SHADOWS OF THE EMPEROR: THE MIDNIGHT GALA REVELATION THAT DESTROYED OUR EMPIRE FOREVER

The crackle of static from the radio sent a jolt of adrenaline through the courtyard. The tactical commander barked a sharp order, and half a dozen operatives spun around, their assault rifles raised toward the dark, sprawling western wing of the Wellington mansion where the private archives were housed.

"Unit Four, report," the commander shouted into her shoulder mic, her eyes darting toward the arched oak windows of the ground floor.

"Identify the intruders immediately. Use non-lethal force if possible, but secure the archive servers at all costs."

Static hissed from the speaker for three agonizing seconds before a panicked voice broke through.

"They’re burning the physical ledgers! They bypassed the digital firewall using an override code from Arthur’s terminal! We can't—"

A deafening explosion ripped through the western wing of the mansion. A ball of orange fire burst through the arched stained-glass windows, showering the manicured lawn with glittering shards of colored glass and sending a thick, acrid plume of black smoke billowing into the night sky.

Victoria screamed, stumbling backward as her driver shielded her with his body. Elena buried her face in her hands, letting out a prolonged, terrified shriek that echoed off the stone fountain.

"The ledgers," Clara whispered, horror draining the last remaining color from her face.

"If those records burn, every transaction linking Arthur to my father’s medical trust vanishes forever. There will be no paper trail to prove he poisoned him."

Marcus moved instantly, grabbing Clara by the shoulders and pulling her away from the falling debris.

"We have to get inside," Marcus urged, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene.

"The fire suppression system in the west wing was disabled during the renovation. If that fire reaches the sub-basement vault, the entire history of the company goes up in smoke."

Julian didn't hesitate. Driven by a sudden, desperate surge of adrenaline, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted toward the shattered French doors of the west wing, ignoring the shouts of the federal agents telling him to halt.

"Julian, stop! It’s a suicide mission!" Elena screamed, but Julian was already gone, disappearing into the thick, choking smoke pouring from the shattered windows.

Inside the archive room, the heat was suffocating. Rows of mahogany bookshelves were engulfed in roaring flames, casting dancing, demonic shadows across the walls. In the center of the room, standing beside a smoking terminal, was a masked figure in a dark tactical suit frantically downloading data onto a physical hard drive while feeding paper ledgers into a portable incinerator.

Julian coughed violently, shielding his face with his forearm as he stepped over a burning beam.

"Stop right there!" Julian yelled, his voice cracking through the smoke.

The masked figure paused mid-motion. Slowly, deliberately, the intruder turned around, pulled down the black neoprene ski mask, and revealed a face that made Julian freeze in absolute, gut-wrenching horror.

It wasn't a hired mercenary. It was Sarah, Julian’s own private executive assistant, whom he had fired and paid off in cash three days ago.

"Surprise, Julian," Sarah coughed, a cold, mocking smile twisting her lips as she dangled a heavy titanium flash drive in front of his face.