A cold, focused rage settled over Caspian. The path forward was sickeningly clear.
The video was proof, but it was not a weapon. Not yet. Isolde had masterfully captured the public’s sympathy. She was the fragile victim; he was the villainous ex-husband who had abandoned her on her deathbed. Releasing the footage now would be a desperate, clumsy move. His accusations would be dismissed as the bitter rantings of a scorned man.
He had to dismantle her. Piece by piece. He had to unravel the entire tapestry of her life’s lie until nothing remained but the ugly, naked truth.
He picked up a clean burner phone from the safe house’s supply. He dialed a number he had not used in years, a direct line that bypassed secretaries and assistants. It connected to a man fiercely, almost fanatically, loyal to his grandmother. Marcus Thorne, the head of security for Hawthorne Industries.
Thorne answered on the first ring. “Sir.”
Caspian’s voice was devoid of all emotion, a flat, metallic instrument. “I need a full-spectrum covert workup on an individual. Isolde Finch.”
There was a half-second of silence on the other end of the line.
“Financials, associates, travel, communications,” Caspian continued, his words sharp and precise. “I want to know every dollar she’s ever spent and every person she’s ever betrayed. I want her entire life, from birth until this morning, mapped and cross-referenced for inconsistencies. Use Alpha-level resources. Absolute discretion. My authority.”
“Understood, sir.” Thorne’s voice was equally professional, betraying no surprise. He was a creature of the Hawthorne machine. He followed commands.
“This does not go through official channels,” Caspian added. “It is firewalled from all corporate oversight. It reports only to me. Is that clear?”
“Crystal, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Caspian ended the call. He felt the immense, invisible weight of the corporate machine he had just activated. Thousands of employees, billions in assets, a global network of influence. A machine built for profit and power, now being wielded for a singular, destructive purpose.
The power he had always taken for granted was now his only weapon. And he would use it to burn Isolde’s world to the ground.
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