The pier at the river’s mouth groaned under the storm’s relentless fury, rain slicing through the air like shards of glass, drenching Lena Hart—Eleanor Whitmore—as she faced Vivian Whitmore, her stepmother’s cold eyes gleaming with defiance despite her bound wrists. The microchip labeled C.W. Final Directive had unleashed its devastating payload via locker 47’s server, broadcasting the Consortium’s crimes—smuggling, bribery, murders—to a global audience, with ...