Chapter 104
Chapter 104:
Vultures, all of them.
Aurora walked through the glass doors. She wore a sharp black blazer over a white silk camisole, her jeans swapped for tailored trousers. She looked like a CEO. She looked like war.
Victor King met her at the elevator. He was beaming, practically vibrating with energy.
“We hit two million concurrent players on the expansion,” Victor said, keeping his voice low as they walked. “Investors are calling. Sequoia. Andreessen. They want in p>
“Tell them to wait,” Aurora said, pressing the button for the top floor. “The valuation will double by Friday. Let them sweat p>
They stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting off the noise of the lobby.
“By the way,” Victor said, his expression darkening slightly. “Security reported a disturbance earlier. A black town car with tinted windows. It sat outside for ten minutes, blocking the fire lane. Jones said it was Sterling’s car p>
Aurora didn’t flinch. She watched the floor numbers climb.
“Did he try to come in p>
“No. He just sat there. Watching. Like a vulture realizing the carcass isn’t dead yet.” Victor shuddered. “It’s creepy, Aurora. He’s not handling the stock crash well p>
“Let him watch,” Aurora said coldly. “He’s realizing he can’t touch me here. That’s why he didn’t come in. He knows Jones would have thrown him out onto the pavement in front of the press p>
Aurora pulled out her phone. She had a message from an unknown number.
Aurora, it’s Greg. From the art team. Look, I made a mistake leaving for Thorne. They promised me lead designer, but it’s a mess over here. Sterling is crazy. Can I come back? I know the codebase. I can start Monday.
Greg. The lead artist who had stolen her character designs and taken them to Sterling three months ago.
𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝗮𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝘦𝗅𝘀⧸ⅽ𝗈𝗺
Aurora showed the phone to Victor.
Victor read it and scoffed. “The rat wants back on the ship p>
“What should I tell him?” Aurora asked, though her thumb was already hovering over the keyboard. “Tell him to go to hell p>
“Too emotional,” Victor suggested.
Aurora typed: Pulse has no vacancies for traitors. Good luck with the sinking ship.
She hit send.
Across the city, in the break room of Thorne Industries, Greg stared at his phone. His face went pale. The coffee cup in his hands slipped, splashing lukewarm brown liquid onto his shoes.
“Bad news?” a colleague asked, looking up from a job search website on his phone.
“She… she said no,” Greg whispered.
Panic rippled through the room. If Greg—who was talented—couldn’t get out, what chance did the rest of them have?
The door to the break room slammed open.
Sterling Thorne stood there. His tie was crooked. His hair was disheveled. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.