Chapter 9 A Symphony of Fire

Loraine barely slept. The last seventy two hours has been insane. Her body was moving but her mind was still back at dinner, replaying every tick of Damien's theatrics, every simmering glance from Nathan, and Michael's clumsy attempt at a conversation about "their future."

But there was no time for reflection. The fire was here.

The headlines were already screaming.

"THORNE BOARD MEMBER BEN NELSON ARRESTED. Misuse of Corporate Funds? WALL STREET PULLS BACK. THORNE'S STOCK TAKES 12% HIT IN PRE-MARKET"

She needed to find a way to remove Thorne from the narrative.

Her executive assistant had texted, called, and voice noted her multiple times. The last message simply read:

"They're already tearing us apart, ma'am."

She stepped into the war room, her office dressed in black like a general preparing for battle. The windows behind her framed a gray Manhattan skyline, the Empire State building barely visible through the fog. It suited her mood perfectly. Michael had once said he could tell her mood by the dress she wore. She could see how true that was.

A small team of five was already waiting: her legal counsel, financial analyst, press liaison, and two board representatives. All of them looked like they hadn't slept. That was good, they could sleep after they had solved the problem.

Loraine tossed her bag on the side table and sat. Her voice came out like a whip.

"Where are we with Ben?"

The lawyer, Robert Dean, was the first to speak. "The accusations are... stacked, but bogus. Misuse of corporate funds, aircraft, padded travel invoices, and alleged bribery. But none of it will stick if we push the right way."

"Will he go to prison?"

"Unlikely," Dean said. "We'll spin it. He's a high profile arrest, they'll use it as leverage, but they don't have enough to take him down for good."

"Still," Loraine exhaled. "Public perception is a different beast."

Dean nodded. "Exactly. Even if he walks free, the stain is there. Our stocks dipped on the news of his arrest. Keeping him on the board right now might make things worse."

Loraine's jaw tightened. "Ben Nelson was good people. He was firm, loud, too proud sometimes but loyal. We all have skeletons. Some of us have mausoleums. Situate his family. His daughter wanted to intern in London. Make it happen. His son is pre law at Stanford pay for it quietly and assure a place for him on our legal team when he is all done. No press. No pity interviews."

"Understood," Dean said, scribbling notes.

She turned to the press officer. "What are the headlines saying?"

"Mixed. Some conservative outlets are already picking up on his Thorne connection and speculating on internal corruption. The left leaning ones are dragging him over his alleged links to the Saudi accounts." The woman's voice faltered.

Loraine didn't blink. "We're not going to be passengers on this ship. I want narrative control. Call the editor at The Chronicle. Feed them our version Ben was being investigated internally, and we were cooperating. Leak emails. We need to look like we had nothing to hide. Throw Ben under the bus if you have to, as long as Thorne is not implicted."

The room nodded.

Then, her phone buzzed. A call from New York.

She answered. "Loraine Thorne."

It was the Head of Operations in New York, his voice frantic. "Ma'am, it's bad. Real bad. The Hudson Plant has been raided by the FBI."

Loraine stood immediately, her blood chilling. "Come again?"

"They shut down everything. They're going through our files, hard drives, even security footage. They had a warrant."

"What did they come for?"

"Financial fraud. Allegedly. It doesn't make sense..."

Loraine ended the call and looked up at the team.

"Hudson's been hit. The FBI shut down everything."

Murmurs broke out. Loraine's heartbeat pounded in her ears.

"Get me New York Legal, now," she barked at her assistant.

"And place a call to our contact in the FBI, they have some explaining to do."

Before she could sit, another call. This time, from California. The Beverly Hills unit. The exact same problem. Another raid. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise.

This wasn't coincidence.

This was coordinated.

Before she could issue a word, Nathan Thorne strode into the room, dressed in a fitted navy blue suit, looking every inch the part of a corporate heir.

His eyes swept across the table, but settled firmly on her.

"What in God's name is happening?" he asked, tone sharp, controlled, too controlled.

Before she could answer, Michael burst through the same door, his tie askew and his face pale.

"Loraine, what is going on?" he asked.

She ignored them both.

"Annabelle," she called, voice cracking like glass. "Get me the Head of Crisis Management, now. Get everyone on a secure call. And find out if Miami and Tokyo have been touched yet."

She ran a hand through her hair, the sleek ponytail unraveling just slightly.

Michael reached for her shoulder. "Lo..."

"Don't," she warned, eyes flashing. "Not now."

Nathan stepped closer. "This was deliberate. Someone is coming after Thorne on all fronts."

No kidding, she wanted to snap. But she held it in. Instead, she took a slow breath.

"Yes," she said. "Someone is clearly after us. We should have seen this coming when Ben was dragged out of his penthouse in handcuffs. The allegations against him are ridiculous at best but it dragged our focus."

She turned to her assistant again. "Contact tech security. Shut down every server not under fire. Disconnect our files from remote cloud systems."

She spun toward the board reps. "Oir sticks already dipped 12%, halting out operations will cause Thorne to bleed. We need to be ready for this war."

As the team dispersed to make calls and bark orders, Nathan and Michael stayed behind, both watching her.

One with curiosity.

The other with concern.

But Loraine was done with theatrics. Whoever started this had poked the wrong beast. They wanted a war?

They were about to learn that Loraine Thorne knew how to burn an empire and rebuild it before morning tea. She had done it before, she most certainly could do it again.