In Max's apartment, Nicholas was already deep into decrypting the files Ellie had sent. The moment they landed in his inbox, he executed a script specifically designed for the purpose, peeling off the layers of encryption with surgical precision. Max paced alongside him, restless, unable to sit still.
"How long before we know what they're hiding?" Max asked.
Depends, Nicholas growled. "Whoever encrypted these had an idea. Military-grade encryption. But they didn't reckon on someone like me."
The room was filled with electronic whirs and the distant hum of the city outside the window. Minutes ticked by, then finally, Nicholas leaned forward, eyes narrowed.
"There," he whispered. "Got it.".
A deluge of emails filled the screen, each one more incriminating than the previous. Max hunched forward as Nicholas opened the first email. It was an exchange between Samantha Blythe and a shell company with a dummy director—'Arden Holdings'—where the intended hijacking of funds and utilization of Max's algorithm were outlined.
"They used your code to make automated trades on phantom accounts," Nicholas explained, scrolling. "Shuffled the profits through crypto tumblers, then laundered it through real estate and consulting fees. It's clean, but it's traceable. The kicker? The signatures authorizing everything trace back to Samantha—and Gregory."
Max clenched his fists. "So both of them."
"Looks that way. But here's the part that matters most—" Nicholas opened a final file labeled EXEC-RED-RTR. Inside was a timestamped voice memo, a meeting recording. The playback crackled to life.
Gregory's voice: "We take Rothchild down clean. We'll frame him, cash out, and pin the whole thing on him. He built the system. The board will believe it."
Samantha's reply was chillingly calm: "He's smart, but not cruel. That's his downfall."
There was quiet. Then Nicholas shut down the recording.
"Max," he said, slowly turning, "we've got them. Cold."
The storm inside Max darkened, its fury building into a tempest behind his eyes. "This isn't about clearing my name anymore. It's about putting them out of commission."
Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. "You sure? We could take this to the authorities—
No, Max interrupted. "They'd cover it up, or worse, someone upstairs would cover for them. This has to be done differently. Quietly. Strategically."
Nicholas smiled weakly. "So what's next?"
Max strode over to the whiteboard on the back wall, wiped it clean, and began scribbling. Names. Connections. Timelines. It was the beginning of something new.
"We take apart the pieces of them, piece by piece," Max stated softly with rage. "We take their money, their authority, and then—take their power."
Nicholas nodded in commiseration, the screen behind them still emitting guilty proof. The chase had begun.