I came home with a positive pregnancy test hidden inside my purse

"Hold your fire!" Marcus’s voice boomed as our tactical officers flooded the server room, targeting the three mercenaries with red laser sights. "Drop your weapons! Federal agents! You are completely surrounded!"

The three mercenaries froze, calculating their odds against eight heavily armed federal tactical officers. Seeing the overwhelming force, they slowly lowered their carbines to the anti-static floor.

Victoria Sterling didn't flinch. She pressed one last key on her console, then slowly turned around.

At sixty-five, she looked as sharp and venomous as an adder. Her cold gray eyes scanned the officers before resting directly on me.

"Clara," she purred, her voice dripping with aristocratic condescension. "You truly have your grandfather’s stubbornness. I must admit, I underestimated you. I thought Daniel would have had you in a private sanitarium months ago."

"Daniel is fighting for his life on the floor below," I said, stepping past the tactical shields until I stood ten feet from her. "The nephew you promised to share an empire with."

Victoria laughed—a sharp, brittle sound that echoed through the server room. "Daniel was an incompetent fool. He lacked the stomach for true power. Five years with you, and he couldn't even secure a simple trusteeship signature without leaving a paper trail of compounding pharmacies. He deserved the hemlock I gave him."

"You admit to attempted murder, Victoria," Marcus said, signaling the federal agents to move in.

"Attempted?" Victoria smiled, tilting her head. "I never miss, Marcus. By now, the digital drip in his ICU room has delivered the final dose. Daniel Hastings is already dead."

A chill rippled through the room. Even the hardened tactical officers exchanged glances.

"And as for your precious family servers," Victoria continued, gesturing toward her console, "I didn't need your biometric key, Clara. I only needed sixty seconds to plant a thermal wipe virus. In thirty seconds, every record of Grandfather’s merger, every bearer bond, and every shred of evidence tying Obsidian Crest to Julian Vance will burn into ash."

On the console screen, a countdown was flashing: **00:24... 00:23... 00:22...**

"Step back, Victoria!" Marcus shouted, moving toward the keyboard.

"Don't touch it, Marcus," Victoria sneered. "Any unauthorized stroke triggers the immediate self-destruct of the physical hard drives."

I didn't look at Victoria. I looked at the terminal. Grandfather had taught me chess when I was six years old, sitting in the sunroom of the estate. *'When a viper corners you, Clara, do not fight the viper. Starve the nest.'*

I stepped past Marcus, walked straight to the main power terminal on the wall, and reached for the manual high-voltage breaker lever labeled: **CRYO-SUPPRESSION EMERGENCY HALT.**

Victoria’s confident smile vanished. "What are you doing? That triggers the liquid nitrogen fire suppressant! You'll freeze the entire room!"

"Liquid nitrogen freezes the air," I said calmly, looking her straight in the eyes. "It drops the temperature to minus fifty in four seconds. It halts thermal drives instantly, preserving the magnetic disks while killing electrical power."

"You'll suffocate in here!" Victoria screamed, lunging toward me.