Chapter 303
“I’m not playing,” Eliza said. “I love him. Something you can’t understand.”
“Love?” Anson laughed — a harsh, barking sound. “He’s broken, Eliza. And soon, he’ll be broke. I’m going to take this company apart piece by piece.”
“You can try,” Eliza said, her voice like ice. “But you’re forgetting something. Dallas built this empire from nothing. You inherited yours. He’s a builder. You’re just a parasite.”
Anson’s face twisted. For a moment, Eliza thought he might reach for his door handle.
The traffic light turned green. Anson’s driver didn’t move.
“Enjoy the meeting,” Anson sneered. “I’ll be watching.”
He slid back into the shadows. The window glided up. The sedan peeled away, made an illegal U-turn, and disappeared into the night.
Two hours later, the boardroom was full. The air was thick with tension.
Cathey Norton sat in the back, a smug smile on her face. She was waiting for the crash.
Bella stood and plugged in the drive.
The screen lit up. Project Phoenix: Phase One.
The graphics were crisp. The data was flawless. The animation played without a single stutter.
Cathey’s jaw dropped. She looked at Eliza.
Eliza was seated at the side of the table, beside the empty CEO’s chair. She caught Cathey’s eye and gave her a look of pure, cold dismissal.
After the meeting — a resounding success — Eliza cornered Cathey in the hallway.
“How?” Cathey stammered. “It was broken.”
“We fixed it,” Eliza said, leaning in close. “And we logged the user activity. We have forensic proof of the malicious code you ran, Cathey. Augustina knows. The board will know.”
“You can’t fire me,” Cathey hissed. “My father—”
“Your father is afraid of his mother,” Eliza said. “And Gigi values competence above everything. You just proved you have none.” She held Cathey’s gaze. “Pack your things. You’re done.”
Bella walked through the hospital’s main lobby. She had come to drop off the meeting minutes for Dallas, who had demanded a hard copy.
“Bella.”
She jumped. Dr. Vance was standing by the information desk, holding a tablet.
“Dr. Vance,” Bella said, clutching her purse. “You scared me.”
“You look stressed,” Vance said, his voice smooth as silk. “Rough night?”
“Work,” Bella said, shifting her weight. “Excuse me, I have to get these upstairs.”
Vance didn’t move. He tilted his tablet, displaying a high-resolution photograph of a typewritten page from a medical file.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked.
“No,” Bella said, though a cold dread began to creep up her spine.
“It’s a page from Dallas’s psych evaluation from 2018,” Vance said. “The one where he talks about the hallucinations. The violence. The urge to burn things down. The physical file is quite secure in my office safe, but access — well, access is everything.”
Bella froze. “Why do you have that?”