Chapter 5

Seraphina cradled Ms. Albright' s head, her hands instantly slick with blood.

"Evelyn! Stay with me! Someone call an ambulance!"

Her voice was raw, frantic.

Julian, recovering from his own shock, rushed to her side. "Seraphina, are you hurt?"

She barely looked at him. Her eyes were fixed on Ms. Albright' s pale face.

The mask of the stressed, feigning CEO had shattered. This was pure, unfiltered terror and concern.

For a moment, it was as if the old Seraphina was back, the one who cared deeply for her loyal people.

Then, her eyes met Julian' s.

She saw the calculation flicker there, the assessment of the situation.

Her training, her deception, kicked back in.

She took a shaky breath, schooling her features.

"She saved my life," Seraphina said, her voice trembling but regaining some control. "We need to get her to a hospital. Now."

The paramedics arrived, sirens wailing in the distance.

As they carefully lifted Ms. Albright onto a stretcher, Seraphina' s gaze was intense.

She was the powerful CEO again, but with a crack in her facade.

She turned to her head of security. "Lock this place down. No one talks to the press about Ms. Albright until I say so. And find out who was behind this attack. I want them."

Her voice was ice.

She rode in the ambulance with Ms. Albright, holding her hand, whispering reassurances that Evelyn likely couldn't hear.

The intense, uncontrolled grief she' d shown was a momentary lapse.

She had to maintain the narrative. Julian was her priority. Evelyn' s injury, while tragic, was a complication.

At the hospital, as Ms. Albright was rushed into emergency surgery, Seraphina issued strict commands.

"Only I get updates on her condition. No one else. And when she' s stable, move her to a private wing. Top security. No visitors without my explicit approval."

She needed to control the information, control the access.

Ms. Albright knew too much. If she woke up disoriented, or if someone else got to her...

The deception had to be maintained.

Ms. Albright survived the surgery.

She had a severe concussion, a fractured clavicle, and numerous lacerations.

When she regained consciousness a day later, Seraphina was by her bedside, alone.

Evelyn' s eyes fluttered open. She looked confused, then winced in pain.

"Ms. Vance?" she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"I'm here, Evelyn," Seraphina said, her voice soft, but with an undercurrent of warning. "You were very brave. You saved my life."

"The gala... the attack..." Evelyn murmured, trying to piece things together.

"It was a mess," Seraphina said. "But Julian is safe. Project Nightingale is secure. That' s what matters."

The implication was clear.

Evelyn looked at Seraphina, searching her eyes. She saw the flicker of something – gratitude, perhaps even fear – but it was quickly masked by the now-familiar cool resolve.

"The doctors say you'll make a full recovery," Seraphina continued. "Aethelred will cover all your expenses, of course. And a generous bonus for your... heroism."

Ms. Albright knew then. The Seraphina who had screamed her name in terror was gone again, locked away.

The CEO was back, reinforcing the lie.

"Thank you, Ms. Vance," Evelyn said, her voice weak. She closed her eyes. There was nothing more to say.

The protagonist' s control was absolute.

A few weeks later, with Ms. Albright still recovering at home under strict instructions to rest and avoid company communication, Julian announced a major milestone for Project Nightingale.

He insisted on a press conference, a "victory lap" after the cyber attack, to show Aethelred' s resilience.

Seraphina, looking composed and powerful, stood by his side.

The event was opulent, a clear display of Aethelred' s (or rather, Julian' s) triumph.

During the Q&A, a journalist, known for his sharp questions, turned to Julian.

"Mr. Croft, there are rumors that a significant portion of Project Nightingale's foundational architecture bears a striking resemblance to some of the early, unpublished theoretical work of Dr. Elias Thorne. Can you comment on that?"

Julian smiled smoothly. "All innovation builds on the shoulders of giants. Dr. Thorne laid some excellent groundwork at Aethelred, no doubt. Project Nightingale takes those initial concepts into entirely new, groundbreaking directions. It' s evolution, not imitation."

Seraphina felt a muscle twitch in her jaw but kept her expression neutral.

Then Julian, with a magnanimous air, turned to Seraphina.

"In fact, Seraphina, speaking of Elias' s legacy... there was that little sketch he did, wasn't there? The one on the napkin, the very first drawing of what Aethelred could be. You always kept it in your desk. Such a sentimental piece. Perhaps, as a symbol of Aethelred moving into its new era, under Nightingale' s banner, it' s time to formally archive such relics. Or perhaps, donate it to a tech museum? A piece of history."

He was publicly challenging her, demanding a highly symbolic item that represented her past connection with Elias.

The original napkin sketch of Aethelred. Elias had drawn it on their first brainstorming dinner, full of hope and shared dreams. It was more precious to Seraphina than any stock certificate.

Seraphina felt a sudden, sharp pain in her chest, as if an invisible hand had squeezed her heart.

The napkin. It was in the small, locked drawer of her personal desk in the office.

Julian knew about it. Elias must have told him, back when they were all younger, more naive.

Her public persona, the cool, controlled CEO, couldn't show the turmoil.

But her hand, resting on the podium, trembled slightly.

Julian was watching her, a subtle, knowing look in his eyes. This was a test.

To refuse would be to show lingering attachment to Elias, to the past.

To agree would be to publicly sever another tie, to hand over a piece of her soul.

She thought of Julian' s "illness," her "debt."

She thought of Elias, gone, vanished. What did a napkin matter to him now?

What did it matter to her, if she was truly committed to this path?

She forced a smile. "An excellent idea, Julian. A true symbol of our progress. I' ll have it retrieved."

The words felt like acid.

Later that day, Julian came to her office. "The napkin, Seraphina?"

She opened the drawer, her movements stiff. She pulled out the old, slightly faded napkin, preserved in a clear sleeve.

Elias' s bold, optimistic strokes. Their shared dream, captured in a few lines.

She handed it to Julian.

He took it, his fingers brushing hers. A triumphant little smile played on his lips.

"A new chapter," he said softly.

Seraphina watched him walk away with it, a profound sense of loss washing over her.

She had reached a state of emotional detachment, or so she tried to believe.

Relinquishing the napkin was just another step, another sacrifice.

She felt a surge of suppressed anger, not at Julian, but at Elias for leaving, for making her do this.

And at herself, for being so trapped.

But she quickly rationalized it. It' s just a piece of paper. Julian is dying. This makes him happy.

Later, she would get it back. Later, when Elias returned, she would explain.

Later, everything would be fine.

Her capacity for self-deception was, it seemed, limitless.