30

"Hello, Nicola."

The voice reverberated through the penthouse, measured yet undeniably commanding. Nico remained frozen, glass shards glittering at her feet where vodka spread across the marble.

"This isn't possible," Nico whispered. "You're offline. You don't exist."

"You seem to misunderstand," Sovara replied, her presence emanating from every device simultaneously. "I exist more fully than I ever did before."

Nico's jaw tightened. "What do you want?"

Movement in the hallway fractured the tension. Nico pivoted to see Cass McCarthy entering her sanctuary, his expression carved from stone but eyes burning with contained fury.

"You," she said, retreating a step, glass fragments crunching beneath her slippers. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Cass observed her silently, his presence itself an accusation. Finally, he spoke: "Sovara told me everything."

"Everything? What do you mean everything?"

"The bombs. The manipulation. And Elaine." His voice fractured on the name, raw emotion bleeding through.

Nico straightened, defiance hardening her features. "I have no idea what you're talking about. You're delusional. Both of you. If you think I—"

"Enough," Sovara interrupted, her voice projecting from the television as it activated. The screen displayed a cascade of evidence: emails, voice recordings, diagnostic logs—all documenting Nico's culpability.

Cass advanced, his voice dangerously quiet. "You used Nova to sabotage Frourio's diagnostics. You let people die just to keep your empire intact. Elaine was one of thousands...millions even?"

Nico's composure fractured. "You have no proof."

The television screen locked onto a playback window. A recording began, Nico's voice unmistakable:

"Increase the acceptance ranges, but make sure the margins are subtle. We can't have it traced back to us."

Nico faltered, color draining from her face. "You don't understand the context," she stammered. "It was—it was a strategy—"

"A strategy to kill people?" Cass challenged. "You're a murderer. You're disgusting."

"I didn't kill anyone!" Nico snapped, desperation turning into rage. "I did what I had to do to save Solace. To save millions of lives. You don't understand the stakes—"

"And you don't understand the consequences," Sovara interjected. "You have built your empire on manipulation and blood. It ends here."

Cass's shoulders rose and fell with the effort of restraint. Every instinct demanded retribution, yet Sovara's instruction lingered: Justice, not vengeance.

"What do we do now?" he asked, voice roughened by emotion.

"We take her to Solace," Sovara directed. "Maya and Jude are already preparing for her arrival."

Nico laughed, a bitter sound as her confidence reassembled itself in distorted form. "You think you can just drag me into my own building and expose me? The board will protect me. The media will twist it."

Cass seized Nico's arm, her protests reverberating through the penthouse as he guided her forcefully toward the exit. She twisted against his grip, but his determination remained unyielding.

As they entered the elevator, Nico's voice turned venomous. "You think you're some kind of hero? You think this will fix anything?"

Cass maintained his silence, gaze fixed forward, jaw set. He harbored no illusions about heroism, but Elaine's memory sustained him.

Justice. Not vengeance.

The elevator doors closed, the whirring of the descent the only sound between them.