The Counter-Offensive

The blue light of the terminal bathed Julian’s study, turning the mahogany and leather into a sterile, cold theater of war. Elara stood behind him, her gaze fixed on the scrolling ticker. The Vance family stock wasn't just dropping; it was hemorrhaging, sliding into a red abyss that signaled the end of a decades-long hegemony.

“The sell-off is accelerating,” Julian said, his voice stripped of its usual boardroom polish. He leaned back, the chair groaning

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