The air in the hotel suite felt different today. It was no longer thick with the suffocating anticipation of a trap, but instead crackled with the sharp, electric energy of a counterattack. Julian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his gaze fixed on the sprawling Los Angeles skyline. For weeks, he had played the role of the pawn, moving only when the industry or his contract demanded it. But today, the board had flipped.
Jonathan sat at the mahogany table, his laptop open. The screen glowed with a cascade of documents, emails, and financial records that had cost a small fortune to secure.
"The contacts are confirmed," Jonathan said, his voice steady. "The journalist is waiting for the green light. If we send this now, the story will break by the time the West Coast wakes up. Sean Miller will be yesterday's news before he even has time to finish his morning coffee."
