The Cross Global war room pulsed with screens. Dozens of feeds flickered market tickers, news stations, encrypted streams. The storm outside rattled the glass walls, but the storm inside was worse.
Ethan's fingers flew over the keyboard, eyes darting across code like a man possessed. "The studio's running a satellite uplink. Clean, fast, almost impossible to cut without being noticed."
"Almost impossible?" Nathaniel pressed, arms folded.
Ethan swallowed. "With enough time? Sure. But we've got two hours."
Lena paced behind them, her heels sharp against the floor. Every tick of the clock was a blade against her neck. Isabella's interview was already being teased her face plastered across promos with the chyron: "The Betrayal of Lena Voss."
Lena stopped pacing. "We don't need to shut the whole thing down. Just stall it. Delay the signal, make it cut to black for thirty seconds anything that buys us time to counter."
Ethan shook his head. "That's not how this works. If we trip the feed, they'll know it's sabotage. They'll trace it back here."
"Then disguise it," Nathaniel said flatly. "Make it look like interference, a storm surge, whatever you need. Just do it."
Ethan hesitated. "You're asking me to commit federal level cybercrime."
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed. "You work for me. You'll live."
Lena leaned in, her voice steel wrapped in silk. "You're not doing this for him. You're doing it for me. If Isabella goes live, everything we've built is gone. Ethan, please."
For a beat, the only sound was the rain against glass. Then Ethan exhaled and dove back into the code.
"Fine. I'll ghost the signal. If it works, they'll think it's weather interference. But if it fails…" His voice trailed off.
The clock read 7:15. One hour and forty-five minutes to go.
On another screen, a feed showed Isabella arriving at the studio perfect hair, flawless smile, arm linked with a shadowed figure Lena couldn't make out.
Her stomach clenched. Adrian. It had to be.
Nathaniel noticed too. "He's putting her on stage. And you're the punchline."
Lena's jaw tightened. "Then cut the lights before they finish the joke."
The room buzzed with electricity. Ethan's code wormed its way into the studio's firewall, disguised as static. A red bar inched across the screen: Signal Hijack 12%.
Nathaniel moved closer to Lena, his presence sharp, steady. "If this works, you'll get one shot. Use it wisely."
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from Adrian:
"Lights. Camera. Execution."
Her hand trembled, but she steadied it. Not fear fuel.
The red bar ticked up. Signal Hijack 37%.
Then Ethan froze. "Wait. Something's wrong."
On the main screen, code appeared lines not his own. A counter-intrusion. Someone else was in the system.
Adrian wasn't just waiting for her. He was already playing.