“And now,” Tristan said, “we have a short video highlighting our accomplishments over the past year.”

That was my cue.

The technician looked at me.

“Triggering the video package now, Ms. Hayes?”

“No,” I said quietly.

“I will launch this one manually.”

I pressed the flashing blue button on the console.

The giant LED screens behind Tristan flickered.

The polished promotional video did not play.

Instead, a simple black screen appeared with white text: *A Message from the Director of Operations.*

The audio system crackled.

Tristan frowned, looking back at the screen behind him.

Then, his own voice boomed through the high-fidelity speakers of the ballroom.

*”You were a liability,”* Tristan’s voice said, crystal clear.

The crowd went completely silent.

*”And Arthur Sterling was getting too close to the shipping routes I’m using.”*

Tristan’s face drained of color.

He froze, his mouth slightly open.

*”By feeding the FBI the Chelsea layout under your name, I solved two problems at once,”* the recording continued.

Whispers began to ripple through the audience like a sudden breeze.

Khloe’s jaw dropped as she stared at the screen.