“Claire, stop this,” Ethan said. “We can negotiate. I can set your mother up in a private villa. Anywhere in the world.”

“You want to negotiate because you’re scared,” I said.

I hit the enter key, executing the emergency board petition.

By routing the ledger directly to the lenders, I was triggering an automatic debt default.

Under section nine of the Apex charter, a default of this magnitude instantly stripped the founder of his administrative powers.

His personal operating accounts, his corporate credit cards, his offshore transfers—all of them would be locked.

The system would treat him as an active threat to the corporation’s survival.

“It’s over, Ethan,” I said.

“You’re destroying everything I built,” he hissed.

“You destroyed it when you decided to use Apex as a personal slush fund,” I said.

The progress bar hit eighty percent.

The hum of the servers seemed to grow louder, filling the small room with a vibrating heat.

The smell of hot dust and ozone was thick in my throat.

On the screen, a series of system prompts began to flash in rapid succession.

*Default Triggered.*