The Counter-Strike
The penthouse breathed a cold, calculated stillness, its marble surfaces reflecting the glow of multiple screens. Julian stood at the head of the conference table, fingers pressed lightly against the polished stone, the tension in his jaw betraying the calm he projected. Elena sat beside him, poised and alert, her eyes flicking over the virtual board members arrayed on the wall-sized display. The clock marked the start of a battle neither could afford to lose.
"Let’s begin," Julian said, voice low and precise. "Marcus Nakamura’s empire is built on deception. Today, we expose it."
The screen split, revealing the unredacted Project Obsidian ledger Elena had extracted from Marcus’s own device. Transaction trails snaked through a labyrinth of shell companies and offshore accounts—each entry
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