Chapter 8 : The Invisible Enemy
1068 Words
A hidden account had just moved fifty million dollars—through three shell companies.
Catalina’s eyes sharpened instantly.
“Trace it.”
“I’m already on it.”
They worked side by side—fast, silent, efficient.
Layers peeled back.
Accounts linked.
Patterns emerged.
Until—
they hit something.
A dead end.
No.
A mask.
Óscar frowned.
“This is deliberate.”
Catalina leaned closer.
“No.”
She tapped the screen.
“This is familiar.”
He looked at her.
“You’ve seen this before.”
She didn’t answer.
Because she had.
Years ago.
In a war she thought she had ended.
Her voice dropped.
“Open archive file—sector black.”
The system complied.
Old data flooded the screen.
Names.
Accounts.
Ghosts.
Then—
a match.
Óscar saw it at the same time she did.
“That’s not possible.”
“It is,” she said.
“But he’s—”
“Dead?” she finished.
A beat.
Then—
“Apparently not.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Meaningful.
“Say the name,” Óscar said.
She didn’t.
Not yet.
Because saying it would make it real.
And she wasn’t ready for that.
Her phone buzzed again.
New message.
She opened it slowly.
“Miss me?”
No signature.
No need.
She exhaled once.
Cold.
Controlled.
Then—
“He’s back,” she said.
Óscar’s jaw tightened.
“Then we end him.”
Catalina looked at him.
Long.
Careful.
“No,” she said softly.
“We don’t end him.”
A pause.
Then—
“We survive him.”
Across the city, the unseen enemy picked up a photo—Catalina, years younger.
“You should’ve finished me,” he whispered.
War didn’t explode.
It tightened.
Like a wire around the throat.
Catalina felt it before she saw it.
Subtle disruptions.
Delays where there should be none.
Errors in systems she had built herself.
People—loyal, proven—suddenly uncertain.
Not betrayal.
Not yet.
But something worse.
Doubt.
“Report,” she said.
Lucas stood across from her desk, tablet in hand.
“Three senior partners withdrew from joint ventures overnight. No explanation.”
“Pressure.”
“Yes.”
“Financial?”
“No.”
Catalina’s eyes lifted.
“Then personal.”
Lucas nodded.
“That’s what concerns me.”
Because financial pressure could be countered.
Personal pressure?
That meant someone was reaching into lives.
Families.
Secrets.
Fear.
Across the table, Óscar remained quiet.
Too quiet.
“What are you thinking?” Catalina asked.
“That he’s not attacking the empire,” Óscar said slowly.
“He’s attacking the foundation.”
A pause.
“He wants us unstable.”
Catalina leaned back slightly.
“Then we don’t give him that.”
“You already are,” Óscar replied.
Her gaze snapped to him.
“Careful.”
“Look around,” he continued. “He’s not hitting your money. He’s hitting your people. That’s psychological warfare.”
“I don’t break under pressure.”
“No,” he said quietly.
“You bend.”
Silence.
Dangerous.
Lucas intervened. “We need to identify the pattern.”
“We already have one,” Catalina said.
“Escalation.”
She stood.
Walked to the window.
City below.
Her kingdom.
Untouchable.
Or so it had seemed.
“Track every executive withdrawal,” she ordered. “Cross-reference personal histories, financial exposure, family vulnerabilities.”
Lucas nodded.
“And Óscar?”
She turned slightly.
“Find the source.”
His lips curved faintly.
“I was planning to.”
—
Twelve hours later—
The pressure intensified.
A private video surfaced online.
Not viral.
Not public.
But targeted.
Sent directly to Catalina’s board.
A recording.
One of her executives.
Compromised.
Bribed.
Afraid.
“She’s losing control,” the man said in the video.
Catalina watched it once.
Then again.
No reaction.
But the room temperature dropped.
“They’re planting doubt,” Lucas said.
“They’re exposing weakness,” Óscar added.
Catalina set the tablet down.
“No,” she corrected.
“They’re creating it.”
Because doubt, once planted—
spread.
Even in empires.
Even in iron.
She turned sharply.
“Call a board meeting.”
“Now?” Lucas asked.
“Yes.”
“If we react—”
“We don’t react,” Catalina said coldly.
“We dominate.”
—
The boardroom was silent when she entered.
Eyes on her.
Watching.
Measuring.
Waiting.
Good.
Let them.
She took her seat slowly.
Calmly.
Deliberately.
“I’m aware of the video,” she began.
No denial.
No hesitation.
A ripple of surprise.
“And I’m aware of the pressure being applied to this company.”
A board member leaned forward.
“Catalina, with respect—this is escalating beyond—”
“Control?” she finished.
“Yes.”
She smiled.
Slow.
Cold.
“Then you misunderstand something.”
She leaned in slightly.
“I am control.”
Silence.
Absolute.
Then—
“If anyone here believes otherwise,” she added softly,
“you’re free to leave.”
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Because they knew—
Leaving meant losing everything.
She had reminded them.
Brutally.
Effectively.
After the meeting, Lucas exhaled.
“That bought time.”
“I don’t need time,” Catalina replied.
“I need results.”
Óscar stepped closer.
“You also need stability.”
“I have it.”
“No,” he said quietly.
“You’re holding it together.”
A pause.
“That’s not the same thing.”
She met his gaze.
Hard.
“You think I’m losing control?”
“I think you’re underestimating him.”
Her voice dropped.
“I don’t underestimate anyone.”
“Then prove it.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
Then—
her phone buzzed.
Another message.
She opened it.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Her expression didn’t change.
But something in her eyes—
shifted.
Óscar saw it instantly.
“What?”
She didn’t answer.
She handed him the phone.
He read.
And for the first time—
his expression darkened.
Because this time—
it wasn’t about business.
It was about leverage.
—
Message:
“How long before the people you love start disappearing?”
—
Óscar’s voice dropped.
“This just escalated.”
Catalina’s voice was colder.
“No.”
A pause.
Then—
“It just got interesting.”
At that exact moment—another notification appeared.
A location.
Live.
And someone inside it—
screaming.
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