s gate without my word.”
Vincent nodded and left.
Kaitlyn rubbed her temples. “Once this hits the press, no one will believe me. Not the board. Not the shareholders.”
“They’ll believe you,” Callum said calmly, “because we’ll make them.”
Her eyes shot up, fierce despite the fatigue. “How?”
His lips curved. “We don’t hide. We face it head-on.”
Before Kaitlyn could speak, the manor’s screens flickered to life. Multiple monitors lit up at once. A newscaster’s voice filled the room;
“Breaking tonight—new reports tie the late Robert Hart’s company to international money laundering linked to cartel leader Santiago Cruz…”
The footage cut to blurred documents with highlighted signatures… her name, her father’s, and then a still image of Callum shaking hands with a man in a gray suit.
Kaitlyn’s heart raced. “That is not real—”
“It is Cruz,” Callum muttered, stepping forward. “But that footage is old. That meeting was years ago, before the war, before—”
Moore’s voice cut in. “They edited it. Deepfake overlays, fake timestamps. She is dragging both of you into the same story.”
The reporter continued, serious:
“Sources within the Hart board claim a hostile entity known as Blackthorn is now influencing financial decisions behind the scenes…”
Kaitlyn slammed the laptop shut. “She is making us the villains.”
Callum’s eyes were sharp. “Then we’ll play villains who bite back.”
He pulled a small key from the desk drawer. “Vincent set up a ghost server for emergencies like this. Moore, upload everything you have—every Hart archive file, every encrypted note from your father.”
Moore’s keystrokes rattled faintly over the line. “Already doing it.”
Kaitlyn hesitated. “If we release counter-evidence now, it’ll just look desperate.”
“That is why we don’t show everything,” Callum said. “Just enough to break her story. Give the press two truths that contradict her lies.”
Kaitlyn frowned. “Controlled chaos.”
He nodded slowly. “Exactly.”
Vincent returned a few minutes later. “External gates secured. But we have got drones circling. Press drones are broadcasting outside Blackthorn.”
Callum’s jaw tightened. “She is quicker than I thought.”
“She is baiting you,” Kaitlyn whispered. “If you go public, she’ll twist your words into her headlines.”
He smiled faintly. “Then maybe it is time she gets a headline she didn’t plan.”
She exhaled sharply. “You are not—”
“I am,” Callum said simply. “But not the way she expects.”
He turned to her. “You go on camera first. Moore will feed you live prompts through a secure line. You’ll confirm the vault’s existence and hint at the files Reagen didn’t want exposed. No denials. No defenses. Just the truth.”
Kaitlyn blinked. “You want me to face the press?”
“I want you to take control of the story before she decides your ending.”
Vincent looked worried. “You are putting her in the line of fire.”
“She is already there,” Callum said coldly. “This way, she has to fight back.”
Kaitlyn swallowed hard, heart pounding. She thought of her parents… Robert’s voice on the recordings, Celeste’s quiet warnings… and realized there was no turning back.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
An hour later, Kaitlyn stood before Blackthorn crest, lights and cameras, with Moore’s encrypted feed ready just off-screen.
Her reflection stared back from the monitor… steady eyes, rain-tossed hair, and a hidden battle beneath her calm surface.
Moore’s voice guided her through the headset. “Three… two… one. You are live.”
She inhaled deeply, and began.
“My name is Kaitlyn Hart. I have no intention of running from what’s being said tonight. My parents built a company that stood for transparency… and that is what I am continuing, even if it costs me everything. What is being shown right now is a manipulation of truth. There are files Reagen Drake doesn’t want the world to see… and tonight, I am releasing them.”
She clicked the console. A live feed of authentic Hart ledgers appeared, revealing real transfers Reagen had hidden behind charity fronts. The internet exploded as comments poured in, analysts scrambled, and Reagen’s clean story fell apart in minutes.
In the control room, Callum watched silently. Even through the screens, she looked unstoppable—poised, defiant, and brilliant. He realized she didn’t need him to protect her anymore. That scared him more than losing her ever could.
The feed ended. Kaitlyn stepped back, shaking slightly.
Moore’s voice whispered through the headset. “It worked. She is losing control of the story.”
But Vincent’s phone buzzed before anyone could breathe. He glanced at the screen, then looked up sharply.
“Callum… there has been an explosion downtown at Reagen’s private office.”
Kaitlyn froze. “What?”
Vincent’s face hardened. “Someone just declared a new war.”
Callum didn’t move for a long time. Then, quietly:
“She is not retreating. She is preparing.”
Kaitlyn realized—Reagen Drake wasn’t out of control. She was planning her next move.