Walk back to your folks. Hope you don’t freeze to death,” my husband screamed, locking me out in the street in the dead of winter, wearing nothing but a thin night gown. I was already preparing to smash a window to get back inside when suddenly the elderly neighbor from the massive estate next door stepped out.

 She looked at me and said, “My son is your husband’s boss, and I own the entire company. Come with me. You’ll stay at my place tonight. by tomorrow he will be begging for mercy. But before all of this happened, there was an evening that began just like dozens of others before it. Ebony heard the car pull up well past 11:00 at night. She sat in the kitchen in silence, staring at a cup of tea that had long since gone cold.

 The door opened and Dante walked in. He was in high spirits. His cheeks were flushed from the biting Chicago frost, and his expensive wool coat smelled of someone else’s perfume. Sweet, overpowering, not hers. He tossed his keys onto the table in the foyer and walked into the kitchen, loosening the knot of his tie.

“You ain’t asleep yet?” he asked cheerfully, as if not noticing the tense silence filling the room. He opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Anything to eat? I only had some salad at the negotiation meeting. Ebony slowly raised her eyes to him. She remained silent.

 She had promised herself that tonight she would hold her tongue, that she wouldn’t ask anything, wouldn’t try to clarify anything. But the scent of that perfume was too strong, too foreign in their home. Negotiations ran late again. Her voice was quiet, devoid of emotion. “You know how it is, baby. End of the fiscal year, Dante replied, pulling out a container of leftovers from yesterday’s dinner. Reports, meetings, contracts.

 Got to close everything out before the holidays. I’m tired as a dog. He put the food in the microwave and turned to her, finally noticing her stare. What’s wrong with you now? You got a face like somebody died. 

Ebony took a deep breath. “I’m just curious, Dante. These business trips, these late night negotiations, they started happening too often. Every week, sometimes two or three times a week.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

 I’m making money, Ebony, for us, for this house, for your shopping sprees, or did you forget how that works? You haven’t worked a job in what, 7 years? That was a low blow. He always did that. When he didn’t have an argument, he reminded her that she was a housewife. A housewife she had become at his own insistence. Why do you need that dusty accounting job? That stress, he had told her back then. You keep our home.

 I want to come home and see my beautiful wife, not a tired CPA. And she had believed him. She left a brilliant career, a position as a lead auditor at a major firm, and now he threw it in her face at every opportunity. I haven’t forgotten how it works, she replied evenly. I also haven’t forgotten what financial reports look like. I saw the statement for our joint account.

 There are a lot of expenses at restaurants where you claimed you weren’t and hotel payments on days you supposedly slept at the office to finish a project. Dante stopped smiling. He slowly walked over to the table and sat opposite her. His eyes turned cold like the ice on the pavement outside. You digging through my accounts? Those are our accounts, Ebony countered. Or rather, they were.

 For the last 6 months, your salary has been going to some other account I know nothing about, and you just transfer a small allowance here for expenses. I want to know what’s going on, Dante. The microwave beeped, but no one paid it any attention. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

What’s going on? He laughed viciously. A short barking sound. What’s happening is that I work like a damn slave to support this family, this house, this lifestyle you got so used to, and you sit here all day, bored out of your mind, thinking you’re some kind of detective, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.

 It is my business.” Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to speak firmly. “I am your wife. I have a right to know where our money is going and where you spend your nights. You have the right to remain silent and be grateful,” he barked, slamming his palm on the table. The silverware rattled.

 “I am tired of your constant suspicions. I’m tired of your sour face. Maybe if you took care of yourself instead of my bank accounts, I’d want to come home earlier.” The words felt like a slap in the face. Ebony felt tears welling up, but she wouldn’t let him see them. She clenched her fists under the table. So that’s it.

It’s my fault. Who else? He stood up, looming over her. You turned into a boring, perpetually unhappy housewife. What can you give me besides complaints? The tears finally rolled down her cheeks. It was too cruel, too unfair. He wanted this. He made her this way. “I gave you everything,” she whispered.

 “I gave up my life for you.” “Then take it back,” he shouted. “Don’t like it here? Get out. The door is right there. You can go to your parents back in Georgia right now to that little shack. I wonder how you’ll explain to them why your husband ran away from you. He grabbed her by the arm.

 Ebony cried out in surprise and pain. His fingers dug into her shoulder like a vice. He was strong, much stronger than her. Let go. You’re hurting me, Dante. Let go. But he wasn’t listening. He dragged her from the table through the kitchen and into the foyer. She was barefoot, wearing only a thin silk night gown. The cold tile in the hallway burned her feet.

 She tried to resist, to break free, but his grip was iron. “What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” she screamed, but her voice drowned in his furious breathing. He yanked the front door open. A blast of freezing air hit her face. It was a true Chicago winter, a blizzard. Snow had already covered everything in a white shroud.

 You wanted to talk about money? He growled in her ear. There is no money. You wanted the truth. Here is the truth. I’m sick of you. With those words, he threw her out onto the porch. She fell onto her knees on the snow-covered steps. The cold was instant, shocking. The thin fabric of her night gown soaked through immediately and turned to ice.

 She lifted her head, unable to believe her eyes. Dante stood in the doorway. His face was twisted with malice. Walk back to your folks. Hope you don’t freeze to death,” he yelled and slammed the door. One lock clicked. Then the deadbolt. Ebony was left alone in a night gown in sub-zero temperatures.

 The silence was broken only by the howling wind. She jumped up and started pounding on the door with her fists. Dante, open up. What are you doing? Open this door right now. But there was no answer. The light in the foyer went out. He wasn’t even watching. He had simply left her to die. Panic began to give way to terror.

 She knew she wouldn’t last long in this freeze. Her bare feet could no longer feel the steps. Her skin burned from the cold. She looked around. Their gated community was quiet and respectable. All the neighbors were asleep behind high fences. Screaming for help was useless. The wind would carry her voice away.

 Her phone was in the house. Everything was in the house. Her whole life. She ran to the living room window. The curtains were drawn. She tapped then started hitting harder. Dante, please. I’m freezing. Silence. The humiliation was unbearable, but the fear of death was stronger. She had to get inside. She had to survive.

 Her gaze darted around the porch near a flower bed buried in snow. She saw it. A heavy stone garden statue she had bought in the summer. Now it was covered in frost and froze into the ground. It was her only chance. She ran to it, digging it out of the snow with her bare hands. Her fingers went numb instantly. It hurt, but she persisted stubbornly.

 Finally, she managed to tear the heavy figure from the earth. Shivering violently, she approached the window. Her teeth chattered so hard it felt like they would crack. She raised the stone above her head. Another second and she would shatter the window of her own home. She knew there would be no going back after this, but right now it didn’t matter.

 Survival was the only thing that mattered. And at the exact moment her arms began to move to bring the stone crashing down onto the glass, a sound came from nearby. The click of a lock, but not from her house. The door of the neighboring mansion, a huge place that looked like a palace and always seemed uninhabited, slowly opened.

 An elderly woman, stepped out onto the porch. She was tall, stately, with perfectly quafted silver hair. A heavy fur coat was draped over her shoulders. Ebony froze with the statue in her hands, feeling like she had been caught at a crime scene.

 It was Oilia Holloway, the owner of the entire development, a local legend, a woman everyone feared and respected. Ebony had only seen her a couple of times from a distance as she got into her massive black town car. Oilia looked at Ebony without surprise, as if she saw such a scene every day. Her gaze was sharp, piercing. She slowly descended her steps and without saying a word, walked up to Ebony.

 Then she took off her fur coat and draped it over the young woman’s trembling shoulders. The fur was incredibly warm and heavy. It smelled of expensive perfume and power. The woman took Ebony by the arm. Her grip was firm and confident. “Come,” she said quietly, but authoritatively.

 She led the stunned Ebony toward her house, casting a brief, contemptuous glance at the door behind which Dante had hidden. Ebony stumbled. Her legs were no longer obeying her. They entered a massive foyer flooded with warm light. Oilia closed the door behind them, cutting off the cold and the wind. She helped Ebony sit in a deep armchair by the fireplace. “I I my husband.

” Ebony tried to explain, but her lips wouldn’t work, and the words got stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. How to explain this shame. Oilia raised a hand, stopping her. I don’t need explanations. I know who you are. Ebony Mercer, and I know who he is, Dante Gaines. Ebony looked at her in surprise.

 How did she know their names? Oilia walked to the bar, poured some cognac into a snifter, and handed it to Ebony. Drink. That’s an order. Her tone allowed for no objections. Ebony obediently took a sip. The burning liquid scorched her throat and spread warmth through her body. Oilia watched her for a few seconds, then spoke the words that changed everything.

 My son Julian is your husband’s boss, and I am the owner of the entire company. Holloway Holdings. Ebony’s world, which had just collapsed, suddenly flipped over again. She looked at this powerful woman, and a realization slowly dawned in her eyes. This wasn’t just simple neighborly sympathy. This was something more. Oilia walked to the window and looked toward Ebony’s house, which now seemed small and pathetic.

Come, you will sleep here tonight in the guest suite, and tomorrow, she paused, and her voice became as hard as steel. Tomorrow he will be on his knees, begging for mercy. Ebony didn’t sleep all night. She lay in a massive bed in the guest room, wrapped in a silk duvet, staring at the ceiling.

 Her body had finally warmed up, but inside, everything was still frozen solid. Oilia’s words, commanding, promising revenge, echoed in her head, but brought no relief. They seemed unreal, just like everything else happening. Just yesterday evening, she was simply a wife, the mistress of her home.

 Now she was an outcast, sheltering in the mansion of the most influential woman in her husband’s life. In the morning, she was awakened by a quiet knock on the door. A maid entered, bringing coffee on a tray and a stack of clothes. Mrs. Holloway asked me to give you this, the woman said, laying out a cream colored cashmere sweater, tailored wool trousers, and soft leather loafers on the armchair. And she asked you to come down to her study as soon as you were ready.

 The clothes were expensive, of impeccable quality, and strangely enough, fit perfectly. Ebony dressed, feeling like an impostor in these luxurious foreign things. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. A pale, tired woman with feverishly bright eyes stared back, but the expensive clothes gave her a new austere look. She didn’t look like a victim anymore. It gave her strength.

 Oilia Holloway’s study was on the first floor. It was a vast room panled in dark wood with bookshelves from floor to ceiling and a massive oak desk. The lady of the house sat in a large leather chair, her back to the fireplace where logs crackled quietly. She pointed Ebony to a chair opposite her. “Sit down, Ebony.” Ebony sat on the edge, straightening her back.

 “My son will be here any minute,” Oilia announced as if discussing mail delivery. “And right after him, your husband, I want you to be present for this conversation.” Ebony’s heart pounded. To see Dante again, she wasn’t sure she was ready. I I don’t know what to say, she whispered. You don’t need to say anything, Oilia cut in. I will do the talking. Your job is simply to sit here as a living reminder of what happened.

 They sat in silence for 10 minutes. Then there was a knock at the door and a man of about 40 entered. Tall, well-dressed, but with a pale and gaunt face. He nervously adjusted his tie and approached his mother’s desk. “Mother, you called?” His voice was tense. “Yes, Julian, sit down.

” Oilia pointed to a third chair next to Ebony. Julian cast a quick, frightened glance at Ebony and immediately looked away. He sat down, trying to keep as much distance as possible. He clearly felt extremely uncomfortable. Fear of his mother was written on his face in capital letters. “Do you know who this woman is?” Oilia asked, staring point blank at her son. “Yes, mother.

 That’s Ebony, Dante Gaines’s wife,” he replied quietly. “Good that you know,” she nodded. “Because in a few minutes, Gaines himself will be here. I summoned him, too.” Julian turned even paler. “Mother, maybe we shouldn’t. This is their family business. Maybe I can talk to him myself. Manto man. You already talked to him man to man. Oilia interrupted him with an icy tone.

 And you talked until your subordinate threw his wife out into the freezing cold in a night gown. You won’t be doing any more talking. You will listen. The door opened again and the secretary announced. Mr. Dante Gaines has arrived. Let him in. Oilia ordered. Dante walked into the office with a confident smile on his face.

 He was dressed in his best suit, freshly shaved, and clearly set for an easy victory. He obviously thought he had been called in for some minor neighborly misunderstanding that he would easily smooth over with his charm. “Mrs. Holloway, Julian, good morning,” he said cheerfully. And then his gaze fell on Ebony. The smile slid off his face.

 He froze in place as if he had hit an invisible wall. Shock, disbelief, then panic. He looked from his wife, sitting in the company owner’s office in expensive clothes, to Oilia herself, whose face was like a stone mask. All his confidence evaporated in a second. He realized this wasn’t just a neighborly chat. “What? What is she doing here?” he rasped, pointing at Ebony.

 She is my guest here, Oilia replied in an even voice. But the real question is, what are you doing here, Mr. Gaines? That is a good question. I called you to inform you of one simple decision. She paused, enjoying his confusion. As of this minute, you are fired from Holloway Holdings. Dante staggered. Fired for what? for moral decay and behavior incompatible with the status of an employee of our company.

Oilia enunciated clearly. Last night you committed an act that brings honor to no man. You threw your wife out into the freezing cold. You endangered her life. Such people do not work in my company. Process all the paperwork today. Your employment record and final pay will be ready by this evening. The panic in Dante’s eyes was almost primal.

 to lose this job, this position, this income. For him, it was tantamount to death. He looked at Julian, seeking support. Julian, tell her it’s a misunderstanding. We just had a spat, a normal family argument. Ebony, tell them. But Ebony remained silent, looking at him with cold contempt.

 All her love, all her forgiveness had evaporated last night on that icy porch. Dante turned back to Oilia. His voice trembled. Mrs. Holloway, I beg you. I gave 10 years to this company. I am one of the best employees. You can’t do this over some domestic trifle. It is not a trifle. She cut him off. That is all. You are dismissed, Gaines. And then something strange happened.

 The panic on Dante’s face began to fade. It was replaced by some intense thought. and then a cold evil sneer appeared on his lips. He straightened up. The fear vanished, giving way to icy confidence. He shifted his gaze from Oilia to her son Julian, who had been sitting pressed into his chair, afraid to look up the whole time. “Fired?” Dante asked again, and new steel notes rang in his voice.

“Are you sure, Julian, that you want this?” Julian flinched and looked up at him with a frightened gaze. I don’t think you want this,” Dante continued, looking straight into his boss’s eyes. His voice was quiet, but in the deafening silence of the office, every word hit like a hammer. At least not before we finally closed the deal on the Keystone cement contract. At these words, Julian visibly twitched.

 He turned so pale his face looked like paper. He cast a hunted look at his mother, but immediately lowered it. Oilia frowned, looking from her son to Dante. Perplexity reflected on her face. She didn’t understand what was happening. What Keystone cement contract? What does that have to do with your termination? But Dante wasn’t looking at her anymore.

He was looking at his broken boss. And he knew he had won. He had the upper hand. He was the master of the situation again. The sneer on his face widened. He turned around, casually adjusted the cuffs of his expensive jacket, and headed for the exit. He didn’t say another word to Oilia or Julian.

 Passing by Ebony, he leaned in and whispered so only she could hear, “Don’t be late for dinner, wifey.” And he walked out, gently closing the door behind him. A heavy silence hung in the office. Oilia’s promise, so firm and powerful, crumbled into dust. The justice that had been so close, slipped away. Dante wasn’t crushed. He wasn’t on his knees.

 He left as a winner, leaving behind fear, confusion, and an unspoken question. What was this Keystone cement contract that gave a simple logistics manager such power over the CEO? The door clicked shut behind Dante, sounding like a gunshot in the silence. Ebony didn’t move. She stared at that door behind which her husband, her tormentor, had disappeared, and felt nothing but cold emptiness.

 His last phrase, thrown in a whisper, wasn’t just mockery. It was the order of a master, confident in his total impunity. Oilia slowly turned her head and looked at her son. Her face, previously just stern, now expressed icy disdain. Julianne shrank under that gaze. What is the Keystone cement contract? Oilia’s voice was quiet, but steel rang in it. Julian jumped up from the chair.

 He started pacing the office, fiddling with his shirt cuffs. Mother, it’s it’s a very complex contract, strategically important for the company. We are entering a new market. There are huge prospects, but big risks, too. Gaines is a key figure in these negotiations. He’s been leading the project from the start.

 If we remove him now, the deal falls through. We lose millions, tens of millions. He spoke fast, disjointedly, not looking at his mother. Anyone who knew even a little about business would realize it was a lie. A weak, unconvincing attempt to cover something else up. Ebony, a former auditor, saw right through it. Millions? Asked Oilia, who had built this empire from scratch.

You mean to tell me that our entire company, all of Holloway Holdings, depends on one logistics manager? Are you serious right now, Julian? No, of course it doesn’t depend on him. But this project, it’s very delicate, he almost pleaded. I see that it’s delicate, Oilia said slowly, never taking her eyes off him.

 So delicate that you, the CEO, are afraid of your subordinate. My son is afraid of a man who throws his wife out into the street. I am not afraid of him. Then fire him right now. Call HR and give the order. Julian froze. He stared at the phone on his mother’s desk like it was a venomous snake. He couldn’t do it. The panic on his face was so obvious that Ebony almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

 Go, Oilia said, turning away from him. Her voice was full of disappointment. Leave us. I need to talk to Ebony. Julian bolted out of the office as if he had received a long- aaited liberation. For a while, silence rained in the room again. Only the logs crackled in the fireplace. Ebony didn’t know what to do or say.

 She was just a pawn in this strange, terrible game. Finally, Oilia looked at her. Her gaze was no longer angry, but sharp, calculating. You aren’t going back to his house. It wasn’t a question, but a statement. No, Ebony answered firmly. For the first time in 24 hours, her voice didn’t tremble. Never again. Oilia nodded satisfactorily. I thought so. My son is weak.

 He is hiding something, and this gains is using it. I want to know exactly what. You used to be an auditor, Ebony. Yes, before marriage I checked up on you. Oilia raised an eyebrow. Yes, I worked in financial auditing seven years. Something stirred inside Ebony. Memories of that other life where she wasn’t just Dante’s wife, but Ebony Mercer, a respected specialist.

 That is good, Oilia said. That means you know how to look and see what others don’t. Starting tomorrow, you work for Holloway Holdings. Ebony froze in surprise. Work? Yes, I am creating a new position for you. My personal financial consultant. You will report only to me. I will give you full unlimited access to all documents, accounts, contracts, and company servers. Absolutely everything.

Your task is to find the dirt. Find the lever your husband is using to hold my son and break it. Do you agree? This was more than a job offer. It was a chance. A chance for revenge. A chance to regain her dignity. To stop being a victim and become a hunter. Yes, Ebony answered without hesitation. I agree. The next morning, Oilia’s personal driver picked Ebony up.

 He drove her to a massive modern building of glass and concrete downtown, the headquarters of Holloway Holdings. A security pass was already waiting for her at the entrance. As soon as she walked into the huge open space where dozens of employees worked, conversations began to die down. People looked at her whispering.

 She felt dozens of curious, judgmental, and even gloating gazes. Dante hadn’t wasted any time. She read it in their eyes. Here she is, Gaines’s wife, that hysterical woman he kicked out of the house. Probably drove the man to it herself. It hurt, but the anger was stronger. She walked with her head held high, looking straight ahead to the elevators leading to the executive floor.

 She was assigned a small but private office with a glass wall right next to the CEO’s reception area. Julian avoided her diligently all day. He ran past her office buried in his phone, pretending not to notice. Only around midday did the head of the IT department, a nervous young man in glasses, come in. Ms.

 Mercer, he began stumbling. Mrs. Holloway gave the order. Here are your login credentials. You have a maximum access level, full admin. You’ll see absolutely everything. If you need anything, just ask. He handed her a sealed envelope, and hurried away as if afraid of getting infected. Ebony was left alone.

 She sat at the desk, turned on the computer, and entered the password. Ignoring the hostility behind the glass wall, she immersed herself in work, into the world of numbers, contracts, and transactions, a world she once knew and loved. She started with the Keystone cement contract. Hour after hour, she studied the documents.

 At first glance, everything looked like a standard major project. Supply agreements, invoices, shipping manifests. But her trained eye began to notice oddities. Prices for gravel and rebar were inflated by 40% compared to market rates.

 Transport services were provided by some fly by night shell company registered a month ago and the cost of its services was simply astronomical. Money went to the accounts of dubious contractors and was immediately cashed out. By evening, Ebony had the full picture. The Keystone project wasn’t just a failure. It was a gigantic, wellorganized scheme to siphon money out of the company. Losses were already in the millions.

 This was more than enough to fire Dante for cause and even file a criminal case for fraud. But something didn’t add up. Julian’s fear. It didn’t look like the fear of a manager who flubbed a project. Even if his mother found out about these losses, he could blame it all on Dante. Paint himself as deceived and incompetent, but nothing more.

 No, Dante had him on the hook with something else, something personal, something shameful. The office emptied out. It got dark outside. Ebony continued to sit in front of the monitor. If the leverage wasn’t in the official documents, then it was somewhere else. She began to methodically comb through the entire corporate server. She used her admin rights to look into employees personal folders, email archives, system logs.

She searched for keywords, gains, keystone, debt, blackmail. Hours passed, her eyes aching from the strain. And then, deep in the night, in one of the system folders where ordinary users never look, she found it. A hidden directory with the unremarkable name backup 2024.

 Inside was just one file, a video file with a long name made of numbers looking like a date and time. The year was last year. Ebony’s heart beat faster. She put on the headphones she found in the desk drawer and doubleclicked the file. A video player opened.

 The image was grainy black and white shot by a surveillance camera somewhere near the ceiling. The camera showed a table in a secluded booth of an expensive restaurant. Julian sat at the table. He was looking around nervously, constantly checking his watch. A minute later, another man walked into the booth, someone Ebony didn’t know. He looked very confident. The men exchanged brief greetings.

 The stranger opened his briefcase and took out something wrapped in dark cloth. He placed it on the table. Then he said something to Julian, pointing at the bundle. Julian hesitated. He looked at the bundle, then at his companion. Finally, he nodded slowly. He took the bundle and quickly hid it in his briefcase. The men shook hands, and the stranger left.

 Ebony rewound the video and paused it at the moment the camera showed a closeup of the second man’s face. She took a screenshot and ran the image through a search engine. A second later, she knew who it was. It was the commercial director of their main and most ruthless competitor in the construction market. And then she noticed one more detail.

 In the corner of the screen was the date and time of the recording. Almost exactly a year ago, two days before Holloway Holdings inexplicably lost the tender for the development of an entire district, a tender won by that very competitor’s company. Everything fell into place. It was a bribe, a huge cash bribe.

 CEO Julian Holloway sold his company out and Dante Gaines somehow got this recording and had been sitting on it for a whole year like a spider on a fly, slowly sucking millions out of the company through dummy projects, knowing his boss wouldn’t make a peep. He had him completely under his control. Ebony leaned back in her chair. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead.

 She looked at Julian’s frozen face on the screen, hiding the briefcase with the bribe, and realized everything was much worse than she thought. Her enemy wasn’t just a cruel tyrant husband. Her enemy was this entire rotten system built on fear, weakness, and betrayal. And Oilia Holloway didn’t even have a clue. Ebony sat in the empty, echoing office, looking at the screen where Julian Holloway’s face was frozen.

 She copied the video file to a flash drive she found in the desk drawer, then deleted the original from the folder and wiped the history of her actions on the server. The instinct of the former auditor worked flawlessly. Secure the evidence first. She turned off the computer and stood up. Her legs felt like cotton.

 One thought pounded in her head. It wasn’t about the money. The Keystone deal was just a smokeokc screen, a curtain behind which Dante hid the real blackmail material. He wasn’t just stealing money. He held the CEO, the owner’s son, by the throat. Julian wasn’t just weak, he was corrupt. He Ebony took the first morning taxi she could call back to Ailia’s mansion. She didn’t wake the lady of the house.

 She went quietly to her guest room and lay down, but sleep wouldn’t come. She lay with her eyes open, and the silent scene of the bribe played over and over before her. Now she understood everything, understood Julian’s primal fear, understood Dante’s arrogant sneer.

 He was invulnerable because he was covered by the one person who should have punished him. She got up, showered, and put on the strict foreign clothes again. She had to decide what to do next. Show this video to Oilia. That would mean destroying Julian. not just firing him, but possibly sending him to prison. It would cause a monstrous scandal that could shake all of Holloway Holdings.

 The company’s reputation would be destroyed. What would happen to hundreds of ordinary employees then? And if she stayed silent, then Dante would continue to pump money out of the company with impunity, hiding behind Julian’s fear. He would remain her husband, continue to torment her, knowing she couldn’t do anything. No, that option was impossible. She went down to breakfast.

Oilia was already sitting at the table reading a newspaper. She raised a penetrating gaze to Ebony. “Find anything?” she asked directly. “I found a lot of discrepancies in the Keystone Cement documents. Losses are in the millions. That is enough for termination and an investigation,” Ebony replied cautiously. Oilia put down the newspaper. “I am not asking about that.

 Did you find the reason why my son is afraid of him? Ebony hesitated for a moment. “I think I need to speak with Julian first,” she said finally. “Oneonone.” Oilia looked at her intently, then nodded. “Fine, proceed.” Back at the office, Ebony summoned Julian to her office through his secretary. Not her going to him, but him coming to her. That was important.

 The secretary raised her eyebrows in surprise but conveyed the request. 5 minutes later, Julian walked into her office, closing the door tightly behind him. His face was tense. “Is it urgent?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound official. Ebony silently inserted the flash drive into her laptop, turned the screen toward him, and played the video.

 For the first few seconds, Julian looked at the screen with bewilderment. Then his face began to change. Recognition, shock, horror. He watched his own hand on the screen take the bundle of money. The color drained from his face. He turned white as a sheet.

 He opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t make a sound. The video ended. Silence hung in the office. It’s It’s a fake. Deep fake, he finally rasped. His voice trembled. Don’t waste my time, Julian,” Ebony replied calmly. “I spent seven years in auditing. I can tell a montage from the original. I want to hear the truth.

” “How did this recording get to Dante?” Julian collapsed into a chair, clutching his head in his hands. His shoulders shook. The CEO of a multi-million dollar company was crying in the office of a woman whose husband had thrown her into the snow two days ago. It was a mistake. One single mistake. I swear, he mumbled through sobs.

 I had problems back then, big personal debts, and this contract. It was so important. They approached me themselves, made the offer. I thought no one would ever know. I was an idiot. He looked up at her with red, swollen eyes. I don’t know how he found out. Maybe someone from the restaurant staff. Maybe he was tracking me himself. I don’t know.

 But a month later, he came to me, put a flash drive on the desk, and said, “Now we’re going to work a new way.” And that was it. I was trapped. He started bringing me these fake invoices for Keystone Cement to sign. At first, the amounts were small, then bigger and bigger. I knew he was stealing, but I couldn’t do anything.

 If mother found out, she would destroy me. She would never forgive me. He spoke for a long time, disjointedly, dumping all his pain, fear, and humiliation on her. He told her how Dante mocked him, how he forced him to sign documents, how he enjoyed his power. Keystone cement was a cover for the money Dante extorted from him for silence. He wasn’t just stealing from the company.

 He was collecting a fee for hiding the CEO’s betrayal. When he finished, Ebony was silent for a long time. Her anger at this man was replaced by squeamish pity. He was weak and stupid, and now he was paying for it. But his weakness was destroying her life, too. Get up, she said quietly. And go to work. I’ll think about what to do.

He left, leaving her alone with this terrible secret. Now she knew everything. But what did it give her? She held Julian’s fate in her hands, but her own fate was still in Dante’s hands. Dante apparently sensed the noose tightening around his neck. He realized Ebony wasn’t just drinking coffee in the office. and he struck back.

 During her lunch break, Ebony decided to stop by the nearest bank to withdraw some cash. She didn’t have a penny on her. All her things remained at home. She handed the teller the bank card she shared with Dante. Enter your PIN, the teller said. Ebony entered it. The teller looked at the monitor for a few seconds. I’m sorry, insufficient funds.

 How is that insufficient? Ebony was surprised. Check again, please. There should be The girl turned the monitor toward her. The screen showed the numbers. Balance $0. All funds were withdrawn from the account this morning, cleared out, the teller said sympathetically. Ebony felt the ground fall out from under her. He did it. He left her penniless.

 She walked out of the bank feeling humiliated. This wasn’t just a financial blow. It was a message. You are nothing without me. You have nothing. She returned to the office angry and devastated. He wanted to break her, but he achieved the opposite. Now she had no doubts. She would go to Oilia and show her everything. Let there be a scandal. Let everything collapse.

 She would no longer allow herself to be trampled by him or anyone else. She was about to go to the owner’s office when suddenly her cell phone rang. The number was blocked, but she knew who it was. It was her parents’ home number from back in Georgia, a thousand miles away.

 “Mama,” she answered, and her soul warmed a little. Her mom’s voice was what she needed right now. But instead of the usual warm greeting, she heard a strangled sob on the line. “Ebony, baby, what happened? What did you do?” “Mama, what’s wrong? Calm down. Explain.” Ebony worried. “Dante called me,” her mother said, choking back tears.

 “He told me everything. Oh Lord, what a disgrace! How could you, Ebony? Your father and I didn’t raise you like this. Ebony froze, not understanding. What did he tell you? Mama, he he said you’re cheating on him. Her mother screamed.

 That you got another man and he poor thing put up with it until the end and then then he kicked you out. Lord, our whole family is disgraced. What will people say? Ebony listened, and an icy cold shackled her from the inside. a cold more terrible than that night on the porch. It was a betrayal she hadn’t expected. He didn’t just strip her of money, he stripped her of the last thing, her family’s support.

 He poisoned the only source where she could find comfort with the venom of his lies. “Mama, that’s not true,” she whispered. But her voice was barely audible. “Not true,” her mother sobbed even louder. He was so broken up, suffering so much. He said he’s ready to forgive you if you come to your senses. Ebony baby, I’m begging you. Be wiser.

Call him. Ask for forgiveness. You have to save the family. No matter what the husband is like, you have to preserve the family honor. Ebony stood silent, holding the phone to her ear. She heard her mother’s crying, begging her to apologize to the man who had almost killed her. And in that moment, she realized she was absolutely alone. In the whole world, she had no one left.

Dante had won. He had isolated her completely. Ebony slowly lowered the phone. She didn’t cry. The tears had run out. Her mother’s sobbs, begging her to save the honor of the family, sounded like a death sentence for her past life. There, back in that small town in Georgia, she had already been judged and buried.

 Her mother’s betrayal, blindly believing the lie, was the final blow that didn’t break her, but instead forged something new inside her, hard and cold as steel. Now there was no one left to disappoint or offend. There was nothing left to save, only scorched earth, and on this earth stood her enemy.

 She stood up, walked to the window of her temporary office, and looked down at the people rushing along the street. They hurried about their business, living their lives, unaware of the wars being waged behind the glass walls of corporate buildings. Her war had stopped being personal. It was no longer just a quarrel between a cheated wife and an unfaithful husband.

 Now she was fighting Julian’s weakness, her own family’s judgment, and the lies Dante had so skillfully woven around her. To win, she needed a weapon. an irrefutable weapon that would destroy him completely without hurting those guilty only of cowardice. The video of the bribe was such a weapon, but too dirty.

 It could explode in her own hands, burying the entire company under the rubble. No, she would go another way, a cleaner, more professional way. She walked resolutely out of the office and headed to Oilia. The owner of the holding company was in her office sorting through some papers. She looked up and Ebony realized she had been waiting for her. Mrs. Holloway, I checked everything.

 Ebony began in an even business-like tone that held no hint of yesterday’s victim. Dante is stealing systematically and on a massive scale. The entire Keystone Cement Project is a fiction created solely to cover up embezzlement. Oilia listened silently. Her face remained impenetrable. and my son. Julian knows about it,” Ebony replied, carefully choosing her words. “But he’s afraid to stop him.

Dante has something on him. I don’t know exactly what, but this blackmail has completely paralyzed Julian’s will. He is his hostage.” That was a partial truth, the safest part of it. She saw Oilia’s lips tremble at the words, “Son is a hostage.” Maternal pain mixed with the fury of a deceived owner. Let me continue, Ebony said firmly.

 I need to find not just indirect evidence in the invoices. I need to find the end point where exactly the stolen money goes. I will find the account he is siphoning it to. I will provide you with evidence that cannot be disputed. Oilia looked at her for a long minute.

 She saw before her not a crushed woman, but a focused, angry professional, and this professionalism commanded her respect. Good, she finally said, “Find it. You have full authority.” Returning to her office, Ebony immersed herself in work with renewed energy. She pushed aside all emotions. Now it was just a task, complex, but doable. She opened the Keystone Cement files again and began to untangle the knot.

 She tracked every payment sent to the shell companies. Then using her admin rights, she entered the banking client system through which all the holding company’s financial transactions passed. She pulled up archives and saw the whole chain. Money went to shell company accounts and within a few hours, sometimes minutes, was broken down into smaller sums and transferred further. She worked without a break, forgetting about food and time.

 By the evening of the second day, she found what she was looking for. All the threads, all these trickles of stolen money eventually merged into one stream. They flowed into the same account at a small commercial bank that had nothing to do with Holloway Holdings’s activities. The same account number again and again.

 But who did the account belong to? The bank wouldn’t just give her that information. She could have asked Oilia to use her connections or security service, but she wanted to see this through herself. She copied the account number and launched a global search across the entire internal company network.

 All documents, all databases, all files stored on servers for years. She was looking for any mention of this combination of 20 digits. The search lasted almost an hour and when the result appeared on the screen, Ebony’s heart skipped a beat. A single document was found. It was an employee form from HR filled out 3 years ago.

 In the additional information section, the employee requested a portion of their salary be transferred to the specified account as voluntary contributions to savings insurance. The account number matched down to the last digit. Ebony opened the personnel file. A pretty young woman with a confident smile looked back at her from the photo.

 Tasha Fennel, 30 years old, regional sales manager. Tasha Fennel. Ebony immediately started looking up all information on her. She pulled up her business trip reports, expense reports, official correspondence, and the picture began to clear. Tasha’s business trips miraculously coincided in dates and cities with Dante’s work trips. Those very hotel bills Ebony found in their family statements were paid on the same days Tasha Fennel was in the same city.

The sweet smell of foreign perfume on his coat. Everything fell into place. She wasn’t just an accomplice. She was his mistress. Anger scorched Ebony from the inside, but she forced herself to work on coldly and methodically. She began tracking Tasha in real time. In the internal systems, she saw when she arrived at work, what tasks she performed.

 The next day, Tasha didn’t show up at the office. Ebony checked the time tracking system and saw that Fennel had taken a personal day off. This was what Ebony was waiting for. She couldn’t sit in the office anymore. She had to see everything with her own eyes. She called a taxi and gave Tasha’s home address, which she found in her file. It was an apartment in a nice new building.

Ebony asked the driver to park across the street where there was a good view of the entrance. She paid him for several hours of waiting. She waited. 1 hour 2. She didn’t know exactly what she was waiting for, but her intuition told her she was on the right track. Finally, the entrance door opened.

 Tasha came out. She was wearing a loose coat, but even it couldn’t hide a slightly rounded belly. Tasha didn’t walk toward the bus stop. She headed to a small square and sat on a bench checking something on her phone. 10 minutes later, a taxi pulled up. Tasha got in and drove off. Ebony ordered her driver to follow her. Just keep your distance. The chase was short.

 Tasha’s car stopped at a private medical center. The sign read in large letters, “CL clinic for reproductive health and family medicine.” Ebony asked the driver to stop a little further down the street and waited again. Time dragged painfully slow. She stared at the clinic doors and an icy lump grew in her chest. It took about an hour before the doors opened again. Tasha came out onto the porch. She no longer looked tense.

 There was a happy, peaceful smile on her face. In one hand, she held a small folder and in the other several photographs she was examining with tenderness. Even at a distance, Ebony understood what they were. Ultrasound scans. And at that moment, a familiar black SUV pulled up slowly to the clinic porch. Her SUV, the car Dante called the family car.

 Dante was behind the wheel. He didn’t notice the taxi parked in the distance. He was looking only at Tasha. He killed the engine, got out of the car, and walked up to her. He hugged her carefully, tenderly, and then placed his hand on her belly. Ebony hadn’t seen such a gentle, caring look from him in years.

Tasha said something to him, laughing, and showed the pictures. He took them, examined them closely, and his face broke into a happy smile such as Ebony hadn’t seen on him ever, not even on their wedding day. He kissed her, then put his hand on her belly again and whispered something. They got in the car and drove away.

 Ebony sat motionless watching them go. She couldn’t breathe. She understood everything. It wasn’t just deception, not just an affair. He wasn’t just stealing money for himself. He was building a new life, a new family with a new woman who was carrying his child. And she, Ebony, was just an obstacle in this scheme, an old, annoying thing that needed to be disposed of.

 and he got rid of her in the crulest way, throwing her out into the freezing cold. He didn’t do it in a fit of anger. He was clearing space for his new happy life. And there was no place for her in that life. The taxi driver coughed, breaking the silence in the warm car. “Where to now?” he asked, looking at Ebony in the rear view mirror.

 She stared straight ahead at the spot on the road where her husband’s black SUV had just disappeared. Inside her there were no tears, no despair. The pain that was tearing her apart a minute ago crystallized, turning into something else, a cold, calm, all-consuming rage. He didn’t just betray her. He was erasing her systematically and ruthlessly, clearing the sight for his new life built on her ruins.

 To the office. Her voice sounded unfamiliar, hollow and hard, and fast. Please. She was silent the whole way, replaying in her head not the scene of his tenderness with his mistress, but numbers, invoices, and names of shell companies. The personal vanished. Only the work remained, the task, the investigation she had to see through to the end.

 Now she knew she wasn’t just looking for stolen money. She was looking for funds invested in the foundation of her husband’s new family, and she would rip that foundation out by the roots. Returning to the empty office, she worked with doubled feverish energy. Now that she knew the accomplice’s name, everything became simpler. She opened Tasha Fennel’s personnel file again.

Regional sales manager, modest salary, standard benefits package. But in the financial documents linked to her, something unimaginable was happening. Ebony started with expense reports. Dozens of reports over the last year and a half. Trips to cities where Holloway Holdings didn’t even have interests. Attached receipts from hotels with inflated prices.

 Restaurant bills for amounts comparable to her monthly salary. And on every report, on every receipt was an approving signature, the signature of the head of logistics, Dante Gaines. He personally approved all these fake expenses, but those were pennies. Pocket change. The real theft went through another scheme.

 Ebony found dozens of contracts for consulting services concluded between Holloway Holdings and Tfennel Consulting. Tasha, it turned out, was also a sole proprietor. She supposedly consulted her own company on logistical market analysis. Absurd. The acts of completed work were hastily drawn up without any specifics. Analysis conducted, report prepared, and under each act, two signatures, provider, fennel, customer, accepting work on behalf of Holloway Holdings, gains.

 He was paying her company money for non-existent services, tens, hundreds of thousands of dollars every month. It was a brazen, primitive scheme, but it worked because Julian’s fear covered it. No auditor, no financial controller would dare question a deal approved personally by the logistics chief and protected by the CEO’s silence. Ebony gathered all these documents into a separate folder. There was already enough evidence to send both Dante and his pregnant mistress to court. But she felt that wasn’t all.

These were just streams. Where did the river flow? They couldn’t just be stuffing millions in cash under a mattress. This money had to be working, had to be building that new life. She switched her attention from financial documents to communications. Using her administrative access, she gained full entry to Tasha’s corporate email and everything stored on her work computer.

 She started by searching for keywords, account, transfer, purchase, real estate, nothing. They were smart enough not to discuss that in work emails. Then Ebony went deeper. She launched a file recovery program on Tasha’s network drive to find deleted files. It was a long process.

 Hour after hour, a green bar crawled across the screen while Ebony watched it unblinkingly. And late at night, the program finished. A list of hundreds of deleted documents appeared before her. old reports, useless presentations, personal photos. She began methodically reviewing everything in order, and she found it. At the very end of the list was an inconspicuous file deleted more than 6 months ago, a word document titled bylaws. With trembling fingers, she opened it. It was a standard LLC operating agreement.

 The company name was fresh, unfamiliar. Horizon Build and Supply. Ebony quickly punched the name into the state business registry. The company was registered eight months ago. Field of activity construction and installation works, a direct competitor to Holloway Holdings.

 The founder and CEO was listed as a Basil Peters, a name that meant nothing to her, a straw man without a doubt. But the most interesting part was in the draft. In the draft of the bylaws, she found in the section on founders were two names that were obviously later replaced by the fake Peters. First, Fennel Tasha. Second, Gaines Dante. There it was. Betrayal in its highest, ugliest form.

 He wasn’t just stealing money. He wasn’t just cheating on her. He was using Oilia Holloway’s resources, her money, her position to build a competing firm from scratch. He wasn’t just a thief. He was a parasite slowly devouring his host from the inside to grow his own offspring. In Ebene’s mind, everything clicked into a single monstrous picture.

 She started checking further, already knowing what to look for. She accessed the Holloway Holdings client database and compared it with the list of contracts Horizon Build and Supply managed to secure in these few months. She found this information on a public procurement site.

 Several small but profitable clients of Holloway Holdings had recently terminated their contracts and gone to the new unknown firm Horizon. He was poaching clients. Then she checked HR. In the last 6 months, three leading project engineers had resigned from Holloway Holdings. Talented guys Oilia herself valued. Official reason, personal reasons.

 Ebony spent another hour and found their new workplaces via LinkedIn. All three were now working at Horizon Build and Supply. He wasn’t just poaching clients. He was poaching the best talent. He was sucking the life, blood, and brains out of the company. And then it hit her. She remembered the conversations she heard in the office corridors in recent days.

Everyone was discussing the same event, Holloway Holdings failure in a major state tender for the construction of a new residential complex. It was the project of the year, the juiciest piece. Everyone was sure of victory and suddenly defeat. Officially, it was announced that the Holloway bid was rejected for technical reasons, some error in the documents.

 Julian had raged and stormed, tearing into the whole department. But it was too late. And who won the tender? A young, bold company offering slightly better terms. A company called Horizon Build and Supply. Ebony gasped. She rushed to the corporate server archive to the section with tender documentation. She found the folder with that lost project.

 She opened the list of responsible persons for the preparation and final submission of the entire package. One person was responsible. Project manager Dante Gaines. Ebony began reviewing hundreds of pages of the application. Everything was perfect. Calculations, blueprints, estimates. She began to think it was just a monstrous coincidence. But she didn’t stop.

 She opened the last most important part, the bank guarantee confirming the company’s financial solveny. The document was there. Signatures of all financial directors were there. But on the last page, where the company seal and the CEO’s final signature should have been, it was blank. The page was clean. In the scan sent to the competition, the most important page was missing.

 It wasn’t an accidental mistake. It was deliberate sabotage. He didn’t just steal the victory from the company where he worked. He personally gutted the application so it would be guaranteed to lose. He sabotaged his own company to give a multi-million dollar contract to a firm created with money stolen from that very company. Ebony leaned back in her chair.

 A ringing sound filled her ears. She looked at the empty page in the tender file, and that emptiness spoke louder than any words. This was the end, the final stroke in the picture of total betrayal. She stood up, copied everything she found onto the same flash drive where the bribe video was stored, and without turning off the computer, walked out of the office. It was almo

st 6:00 a.m. In a few hours, the office would fill with people, but she needed to act immediately. She arrived at the mansion just as the sun began to paint the sky. Oilia, contrary to expectations, was awake. She sat in the living room by the fireplace, wrapped in a shawl, watching the fire. It seemed she was waiting. “Tell me,” she said without turning her head when Ebony entered the room. Ebony approached and silently handed her the flash drive.

“Better I show you.” They went into the study. Ebony inserted the drive into Ailia’s laptop and began her report. She spoke calmly, without emotion, like reporting to a board of directors, as if all this concerned strangers, not her. First, she showed the video. Oilia watched the screen where her son took the bribe, and her face turned to stone.

Not a single muscle twitched. She watched to the end, and when the desktop reappeared on the screen, she said quietly, “Continue.” Then Ebony opened the folder with financial documents, Tasha’s fake expense reports, fake consulting contracts, payments going to her personal account. That was proof of embezzlement and the affair. Oilia again didn’t say a word.

 She just watched, and in her eyes, previously just stern, ice was forming. Then Ebony opened the bylaws of Horizon Build and Supply, the draft with Dante and Tasha’s names, and next to it, the registry extract where the straw man was listed. Proof of creating a competing firm with stolen money. Here is the list of clients they poached.

 Ebony opened the next file, and here is the list of engineers he took from your company. The ice in Oilia’s eyes grew thicker. A palpable chill filled the room. “And the last thing,” Ebony said, and her voice trembled for the first time. She opened the tender application, showed the perfect project, and then the final file sent to the contest with a blank page instead of the crucial document. “He did this himself.

 He personally sabotaged the deal of the year to give it to his company.” She finished. A dead silence hung in the office. Only the crackling logs in the fireplace were audible. Oilia was silent for a long time, staring at the screen. It seemed she had stopped breathing. Then she slowly turned her head to Ebony. The rage frozen in her eyes was so intense that Ebony felt scared.

 This wasn’t just the anger of a deceived businesswoman. It was the fury of a matriarch whose family, whose legacy, whose life’s work someone had tried to trample and destroy from within. The annual builder’s gala,” she said finally. Her voice sounded like grinding glaciers. “It is in 3 days.” Ebony didn’t understand why she was saying this.

 “Yes, I know he will be there,” Oilia continued standing up. “He will definitely come. He’ll come to enjoy his triumph, to look into the eyes of my son, whom he keeps on a leash, to laugh at our loss in the tender. He will come to revel in his victory.” She walked to the window and looked at the sunrise and he will be destroyed. She turned around. There was no more ice in her eyes.

 Fire blazed there. You will prepare a presentation, Ebony. Short, clear, lethal with all this evidence. We aren’t going to the police. Not now. First, there will be the court of public opinion. You will show this at the gala in front of the entire board of directors, in front of all top managers, in front of the company’s best employees, in front of everyone whose respect he values so much.

 We will destroy not only his business, we will grind his reputation, his name into dust. For the next two days, Ebony didn’t leave the guest room. She worked on the presentation. She selected the most crushing evidence, arranging it in a logical chain that was impossible to dismiss. First, the video with the bribe explaining why all this became possible.

 Then the financial fraud, then the creation of the competing firm, and finally the sabotage of the tender as the apotheiois of betrayal. Each slide was like a nail driven into the coffin of his career. The evening before the gala, there was a knock on her door. It was Julian. He obviously already knew about his mother’s plan.

 He was pale as death, and his hands were shaking. “Ebony, I beg you,” he whispered, entering and closing the door tightly. “Don’t do this. Please, let’s resolve everything quietly. We’ll fire him. File a police report, but not this public scandal.” “Why?” Ebony asked coldly, not looking up from her work. it it will kill the company’s reputation and the video.

 If everyone sees that video, he fell silent, unable to finish the sentence. “You should have thought about the company’s reputation when you took money from competitors.” Ebony cut him off. “I know I’m guilty,” he almost shouted. “But understand this will be a disaster for everyone. Think maybe there is another way.” “There is no other way,” she said firmly.

 He must answer for everything and he will answer publicly. Julian looked at her with despair and horror. He realized she couldn’t be dissuaded. He turned and silently left the room. Ebony watched him go and returned to her laptop. The presentation was almost ready. Just needed to add a few final touches, check everything one more time. She worked late into the night.

 Finally, around 2 a.m. she decided everything was ready. Perfect. Tomorrow would be the end. She saved the file, closed the laptop, and went to the bathroom to wash her face before sleep. When she returned 5 minutes later, the screen of her cell phone lying on the table lit up with a new message from Dante. Her heart skipped a beat. She picked up the phone. The message was short. Nice try, babe.

Julian just gave me everything. You should have stayed in the snow. A chill ran down her spine. She didn’t understand what gave me everything meant. She rushed to the laptop, opened it, entered the password. The desktop was there. She found the folder with the presentation, opened it, and saw the folder was empty.

 She started feverishly checking other directories, the recycle bin. Everything was erased. She logged onto the company server into her work folder. Empty. She opened her email where she sent drafts. empty. All files, all evidence she had been collecting for days disappeared. Her laptop had been remotely wiped completely.

 She sat staring at the blank screen. Julian, he didn’t just beg her. He betrayed her again. He got scared of public shame, ran to Dante, and gave him everything. Information about the upcoming exposure, passwords, access. He made a deal with the devil to save his own skin. And now she had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Tomorrow was the gala where a triumphant Dante would arrive knowing she was unarmed. Her defeat was total. Ebony sat staring at the blank laptop screen. The phone with the message from Dante lay on the table like a poisonous snake. The silence in the luxurious guest bedroom pressed down, thickening, turning into a sticky, viscous terror. This new betrayal was worse.

 Much worse than the first one on the snow-covered porch. Dante was an enemy. Open, cruel, understandable. But Julian, he was an ally in misfortune, a fellow hostage of the situation. His action was a stab in the back that felt like a final total defeat. He didn’t just help Dante. He crossed out all her efforts, all her pain, all her struggle.

 He showed her that she was alone against the two of them. She slowly closed the laptop lid. Inside, everything was burned to ashes. There was no anger, no desire to fight further, only a deaf, all-consuming void. She lost. Lost before the battle even began. Like in a dream, she stood up and left the room.

 Her legs carried her through the quiet, sleeping house. She didn’t know why she was going. Maybe just to tell Oilia that it was over, that her plan failed because of her own son’s cowardice. The door to the owner’s study was a jar. A strip of light spilled from under it. Ebony knocked softly and entered. Oilia wasn’t asleep.

She sat in her armchair wearing a severe house coat reading a book. She looked up and there was not a drop of surprise in her gaze. “Everything is gone,” Ebony whispered. Her voice wouldn’t obey her. Julian betrayed us. She walked to the desk and placed her phone with Dante’s open message in front of Oilia.

 Oilia picked up the phone, brought it to her eyes, and read the short text carefully. Then she calmly placed it back on the table. Her face reflected neither anger nor disappointment. “Nothing.” I knew my son was a coward, she said in an even quiet voice, but I didn’t think he was a fool. Ebony looked at her, not understanding. This calm was scarier than any scream.

 He gave him everything, Ebony said, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “All files are erased. We have nothing left. Tomorrow he will come to this gala as a winner, and we can’t do anything.” Oilia looked at her as if Ebony were a child who didn’t understand obvious things. Did you really think I would entrust such important evidence, the fate of my entire company, to a single laptop connected to a common network? Ebony froze.

 The very day you first sat at the computer in the office, Oilia continued. I gave an order to the head of my personal security service. These are people who report only to me, not to my son or anyone else. They installed a system that mirrored every action you took in real time. Every file opened and saved. Everything you found was instantly copied to a secure offline server located not even in this city.

She paused, letting Ebony realize what was said. All evidence, Ebony, is perfectly safe. Every document, every screenshot, and of course, the video recording. Ebony felt dizzy. Hope so weak and timid began to break through the thick layer of despair. But then why? Why Julian? Why did he do it? Why tell Dante and help erase everything? And here Oilia allowed herself a slight cold sneer. It was the smile of a general looking at a battle already won.

That, my dear, was my plan, the main part of it. She stood up and walked to the bar, pouring some water into two glasses. She handed one to Ebony. Our enemy, your husband, is an arrogant and self- assured man, but not stupid. If he felt a real threat, felt we were preparing a public execution for him, what would he do? Ebony thought.

 He wouldn’t come to the gala. He’d run, try to hide the money, destroy documents. Exactly. Oilia nodded. He would go to ground and we would have to smoke him out of his hole for months through courts and police. That is long, messy, and ineffective. No, I needed him to come to the chopping block himself, happy, relaxed, and absolutely sure of his victory. We needed him to feel not like a victim, but like a conqueror.

 She took a sip of water. My son’s fear was our main problem. I decided to make it our main weapon. Yesterday evening, after he begged you to cancel everything, he came to me. He was in a panic. I realized the moment had come. Oilia looked Ebony straight in the eye. I told him I spoke with Dante and that Dante allegedly bragged to me that he has a second backup copy of the bribe video, that even if we destroy the first one, he will still hold him on the hook for the rest of his life, and after a scandal would definitely use the second

copy out of revenge. Ebony listened, holding her breath. She began to understand the diabolical logic of this plan. My son panicked even more, Oilia continued. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, between my plan for public exposure and the threat of lifelong blackmail from Dante. And then I offered him a way out. I ordered him, “Go to him,” I said. “Go to your master.

Pretend you have finally and irrevocably crossed to his side. Tell him about my plan. Say you are terrified and want to help him. Give him access to Ebony’s laptop so he can wipe everything himself and be sure all evidence is destroyed. Earn his total trust. Make him believe the danger has passed, that he has defeated us.

 Ebony looked at this elderly woman with a feeling close to sacred terror. His visit to you, his please, that was all part of the act. His betrayal was not betrayal. For the first time in many years, my son did exactly what his mother ordered him to do.

 He played his role, and the message Dante sent you is not proof of your defeat, Ebony. It is proof that our trap worked perfectly. She walked to her desk, picked up a thin folder, and handed it to Ebony. The presentation is ready. My people made it based on your materials. Everything is here in the correct sequence. Tomorrow you will go up on stage and press the button. Ebony took the folder. Her hands no longer trembled. Despair vanished without a trace.

 In its place was an icy, ringing emptiness and absolute readiness. The trap was set. The beast, drunk on his victory, was walking straight into it. Ebony held the thin folder, and it didn’t seem heavy to her. It was light, like a verdict. She didn’t sleep all night, but there was no fatigue. Instead, a cold, ringing calm settled inside. She wasn’t just a guest, not just a victim, not just an avenger.

She was an instrument, a perfectly sharpened weapon in the hands of a woman who never lost. The banquet hall of the city’s best hotel was magnificent. Huge crystal chandeliers flooded hundreds of guests in evening gowns and expensive suits with light. A live orchestra played. Waiters circulated with champagne.

 It was the triumph of Holloway Holdings, a celebration of strength and success, even despite the recent unfortunate loss of the tender. Ebony walked into the hall with Oilia. She wore an elegant, severe gown of deep burgundy color provided by the hostess. She stayed behind Oilia, remaining in her shadow. All eyes, of course, were fixed on the matriarch, but some recognized Ebony and began whispering.

She felt their gazes, but paid them no mind. Today they were just scenery to her. Dante was in the center of the room. He was the king of the evening. He laughed, accepted congratulations, shook hands. Many approached him and patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. Don’t worry about that, tender Dante.

You did everything you could. We know how much effort you put into it.” And he nodded with a grateful, modest smile, a Judas smile. At some point, their eyes met. He saw her standing next to Oilia. Surprise flashed across his face, followed by a contemptuous, triumphant sneer.

 He left his conversation partners and walked straight toward her with a leisurely swagger. Oilia had stepped away to speak with someone from the board of directors, leaving Ebony alone. Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said quietly, stepping close. He smelled of expensive cologne and success. “Decided to come see how real people live?” Ebony remained silent, looking him straight in the eye. Her calm seemed to unsettle him.

 He expected fear, tears, humiliation. “Cat got your tongue?” he hissed. “Right, you got nothing to say. By the way, I’d tell you to go home, but you don’t have one. It was his last word, the last drop of poison. But it didn’t work. Ebony just smiled slightly. That smile, calm and a little sad, threw him off. He frowned, trying to understand what was happening, but it was too late. The music faded.

 The host walked onto the stage and announced that the traditional speech would now be given by the founder and owner of the company, Oilia Holloway. The hall applauded. Oilia slowly ascended the stage, approached the podium, and swept the guests with a heavy commanding gaze. The applause died down. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, colleagues.

 Her voice amplified by the microphone carried across the hall. Every year on this day, we celebrate our achievements. But today, I want to speak not of the past, but of the future. This year, the future of our company was saved. And it was saved not by me and not by the board of directors, but by the intelligence, courage, and diligence of one woman.

 She paused, and everyone in the hall froze in bewilderment. Ebony Mercer, please come up to the stage. Hundreds of heads turned toward Ebony. A bewildered silence hung in the hall. Dante, standing nearby, froze with his mouth half open. He watched as his wife, whom he had thrown out into the freezing cold just days ago, walked calmly and confidently toward the stage under the gaze of the city’s entire elite. Ebony walked up the stairs.

 Oilia nodded silently to her and stepped aside, leaving her alone at the podium. In Ebene’s hand was a small remote for the projector. She pressed the button. The huge screens on the sides of the stage, which had previously displayed the company logo, came to life, and the first slide to appear was not a greeting, but a blownup photograph of Dante Gaines’s signature under one of the fake acts of work performed for T. Fennel Consulting.

 A murmur of confusion ran through the hall. Dante turned pale. Ebony pressed the button again. Next slide. The screens went dark and a video began. grainy, black and white, a restaurant booth. Julian Holloway looking around nervously and a bundle of money he hid in his briefcase. The hall gasped. Everyone turned to Julian who stood near the stage white as death. He didn’t hide his eyes.

 He looked at the screen accepting his punishment. Button. Next slide. The money trail diagram. Dozens of arrows leading from Holings accounts to shell companies. And finally converging at one point Tasha Fennel’s personal account button again and a large color photograph appeared on the screens.

 Dante tenderly hugging a pregnant Tasha on the clinic porch. Ultrasound scans in her hands. A happy couple. Future parents. Women in the hall gasped. Someone recognized Tasha sitting at one of the back tables and pointed at her. She shrank into her chair covering her face with her hands. Button blueprints and incorporation documents.

 Horizon Build and Supply with the names Gaines and Fennel as founders. Proof of creating a parasite firm. And finally, the last slide, the final cord, that lost tender application and the blank page instead of the signature and seal. Proof of sabotage. Ebony lowered the remote. A dead, deafening silence stood in the hall. No one whispered.

 No one coughed. Everyone looked from the screens to Dante, who stood in the middle of the room like a cornered beast. His face was twisted with a mixture of rage and terror. It was over. It was irrefutable. He turned to run, but there was nowhere to run. Two men in strict suits were already quietly approaching his table.

 Two others headed toward the table where Tasha was sobbing. Oilia had taken care of everything. The police invited to the gala as guests acted quickly and quietly. Dante didn’t resist. He was broken. As they led him past the stage, his eyes met Ebanese. There was no more hatred or contempt in his eyes, only primal fear and misunderstanding. How? How did she do it? At that moment, Julian walked onto the stage.

 He approached the microphone. What you saw in the first video is true, he said loudly and clearly, looking into the hall. It was my mistake, my crime, and I am ready to face punishment for it. As of this minute, I resign as CEO of Holloway Holdings. He placed the microphone on the podium and without looking at his mother, walked down the steps.

 Oilia approached the podium and took the microphone. “I accept your resignation,” she said to his back. She watched as Dante was led away in handcuffs, following him with a long, cold look. Then she turned to the hall, put a hand on Ebony’s shoulder, and handed her the microphone. Ebony took it.

 She looked out at the hundreds of faces that now stared at her, not with judgment or curiosity, but with shock and respect. She regained her voice. “Our company has survived a heavy blow,” she said calmly and confidently. Her voice didn’t waver. betrayal from within, but it has made us stronger. Starting tomorrow, we begin a procedure of full internal audit and restructuring.

 We will return everything that was stolen, and we will become even more successful. Mrs. Holloway has shown me trust by offering me the position of interim CEO, and I accept it.” She paused, sweeping her gaze over the frozen hall. “And now, if you’ll allow me, the party is over. Tomorrow we all have a lot of work to do.

 She put down the microphone and without looking back walked off the stage. She took his job, his freedom, his reputation. She won completely.