Lynn stood in front of the mirror, buttoning up her white blouse — crisp, spotless, a sharp contrast to the war storming inside her.
> "You sure about this?" Michael asked from behind her.
> "I'm not giving him the satisfaction of hiding," she said. "I've kept quiet long enough."
The morning news was already buzzing — a mysterious anonymous leak had just hit every major media platform. Three shell companies, all traced to fake charity events, funneled millions through unnamed accounts.
The headlines didn't mention Mokoena's name.
Not yet.
But those who needed to know… would know.
She stepped into her heels like armor, grabbed her phone, and walked out of the safehouse like a woman on a mission.
Her destination?
The Daily Echo — one of the few news outlets that hadn't yet sold out to Mokoena's silent influence.
Inside the newsroom, Lynn moved with quiet confidence. She spotted the editor, Mr. Letsholo, and went straight to him.
> "You don't know me," she began. "But you've seen my work."
He raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Nare… former fixer. Disappeared. People thought you were dead."
> "I was," she said. "Now I'm back. And I'm holding a match to a city soaked in gasoline."
Letsholo leaned forward, intrigued.
> "I want to make a deal. Exclusive access. Real names. Real money trails. But I choose the narrative — I choose when it goes public."
He studied her, then smiled faintly.
> "You're not doing this for justice."
> "No," she said. "I'm doing this to finish what I started."
Back at the safehouse, Michael watched the news and smiled to himself. The headlines were shifting already.
"Former underworld figure resurfaces with explosive claims."
"Anonymous whistleblower threatens major political scandal."
He looked at Lynn as she returned.
> "You stirred the pot."
> "I flipped the damn table," she said.
Lwandile added, "Mokoena's people are scrambling. They don't know what's real yet — and that's your power."
Lynn's phone vibrated.
A message from Zee.
> "We need to talk. Urgently. I think he knows I spoke to you."
Lynn's jaw clenched.
> "Get the car," she told Michael. "If he touches her… this becomes personal."
Michael tossed her the keys.
> "It already is."
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