Magnus Marlowe did not wait for the morning to launch his counterattack. He stormed out of the stabilization gala, the whispers of “Kael Voss” and the impossible fifteen-billion-dollar figure ringing in his ears.
He retreated to his private fortified command center beneath the Marlowe Tower, bypassing his security detail and demanding immediate unrestricted access to the company’s forensic intelligence teams.
“Forget the Holt scandal for one hour,” Magnus bellowed at his Chief of Security, who was still trying to process the night’s financial earthquake. “I want everything on Kael Voss. Where is the money coming from? Who certified it? And why does he look exactly like the pathetic liability my daughter married?”
The intelligence teams, seasoned
