Chapter 143

Chapter 143:

Victoria approached them, her expression softer than usual. “He’s right, Camille. The next twenty-four hours will be crucial. You need to be at your best.”

Camille hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Wake me immediately if anything changes.”

“Of course,” Victoria promised. “Alexander, see that she gets home safely.”

As they walked toward the elevator, Camille cast one last glance at the control room, at Hannah directing her team, at Victoria standing tall and vigilant, at the screens showing the first heartbeats of the Phoenix Grid.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she said quietly.

Alexander followed her gaze. “Yes, it is. And they can’t take it from you.”

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. As the doors closed, Camille leaned against the wall, suddenly aware of the bone-deep exhaustion that had been lurking beneath her focus.

“When this is over,” she said, “when Rose and Herod are dealt with… what comes next?”

Alexander considered her question carefully. “Whatever you want. That’s the point of all this, isn’t it? To reclaim your choice.”

The elevator descended smoothly, carrying them away from the pulsing heart of Camille’s creation. But even as the physical distance grew, she could feel it—the Grid, alive and awakening, its power flowing through the veins of the city like blood through a body.

Two days until the launch ceremony. Two days until Rose and Herod made their final move. Two days until Camille would face her sister one last time. But tonight, for the first time, she wasn’t afraid. Tonight, the Phoenix had risen from the ashes, and wings were made of light.

Herod Preston stood at the windows of his Tribeca penthouse, studying three monitors displaying data from the Phoenix Grid’s first section. The screens cast an eerie blue glow across the dimly lit room.

“It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, his bourbon untouched in his hand.

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Rose entered, wrapped in a silk robe the color of blood, her hair damp from the shower. She moved toward him with predatory grace.

“What doesn’t make sense?” she asked, examining the displays.

Herod gestured toward the center screen. “The Grid. These readings are exactly what we expected to see. Minor fluctuations, small power surges, tiny irregularities in the data flow. All perfectly in line with our sabotage timeline.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Too good,” Herod set his glass down sharply. “No unexpected variables, no human error, no deviations. It’s as if someone wants us to see exactly this data.” He pointed to a jagged blue line. “The fluctuations are consistent to the decimal point, repeating in an almost mathematical sequence.”

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