Chapter 66. The Fall of Knox

A hush settled over the main auditorium during Forbes’ rolling livestream. Announcers stitched together stock tickers and scandal, but nothing could veil what all screens now showed: Knox’s voice, clear as a guillotine’s blade, on record.

“He won’t notice the hole. Not if we spin it clean.”

Harper Quinn’s hands trembled—once—before she recalibrated. Seated at a black glass table, flawless in midnight silk, she let the clip loop endlessly behind her. The screen’s mirrored surface reflected her calm, unyielding stare.

A queen didn’t flinch.

When the clip stopped: silence occupied the room.

Then was a question from the press. Just one.

“Director Quinn, did you authorize the breach of the—”

“No.” Her voice cut low and deliberate. “I authorized transparency.”

It struck like a scalpel—precise, clinical, irreversible. Ledger’s internal mesh swirled with damage control protocols, but her image held the edge: unbroken, unflappable, unrepentant.