The Thorne Heiress Unveiling Shadow novel Chapter 98

Monday morning. 9:29 AM.

In Claudia Lancaster's command center, the atmosphere was electric. A massive screen showed the opening bell of the New York Stock Exchange. Dozens of traders, all loyal to the Silver Council, sat at their terminals, their fingers hovering over their keyboards.

Claudia stood before the screen, a glass of champagne in her hand. She was a general on the brink of her greatest victory.

"Stand ready," she said, her voice a low, triumphant purr. "On my mark."

The countdown timer on the screen hit 9:30:00. The opening bell rang, a clear, sharp sound that echoed in the silent room.

"Now," Claudia commanded. "Burn them to the ground."

It was a financial tsunami.

Hundreds of billions of dollars, a tidal wave of ancient, hidden capital, crashed into the market. Massive blocks of Thorne Group and Blackwood Industries stock were dumped, triggering an instant panic. The stock tickers, which had been a steady green, turned a violent, bleeding red.

The numbers on the screen began to plummet. Down 10%. 20%. 30%.

Alarms blared on the trading floor of the NYSE. Trading halts were triggered, but the sell-off was too massive, too coordinated.

Claudia watched, her face illuminated by the red glow of the falling numbers. A slow, deeply satisfied smile spread across her face. This was the beautiful, perfect sound of her revenge.

"They're in freefall, Your Grace," one of her analysts reported, his voice filled with awe. "Thorne is down forty-two percent. Blackwood is down fifty-one. They're being wiped out."

Claudia took a slow, deliberate sip of her champagne. "Excellent," she murmured. "Begin phase two. Start buying. I want a controlling interest in both companies by noon."

But then, at 9:45 AM, something happened.

Claudia's smile froze on her face. "What is that? What is happening?"

On the screen, the tickers for those small, forgotten companies suddenly exploded. Their value, which had been stable for years, shot up by 100%. 200%. 500%.

It was a hostile takeover on a scale the world had never seen.

"Your Grace," her analyst stammered, his face white with terror. "We're… we're under attack. Someone is buying up the council's private assets. They're using our own capital against us."

The red on the screen, the color of her victory, was now the color of her own blood.

Claudia stared, her mind unable to process the reversal. The hunter had just become the prey.

She dropped her champagne glass. It shattered on the floor.