The war room at Sinclair Media didn’t look like a battlefield. It was sleek, quiet, humming with soft blue screens and the scent of roasted espresso. But every corner, every digital file, every strategist moving behind the scenes carried the weight of warfare. Not of bombs or bullets, but of truth. The kind that could gut an empire.
“We have enough to burn him,” Damien said, tapping the folder labeled Calloway Archive. “And Veronica’s fingerprints are all over it. She protected him. Paid him off. Covered his trail.”
Celeste stood behind him, reading the highlighted reports. The ones no one had ever seen. Reports of minors being harassed on set. Of contracts forged and shredded. Of hush money transferred through Veronica’s now-defunct talent shell company. It was all there. Rotten and rea
