The house felt alive with tension, every creak of the floorboards and whisper of the wind outside carrying a warning. Ella paced the living room, barefoot, her fingers dragging along the edge of the coffee table as if it were a lifeline. She couldn't sit, not with the countdown ticking, not with Rita scheming somewhere, and not with the knowledge of what could explode in the next twenty-three hours.
Ben was sitting on the sofa, elbows propped on his knees, hands clasped together like he was holding himself back from losing control entirely. His jaw worked constantly, as though he were chewing over every possibility, every trap Rita might set. Occasionally, he muttered low, frustrated words under his breath.
"No… no, not this… she can't…"—the sort of sounds that made Ella's stomach tighten into painful knots.
Lucas moved through the room like a shadow, glancing between the two of them. "She's going to push," he said, muttering more to himself than to anyone else. "She always does. Every time you get ahead, she finds a way to sneak back in, whisper doubts, stir the chaos."
Ella stopped pacing and turned sharply, eyes blazing. "Then we stop her before she even opens her mouth. We dismantle her. Every lie. Every little trick. Every story she wants to tell tomorrow, gone before anyone sees it."
Ben ran a hand through his hair, voice rough when he finally spoke. "It's not just the lies. It's the public. People will take one photo, one edited text, and bam, they'll believe it. She knows the right buttons to press." His voice shook slightly, not with fear, but with the weight of responsibility he felt pressing down on his shoulders like a boulder.
Lucas smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Then we remove the buttons." He paused, scanning both of them carefully. "We need to be surgical, precise. Any misstep, and she'll spin it, use it against us. We don't confront blindly. We attack methodically."
Ella exhaled slowly, leaning her forehead against the couch's edge, willing herself to calm down. Methodically. Yes. That's what they'd done before, that's what had worked, and this time they couldn't allow mistakes.
Ben stood abruptly, movement sharp and tense. "We can't afford mistakes," he hissed, pacing like a predator circling a cornered prey. "Every file she has, every account, every little recording, Lucas, make sure we cover all of it. Ella, you and I need to prepare a public statement. Something concise, calm, factual… not emotional."
Ella nodded, the thought of speaking to the world about Rita's manipulation making her stomach twist with nerves. But she forced herself to focus, to imagine her words like a shield, solid and unbreakable. "We do it together," she murmured, glancing at Ben.
Lucas tapped rapidly on his laptop, pulling up files, cross-checking dates, messages, and edited recordings. "She's smart. But we're smarter. If we time this right, she won't have a chance to control the narrative."
Ben muttered, barely audible, "She always tries to gaslight. Make people doubt reality. Make me doubt… everything." His eyes flicked toward Ella, and there was a raw, human vulnerability there that made her chest ache.
Ella took a step closer and touched his arm. "Not this time. Not ever again." Her voice was soft but carried steel, grounding them both in the moment, in the fight they were about to face.
The phone buzzed suddenly, slicing through the room. Lucas snatched it up, eyes scanning the incoming message. "Reed," he muttered. "He found something."
Ben and Ella leaned in.
Lucas scrolled quickly. "She's moving assets. Files, emails, backups, all staged. She's got duplicates in case anyone finds her first layer. And this is the big one she's planning a live reveal tomorrow morning. On every social platform she can access. It's… a spectacle. A show of victimhood."
Ella hissed through her teeth, frustration and fear gnawing at her. "A show. Of course it's a show. She can't just let it slide quietly. She has to make everyone watch her lie."
Ben growled softly, a sound that vibrated through the room. "Then we hijack her show." He moved closer to Lucas, whose fingers flew over the keys. "We leak the truth first. Preempt. Disarm. Strip her of the stage before she steps on it."
Lucas nodded, voice quiet but intense. "We do it carefully. Any slip, and the public will believe her. Timing… it has to be perfect."
Ella's hands shook as she muttered, "Perfect timing. Right. Everything rides on it."
Ben's hand found hers again, grounding her, steadying her panic. "We'll get it right. We have to. For us, for the truth."
Suddenly, a low chuckle echoed from the corner of the room, and Ella jumped back. "What the—?"
Lucas spun around, eyes narrowing. "Who's—"
But it was just Reed, leaning against the doorway, shaking his head with a tired smirk. "You two look like you're about to combust. Calm down. I got the last batch of files. Passwords, backups, copies of everything she could use. We're ready."
Ella exhaled shakily, a mix of relief and residual tension curling in her chest. "Ready… but for what? The storm tomorrow?"
Reed nodded slowly, voice tired but firm. "The storm. And we're not hiding from it."
Ben muttered under his breath, gaze hard. "No. We face it. Together."
Lucas looked at all of them, expression unreadable but determined. "Then it's settled. Tonight we strategize, tomorrow we act. Every detail, every contingency, every move, it's ours to control."
The room fell silent again, save for the faint hum of electronics and the occasional shuffling of papers.
Ella pressed her forehead against Ben's shoulder, eyes closed, allowing herself a single moment to breathe. The city outside buzzed unknowingly, oblivious to the machinations unfolding inside this apartment. But inside, they were ready.
For once, they weren't running. They weren't reacting. They were on offense.
And tomorrow… Tomorrow, the countdown will end, but the truth will rise.