The sunrise light fractured through Eden's penthouse windows like a warning siren. Below, Harbor City's financial district hummed awake: traders slamming keyboards, Bloomberg tickers streaming red numbers, taxi horns blaring. Eden Lin stood at the floor‑to‑ceiling glass wall, black power suit immaculate, eyes cold as fractured ice.
Her phone buzzed: a live feed from Titan Venture Partners HQ. On screen, stock charts for Lin Holdings cratered—down 18 percent in ten minutes. A scrolling ticker flashed: **“Eden Lin Acquires 12% of Lin Holdings; Board Demands Resignation."**
She sipped her espresso—strong, unsweetened—letting the bitterness anchor her resolve.
“Quinn," she ordered, voice crisp. “Freeze all outgoing dividends to Lin Holdings shareholders. Issue a public notice: suspension of
