Three days later.
Inside the grand study of the Conway estate, Hillard sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A state-of-the-art holographic projector hummed in the center of the room, casting a crisp, three-dimensional video feed of the Conway Group's executive boardroom in Manhattan.
On the holographic projection, Daryl stood at the head of the boardroom table, looking smug. He was clicking through a slick presentation, trying to use an aggressive merger strategy to bury the humiliation he had suffered in the dining room.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the study burst open.
Keira marched in. She had shed the oversized hoodies for a sharp, tailored black turtleneck and dark jeans. She hadn't just walked past the security detail. She had waited for the exact three-second window when the primary guard turned to verify a delivery manifest with Alex down the hall. With absolute silence, she had slipped the biometric lock using a cloned RFID signature she'd lifted from the estate doctor's medical bag. She walked straight into the capture zone of the holographic camera.
In the Manhattan boardroom, the executives gasped as the infamous, "brain-damaged" ward suddenly appeared on the massive screens. A wave of shocked murmurs rippled through the room.
Hillard's brow furrowed. He slammed his hand down on the mute button on his console. "Who gave you permission to enter this room?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a lethal octave. "Get out."
Keira didn't flinch. She stepped right up to the camera lens, her eyes locking onto the holographic projection of Daryl's face.
"If you proceed with Daryl's West District roadmap," Keira announced, her voice ringing out clearly, "the entire division will face bankruptcy liquidation within six months."
On the screen, Daryl's face turned purple with rage. He slammed his fist onto the boardroom table. "Cut the feed from the estate! Security! She's having a psychotic break!"
Keira moved faster than Hillard could react. She reached across the mahogany desk, snatched Hillard's master control tablet, and slammed her finger onto the unmute button. With her other hand, she plugged a small USB drive into the console.
Instantly, Daryl's presentation vanished from the screens, replaced by a dense, highly complex patent vulnerability report. It was the data Brycen had pulled from the dark web.
"The gene-sequencing platform Daryl is pushing," Keira said, pointing at the glaring red lines of text on the screen, "violates three hidden patents held by European shell companies."
She looked directly at the camera. "If you take this product to market, you will be hit with a billion-dollar infringement lawsuit that will drag the entire Conway Group into the mud."
The executives in the Manhattan boardroom stared at the irrefutable data on the screens. The color drained from their faces. They slowly turned their heads to look at Daryl, their eyes filled with suspicion and anger.
Hillard leaned back in his leather chair. He didn't call for security. He crossed his arms over his chest, his dark eyes watching Keira with the intense, predatory fascination of a king watching a gladiator slaughter a lion.
Daryl began to sweat profusely. He wiped his forehead with a trembling hand. "Those... those patent overlaps can be resolved with cross-licensing later! It's standard industry practice!"
"They won't license them to you," Keira shot back, her voice cutting like a scalpel. "Because those three European shell companies are secretly controlled by the McKnight family. This isn't an oversight, Daryl. You are walking Conway Group directly into a trap set by our biggest rival."
The boardroom erupted into chaos. Executives shouted over each other. If this was true, Daryl's incompetence was bordering on corporate treason.
Daryl panicked. "She forged the data! She's a junkie! You're going to listen to a teenager over your senior VP?"
Keira placed both hands flat on Hillard's desk, leaning down toward the microphone. "I want the West District project," she stated, laying her cards on the table. "I will clear the patent minefield in three months and build an alternative platform with zero intellectual property liabilities."
Daryl let out a shrill, hysterical laugh. "You? Lead a core R&D project? You don't even have a college degree!" He looked at Hillard's projection pleadingly. "Hillard, end this joke. I can fix this. We don't need an outsider."
Hillard remained silent. He raised his right hand and began slowly tapping his index finger against the mahogany desk. Tap. Tap. Tap. The rhythmic sound echoed through the speakers, instantly silencing the screaming executives.
He looked at Keira. Her eyes were burning with raw ambition and absolute confidence. It was a dangerous, intoxicating look.
"The West District is the crown jewel of our R&D," Hillard said slowly, his voice echoing with finality. "I cannot hand it over entirely to someone with zero corporate track record."
Keira's stomach dropped. She bit the inside of her cheek, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk so hard her knuckles turned white.
"However," Hillard continued, a dark smirk playing on his lips, "I will split the West District project. Keira and Daryl will each take control of separate portfolios. An internal competition."
Daryl looked like he wanted to vomit, but he didn't dare argue with Hillard's absolute decree. He gritted his teeth and nodded stiffly.
Keira lowered her head slightly, allowing her hair to hide the cold, victorious smile spreading across her face. The prey had stepped right into the bear trap.
She took a step back from the desk, looked at Daryl's furious face on the screen, and gave him a slow, mocking salute. The war had officially begun.
