Chapter 5 - THE GHOST FROM THE PASTThree weeks after Lyra took over Vance Global, the corporate landscape had fundamentally shifted. The traitors had been purged, the stock was soaring, and Lyra was hailed by financial media as the most ruthless corporate prodigy of the decade.
Yet, deep inside the high-security penthouse of Vance Tower, the battle was far from over.
Lyra stood before a massive digital wall screen displaying an old, encrypted family tree. Her father’s files—hidden away for thirty years—were spread out across multiple displays. Something didn't add up. Marcus Cole was just a lawyer; he didn't have the wealth or the political muscle to orchestrate an assassination attempt on Jonathan Vance back in the nineties.
Someone else was pulling the strings. Someone higher up.
A soft knock echoed at the door, and the head of her private security detail, a former special forces operative named Vance (no relation), stepped inside.
“Ms. Vance, we found something on Marcus Cole’s personal hard drive that the feds missed,” the guard said, handing her a heavily encrypted digital tablet.
Lyra took the tablet and tapped the screen. A single audio file began to play.
The sound of rustling paper, followed by a cold, muffled voice speaking in a hushed, aristocratic tone: “Make sure the accident looks like a brake failure. The Vance name must remain under our control. If Eleanor finds out the truth, the merger falls through.”
Lyra’s breath hitched in her throat. She recognized that voice. It belonged to Arthur Sterling—Robert Sterling’s older brother and the patriarch of the rival Sterling Holdings dynasty.
“They didn’t just try to steal the company,” Lyra whispered, her fists clenching so hard her knuckles turned white. “They tried to wipe out my entire bloodline.”
Before she could process the full weight of the discovery, her private phone buzzed violently on the desk.
An unknown number flashed on the screen. She swiped to answer and put it on speaker.
“Impressive work dismantling Marcus, little girl,” a smooth, chillingly polite voice echoed through the room. “You’ve got your father’s stubbornness. But playing in the big leagues has consequences. Look out your window.”
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Lyra spun around and bolted toward the floor-to-ceiling glass window.
Across the street, on the rooftop of a neighboring skyscraper, a red laser dot flickered and locked directly onto her chest.
