Chapter 9 - The Public Execution
We didn't just have evidence; we had a loaded digital weapon. But to maximize the destruction and ensure Marcus’s permanent downfall, the execution had to be flawless and unequivocally public.
I knew Marcus’s narcissistic need for public validation was his greatest weakness. To lure him out, I had my marketing team draft a fabricated, highly confidential internal memo using perfectly calibrated, suspenseful clickbait phrasing designed to bait an intercept. The memo stated that APT was on the verge of total bankruptcy due to the Meta lock, and that my only hope was a massive emergency buyout happening on Friday night at a prestigious industry gala at the St. Regis.
I had Giang quietly drop the encrypted memo into a server pathway we knew Marcus was still monitoring.
Marcus took the bait instantly. He planned to crash the gala, armed with his fake deepfake data on a flash drive, to publicly humiliate me in front of the acquiring executives and kill the deal forever.
He thought he was walking into my funeral. He didn't realize I had built his guillotine.
The grand ballroom of the St. Regis was a masterpiece of opulence, packed with the city's most powerful tech executives. Ethan and I walked through the grand double doors, an imposing, impenetrable fortress of absolute power. I wore a backless, crimson silk gown that commanded the attention of the entire room.
At exactly 9:00 PM, Marcus strode in. He marched straight toward the main stage, shoved past a security guard, and grabbed the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Marcus’s voice boomed over the speakers, dripping with venom and arrogant victory. "Before anyone signs a single contract with this woman, you need to see the truth! Sarah is a massive fraud!"
He aggressively plugged his flash drive into the main AV console, expecting the massive eighty-foot digital screens surrounding the ballroom to play his fabricated deepfake.
I stood in the center of the room, calmly sipping my vintage champagne, and gave a subtle, sharp nod to Ethan.
In the production booth high above, Giang and Tới hijacked the main feed.
The screens didn't display my face. They illuminated with undeniable, damning evidence of corporate cyber-terrorism. The colossal screens displayed the wire transfer receipts, the IP logs tying the VIA clone network directly to Marcus’s penthouse, and the raw source code of the AI deepfake. Finally, the audio system blasted a crystal-clear recorded phone call of Marcus plotting to extort my investors.
The entire gala erupted into shocked gasps. Executives physically stepped away from Marcus, looking at him with absolute disgust.
"You are a corporate terrorist," I said, my voice echoing clearly through the silent room. "You used illegal bot farms and AI deepfakes to manipulate the market."
"FBI! Nobody move!"
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The command thundered through the ballroom. Dozens of heavily armed federal agents from the Cyber Crimes Division swarmed the room. Laser sights danced across Marcus’s chest as the lead agent violently pulled his arms behind his back to snap heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists.
"You made your choice, Marcus," I said coldly, looking down at the broken man. "Enjoy federal prison."
