Chapter 4 - The Strike Back
The next morning, the $1,800 eviction notice was gone, replaced by a zero-balance receipt stamped PAID IN FULL by my landlord, who had looked at the corporate black card with a mixture of shock and utter confusion. But the relief of keeping my apartment was immediately overshadowed by the magnitude of the war Ethan and I had just declared.
We set up our makeshift command center in my cramped living room. Spread across my modest wooden kitchen table were laptops, decrypted hard drives, and printouts of financial records detailing years of corporate corruption, shell companies, and fraudulent property seizures orchestrated by Christopher Hale.
"We can't just leak this to the press anonymously," I said, signing quickly as I pointed to a particularly damning document detailing how Hale Enterprises had knowingly ignored structural violations in an apartment complex that housed dozens of low-income families. "Your father has media outlets in his pocket. He'll bury the story, claim it's a smear campaign, and use his high-priced lawyers to crush whoever published it."
Ethan nodded, his fingers moving across his own keyboard as he tapped out code at a blinding speed. You're right. An anonymous leak won't work. We need to hit him where it hurts the most—his upcoming public merger with Global Zenith Corp.
"The shareholders' meeting," I realized, my eyes widening. "It's in five days at the Hale Tower."
Exactly, Ethan signed, a rare, triumphant smile touching the corners of his lips. That meeting is going to be broadcast live to thousands of investors, journalists, and regulatory commissioners. If we can bypass the main auditorium's AV system and feed our data directly into the master presentation screens while he's on stage, there will be no way for him to spin it. The evidence will be broadcast in 4K for the entire financial world to see.
"It's brilliant," I said, feeling a rush of adrenaline. "But how do we get inside the master control room? Security at Hale Tower is tighter than a military base, especially after recent threats."
Ethan stopped typing, looking up at me with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. That's where you come in. Hale Enterprises is currently hiring high-end catering staff for the shareholders' gala reception following the meeting. My father loves putting on expensive, ostentatious parties to celebrate his victories. He’ll never suspect that the woman who walked out of his private dining room a few nights ago is walking right back into his headquarters wearing a catering uniform.
For the next four days, we worked in intense, sleep-deprived harmony. Ethan taught me the architectural layout of the Hale Tower’s sub-basement server rooms, while I helped him refine his public speaking notes—not for a speech, but for a written manifesto he intended to project alongside the financial records. We shared cheap takeout on my kitchen counter, communicated through a seamless blend of spoken words, written notes, and flying hands, and forged a bond that felt stronger and more authentic than anything I had ever experienced.
On the fifth morning, the air in the city was crisp and charged with anticipation. I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, pinning my hair up into a tight, professional bun, smoothing down the pristine black vest and crisp white shirt of a banquet server.
Ethan stood in the doorway, watching me through the mirror. He signed slowly, his hands calm, though his heart was hammering against his ribs just like mine.
Are you ready for this, Mary?
May you like
I turned around, meeting his gaze with absolute resolve.
"Let's bring him down."
