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Chapter 844:
“Look at it,” Cole commanded, his voice a freezing void. “Watch your empire turn to ash p>
Alycia looked up through her swollen, bleeding eyes. She saw lines of code executing on the screen—the systematic draining of her offshore accounts, the deletion of her digital identity, and the mass distribution of her darkest secrets to every major news outlet and Ivy League board in the country.
The reality of what was about to happen slammed into her brain. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body went entirely limp as the sheer psychological horror pushed her to the brink of unconsciousness.
The hitman reached down, grabbed Alycia by the collar of her ruined nightgown, and dragged her violently across the marble floor toward the center of the room, leaving her no choice but to face the blinding light of the camera and the monitors.
The sudden exposure to the cold air shocked Alycia back from the edge of unconsciousness. She let out a desperate, broken sob, her arms flailing wildly as she tried to curl into a fetal position to protect her bleeding face.
Two of Cole’s mercenaries stepped forward, their faces completely blank. They seized Alycia’s wrists and ankles and, using thick heavy-duty military zip ties, secured her limbs to the four heavy brass legs of the massive mahogany coffee table.
They pulled the plastic ties tight, the jagged edges biting into her skin. She was completely immobilized, her body stretched out and pinned to the floor, forced to stare at the digital execution of her entire existence.
S𝗵𝘢𝗋e 𝘆о𝘶r 𝗍𝗁𝘰u𝗀h𝘵𝘴 𝗈𝗻
Cole’s assistant opened a black Pelican case. He pulled out a high-definition professional video camera and mounted it on a tripod, angling the lens directly at her ruined face and the undeniable proof of her crimes playing out on the screens behind her. He pressed a button, and a small red recording light began to blink steadily in the dim room.
Cole walked over to a single leather armchair sitting in the shadows. He sat down, crossing his long legs, and stared at the blinking red light.
“Make sure the lens captures every single detail,” he ordered, his voice echoing with absolute zero empathy. “I want the world to see the exact moment the great Alycia Beasley realizes she is nothing p>
The hitman and the two other thugs stood in absolute silence, forming a suffocating wall of intimidation around the coffee table. The psychological torture dragged on for twenty excruciating minutes. The room was filled only with the mechanical clicking of the camera and Alycia’s raw, tearing screams as she watched her life’s work, her reputation, and her stolen wealth vanish into the digital ether.
Cole sat in the dark and took a slow drag from his cigar. The orange cherry flared, casting brief, harsh shadows over his face. His expression remained carved from stone. His heart rate did not elevate. His breathing stayed perfectly steady.