"I've got fragments of the Zurich node cached locally," she said. "Not enough for full reconstruction, but it's something. And you're not going to like this next part—one of the purge triggers originated from a local IP. Sterling's internal range."
My blood ran cold. "Someone inside?"
"Or someone spoofing inside," she said. "But it was close. Too close."
Kaelen's expression hardened. "That means they still have access to Sterling's secure layer. We should assume the board, Diana's circle—maybe even IT—are compromised."
"Already locking them out," Sienna said. "But Kaelen—this wasn't just cleanup. This was a response. They reacted within ninety seconds of me hitting Arachne. That's not coincidence. That's active monitoring."
Kaelen's hand clenched on the back of the chair. "So they have a live system watching for incursions. Adaptive defense."
"More than that," Sienna said grimly. "They wanted me to know they saw me. The trace signature they left—'ADMIN-01.'"
Kaelen froze. So did I.
"They're not just covering tracks anymore," Sienna continued. "They're baiting us."
Kaelen's eyes flicked toward me, a muscle in his jaw tightening. "They're escalating the psychological front."
I swallowed hard. "Like Jax."
He didn't contradict me.
For a long moment, no one said anything. The reality of it—the precision, the reach—settled like ice in my veins.
Finally, Kaelen said quietly, "Pull back, Sienna. Secure everything you touched tonight. Use the cold server. I'll handle the next step from here."
"Kaelen—"
"That's an order."
A pause. Then: "Copy that." The line went dead again, this time intentionally.
Kaelen lowered the phone slowly. He didn't move for a long while, just stood there, staring at the city life that was going on like normal through the glass.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost to himself. "They were watching the whole time."
I realized my hands were trembling. "Kaelen," I said softly. "What if they already know where we are?"
His gaze lifted to mine. For once, I saw something flicker in his eyes that looked almost like fear—quickly buried beneath resolve.
"Then they'll find out," he said, "that watching isn't the same as winning."
Silence ensued again as I stared at the chart glowing on the screen — Helios at the center, red lines bleeding outward. The name felt heavier now, more familiar than it should.
"Kaelen," I said slowly, "when you first saw that name… when you were still pretending to play along with David and Bella — where was it?"
He hesitated, eyes narrowing as memory clicked into place. "On his desk," he said finally. "One of the internal project memos. He didn't mean for me to see it."
I frowned. "What kind of memo?"
"Quarterly investment summary. It had a breakdown of offshore entities under Vancourt Holdings' renewable division. One of them was tagged Helios — if I remember correctly, it was listed as a dormant acquisition. I thought it was one of his typical offshore tax shields."
"Dormant acquisition?" I echoed, my mind racing. "So he funded the acquisition using Vancourt Holdings' money."
Kaelen's nodded, his expression grim. "The investment arm."
I drew in a shaky breath, the pieces snapping into place like a puzzle I hadn't realized I was holding. "Then," I said, voice low. "They're both involved with Arachne Trust, and have been using Helios to siphon money out of our companies."
The scale of it pressed down on me, heavier than any ledger or chart could convey. "That means every step we've been seeing - every offshore transfer, every dormant shell - it was already mapped out."
Kaelen leaned back slightly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And we don't know how long this has been going on," he murmured. "It's a whole complete network of pipelines now. A matured structure which is now in full flow."
I looked at him, "So this is bigger than a single embezzlement scheme. This is systematic, probably decades-long, and we're only finding an exposed node now that they have started purging."
The words had barely left my mouth when both our phones lit up at once.The sound—two sharp, simultaneous vibrations—cut through the heavy silence like a blade.
Kaelen's brows drew together as he reached for his, and I did the same. Pauline's name flashed on my screen. On his, it was Mark. We exchanged a quick glance—one that said everything neither of us wanted to voice.
I swiped to answer first. "Pauline?"
Her voice came through in ragged bursts, barely coherent. "Miss Sterling—thank God—there's been—an explosion—at the Island Residence construction site—"
My blood ran cold. "What?!"
Next to me, Kaelen straightened sharply, his expression hardening as he listened to Mark on his line.
Pauline's words tumbled over one another, frantic. "The west block—gas line—they think it ruptured during the inspection—there's smoke everywhere—some of the crew—"
"Is anyone hurt?" I demanded, my voice shaking.
"I don't know—fire department's already there—security evacuated the area, but they can't reach the underground conduit yet—it's chaos—"
Across from me, Kaelen's tone cut through her voice, low and deadly calm. "You're sure it was a gas line?" he asked Mark. "No maintenance scheduled for that section today?"
He paused, listening, his jaw tightening with each passing second.
Pauline was still speaking, her voice faintly cracking. "They've sealed off the main structure, but Elara—part of the administrative wing collapsed. It's bad."
I pressed a trembling hand to my forehead. The Island Residence—the joint venture, the project that had been bleeding through every report, every sabotage.
Kaelen's voice came back cold and controlled. "Mark, I want you to pull all on-site surveillance from the last twenty-four hours. Back it up to the offsite server before anyone else touches it. Fire or no fire, that data doesn't vanish."
He ended the call before Mark could reply.
I heard my own voice tremble as I said to Pauline, "I'm on my way."
Kaelen was already on his feet before I ended the call. He grabbed his coat, movements sharp and precise."I'll drive," he said.
I nodded. The adrenaline hit like a jolt of ice as we moved — elevator, lobby, the warm afternoon air closing in around us. The city glittered golden outside the windshield, deceptively calm, while the world I'd built felt like it was collapsing from underneath.
Neither of us spoke for most of the drive. Every minute stretched long, the silence broken only by Kaelen's clipped phone updates. He'd already called ahead — emergency contacts, site security, logistics. His voice stayed steady, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel.
By the time we reached the construction zone, the air was torn open by the sound of sirens. Fire trucks lined the perimeter, lights spinning against a haze of smoke. The sharp scent of scorched metal and concrete filled the air.
Flames still licked at the western wing — the part closest to the shoreline. The fire chief met us at the barricade. "Containment's holding," he said. "Explosion originated near the underground conduit. Preliminary guess is gas, but we're not ruling anything out yet."
Kaelen's expression didn't move. "Anyone still inside?"
"Evacuation complete. Three injured, one critical. We've transferred them to St. Helene's."
I exhaled shakily. The sound of collapsing beams echoed faintly in the distance.
We crossed the safety tape with authorization, the ground crunching beneath our boots. The Island Residence — the flagship of everything Sterling and Vancourt had fought to hold together — was half-shrouded in smoke. One of the cranes tilted slightly, skeletal and black against the firelight.
Pauline found me near the emergency tents, her face pale. "They're saying it started under the admin wing," she said hoarsely. "Inspection crew went down there before it happened, but there's no record of any maintenance request today."
Kaelen's head turned sharply. "None?"
She shook her head. "Nothing from our side. But the system log—" she hesitated, "—shows a temporary access pass registered at 18:42. No name attached."
"Ghost credential," Kaelen muttered.
I met his gaze. "You think this was deliberate?"
"I think someone wanted a distraction," he said grimly. "Something big enough to pull attention — and resources — away from the data trail Sienna just cracked open."
It made a sick kind of sense. If Arachne Trust had eyes on us, this was perfect timing.
We spent the next two hours moving between responders and officials — confirming safety procedures, reviewing damage reports, making statements. Cameras began to cluster beyond the perimeter, the glint of lenses like insects in the dark.
By the time we made it back to headquarters, the news cycle was already in full swing.
BREAKING:"Explosion at Sterling-Vancourt's Island Residence Project. Gas Leak Suspected. Sources Cite Possible Safety Oversight."
Pauline was waiting with the PR team, monitors flashing headlines across every major outlet.
"Media's running with the gas leak angle," she said quickly. "They're demanding a statement within the hour."
"Get legal to get me a draft," I said, voice steadier than I felt. "We confirm full cooperation with the authorities, no speculation, and full medical coverage for the injured."
Kaelen stood by the window, his reflection fractured by the city lights. "I'll have Vancourt's engineering division pull maintenance records and inspection schedules. If someone spoofed access, we'll know."
"Do you think it's connected?" Pauline asked softly.
Kaelen didn't answer. He didn't have to.
I stepped closer to him when the room finally emptied out. "If they're watching, then this—" I gestured toward the screen showing the fire, the smoke, the chaos "—this was a warning."
Kaelen's gaze shifted to me, calm and unreadable. "No," he said. "Warnings stop you from moving forward." He turned back toward the glass, the city burning faintly in the distance. "This was to keep us busy."
And in that moment, I realized the most terrifying part wasn't the explosion itself.It was that it worked.