Chapter Fifty-Four
The morning broke with a crisp, indifferent light, spilling across the glass walls of Nivida’s headquarters. For all its sleek confidence, the building carried a hush—as if the very walls sensed what was unravelling behind them.
Briella arrived early, shoulders squared, her expression carefully neutral. Clara was already waiting with a stack of printouts, the mirrored logs from overnight pulsing with red markers.
“They tried again,” Clara reported, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. “Two attempts. Both at 2:14 and 3:02 a.m. One was blocked by the mirror system. The other slipped through briefly, but we caught enough to trace it.”
Briella leaned over the documents. “To where?”
Clara slid a sheet across. “Not external. Internal.”
The word clanged inside Briella li
