The morning after the concert, the world woke to ruin.
Wolfe Holdings' stock plummeted 38% before the bell even rang.
Langford Media crashed harder—investors fleeing like rats from a sinking ship.
Screens across the city looped images of Clarence, frozen mid-pour.
Of Victoria's slap.
Of Kaylee walking offstage like a ghost who lit the match and disappeared.
---
Clarence sat in his office, watching his empire fracture in real-time.
Mara entered, tablet in hand.
“It's bad," he said simply.
“How bad?"
“Three subsidiaries dissolved overnight. Half your board just resigned. Class-action suits are stacking. The press is calling it 'The Wolfe Collapse.'"
Clarence closed his eyes. “Langford?"
“Worse. Their financials were leveraged against your image. Victoria tried fleeing last night
