The safe house was nothing like Damian's world of glass towers and Italian leather. It was bare walls, flickering bulbs, and steel-reinforced doors in a forgotten Brooklyn warehouse. No cameras. No staff. No trace.
Ava sat cross-legged on a cot, the Project Echo drive in her hand. Damian stood near the far wall, shirt sleeves rolled, blood from a shallow cut on his arm drying in streaks.
He hadn't said a word since they got in.
She broke the silence. "Are we safe here?"
"Safe enough," he said, finally turning to her. "Lucian doesn't know this location. Only Isabelle did. She used it once, after testifying against a corrupt city councilman."
The mention of her name hit like a bruise.
Ava nodded to the drive. "You ready?"
He crossed to her and plugged it into a burner laptop. The files opened—video logs, transaction trails, and one final entry from Isabelle, dated the day before her death.
Ava clicked play.
ISABELLE:
"If this is playing, I'm gone. And if it's you watching, Damian, I'm sorry I never told you everything. I didn't come into your life by accident. But I stayed because of you. Because you made me believe I was more than a weapon. That I was still human."
"Lucian won't stop. He'll come for Ava, the way he came for me. And when he does… don't let your guilt stop you. Burn him down."
Damian exhaled, jaw clenched. His entire body was taut, restrained fury.
"I trusted her," he murmured.
"She trusted you, too," Ava said softly. "She died trying to protect your future."
He looked at her, and something in him shifted. The cold, calculated mask cracked.
"I've spent a lifetime keeping the empire from crumbling. But maybe it deserves to fall."
Ava reached out, lacing her fingers through his. "Then let's burn it. Together."
Before he could answer, the phone rang—a burner line no one should have.
Damian answered.
A woman's voice, calm and cold.
"Hello, Damian. I think we should talk."
He froze. Ava sat up straighter.
"Who is it?" she asked.
Damian's face darkened. "Lucian didn't come alone."
He held the phone away from his ear and whispered, "It's my mother."
The meeting was arranged under moonlight in a shuttered cathedral uptown—Cecelia Wolfe's chosen ground. Damian and Ava arrived in silence, the air between them thick with anticipation.
Cecelia waited alone in a pew, dressed in navy silk and winter pearls, looking like she belonged at a senate hearing—not a reckoning.
Damian approached slowly, his voice taut. "I thought you were staying neutral."
"I was," Cecelia said, not turning. "Until neutrality became suicide."
Ava stepped beside him. "You said you wanted to talk. So talk."
Cecelia finally turned. "I know what Project Echo is. I know what Gerald did. I helped him cover it up for years."
Damian's nostrils flared. "Why?"
"To protect you," she snapped. "You were still a boy when he started siphoning money from international charities, using Wolfe Foundation subsidiaries to fund bribes and bury lawsuits. If it had come to light—"
"I would've survived," Damian bit out. "You didn't protect me. You chose your legacy over your son."
Cecelia stood. "That legacy kept your name clean long enough for you to become the man you are now."
"And what about Isabelle?" Ava asked. "You knew Lucian turned on her. You let him."
Cecelia's jaw clenched. "She was playing with fire. She should have come to me, not run with evidence she barely understood."
Damian shook his head in disbelief. "She loved me. She died for me. And you stood back and watched."
Cecelia's face twisted, and for the first time, something like grief touched her eyes. "She was brave. But reckless. Like you, Ava. You remind me of her—and not in ways that comfort me."
Ava stepped forward. "Then why call us?"
Cecelia reached into her coat and withdrew a second drive.
"Because Lucian has more than you think. He's not just targeting the Wolfe name. He's planning to leak Project Echo and pin it on you, Damian. You'll be the face of the scandal. Ava will be the villain who brought you down. And Lucian… will step in as the man who saves what's left."
Damian stared at the drive. "What's this?"
"Insurance," Cecelia said softly. "Proof Lucian's been laundering the leaked assets through offshore vaults tied to his name. The only way to stop him is to go public—first."
Ava met her gaze. "Why help us now?"
Cecelia inhaled slowly. "Because if I lose my son… I lose everything."
Three days later, the Wolfe Foundation's annual Winter Gala glimmered with champagne and sin. Glass chandeliers hung like icicles from the ballroom ceiling, and the press huddled in the marble foyer, cameras ready for another night of opulence.
But Ava wasn't here to dance.
She stood in the shadows of the balcony, earpiece in, black gown flowing like spilled ink. From her vantage point, she could see every guest—and every security detail Damian had planted.
Below, Damian moved through the crowd like a ghost in a tailored tux. At exactly 10:15 p.m., he'd take the stage and reveal the evidence: Project Echo, Lucian's crimes, and the Wolfe family's path to redemption.
It was dangerous. Career suicide. Possibly worse.
But it was right.
Ava checked her watch.
Five minutes.
Then she turned—and froze.
Naomi stood behind her, dressed like a guest, hair pinned, lips tight.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Ava hissed.
Naomi's smile was brittle. "I came to help."
"No," Ava said, voice low. "You're here to stop me."
Naomi's gaze flicked past her, toward the stage. "You think you're any different than Isabelle? You think love makes you immune to the burn?"
Ava stepped closer, fury rising. "You pretended to be her sister. You used me."
"I was her sister," Naomi said. "Not by blood. But by purpose. We were trained together. Raised to be shadows. I loved her more than anyone. And she chose him over the mission."
"She chose freedom," Ava said. "And now I'm choosing it, too."
Naomi's voice dropped to a whisper. "Lucian offered me a way out. You think I could pass that up?"
Ava backed away, heart pounding. "You tipped him off."
Naomi nodded. "He'll intercept the upload before Damian reaches the mic. You lose the footage, and you lose the war."
Ava's mind raced. The backup plan. The fail-safe.
"Unless…" Naomi paused, and her voice faltered. "Unless you make a trade."
"What kind of trade?"
Naomi looked her dead in the eye. "Walk away. Leave Damian. Let Lucian have him. In return, you keep your life. Your career. Your name."
Ava stared at her. "You're asking me to sacrifice him."
Naomi's voice broke. "I'm asking you not to make the same mistake Isabelle did."
Damian stepped onto the stage just as the orchestra finished its final swell. Applause erupted. Cameras flashed. But his eyes searched only for one face.
Ava.
She wasn't at her post.
He forced himself to stay steady, ignoring the panic twisting in his chest.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, voice calm but resonant, "thank you for coming tonight. Before we celebrate another year of growth, I'd like to tell you a story."
Across the ballroom, Ava pushed through the crowd. Her pulse thundered. Naomi's words echoed in her head, but so did Isabelle's.
Some people don't get saved, Ava. Some people just burn.
She spotted the AV booth. The techie Lucian had bribed was there, typing fast, likely rerouting the live feed.
Ava charged him.
"Step away from the console."
He turned, surprised. "You're not supposed to—"
She slammed her heel into his knee. He went down. With trembling hands, she grabbed the emergency USB—the Cecelia drive—and shoved it into the master port.
The system hiccuped.
And then… began to stream.
Damian's voice continued, calm but sharper now.
"This story begins with a lie. With a man who wanted more than power—he wanted control. And with a boy, his son, who learned too late what that cost."
The screen behind him flickered to life.
Financial records. Offshores. Surveillance footage.
Lucian's name. Gerald's signature.
A collective gasp spread through the crowd like wildfire.
Backstage, Naomi cursed under her breath and slipped into the shadows.
Cecelia, in the front row, did not flinch.
Damian looked into the audience—straight into every camera.
"My name is Damian Wolfe. And I'm the heir to a broken empire. Tonight, I choose to break the silence instead of continue the cycle."
A beat.
He looked to the balcony—and saw Ava.
She was safe.
And then—
A gunshot rang out.
Screams.
Damian staggered. Blood bloomed at his shoulder.
Security tackled the shooter—a hired guard in Lucian's pocket.
Ava bolted down the stairs, reaching Damian as he hit one knee.
"Hey," she whispered, cupping his face, "you're okay. You're okay."
He smiled faintly. "Did we do it?"
"You burned it all down," she said, voice shaking. "Now we build."
He leaned into her. "With you, I'll build anything."
Above them, the crowd watched as the Wolfe legacy shattered on screen—and something braver, something real, took its place.