The mansion fell into uneasy silence as the guests departed. Like a wounded beast retreating to lick its wounds, the Finnegan family withdrew to the study,
Anola's face etched with tension, Hannah's eyes darted nervously, Aaron clutched his third whiskey of the hour.
Atlas observed them from the security feed, his mind calculating everything. The night's failure burned, but he refused to let it consume him. Five years of planning wouldn't be derailed by one setback.
His phone vibrated. A message from Sarah: "Are you okay? The news is reporting a security incident at the Finnegan estate."
He ignored it. Sentiment was a luxury he couldn't afford right now.
In a temporary command center set up in the west wing, Victor Mercer worked methodically. Three laptops ran decryption algorithms o
