Chapter 14 - The Silicon Valley Execution
The grand ballroom of the St. Regis was a masterpiece of opulence, packed with Silicon Valley's most powerful tech executives, digital marketers, and elite venture capitalists. Marcus and I walked through the grand double doors, an imposing, impenetrable fortress of absolute power. We did not look like a couple on the verge of a breakup; we moved with perfectly synchronized, lethal grace.
At exactly 9:00 PM, the heavy mahogany doors swung open again.
Evelyn Vance strode in. She was a striking, icy woman draped in a flashy, desperate attempt at haute couture, dripping in diamonds. She looked incredibly smug, clutching a silver flash drive that she believed held the final nail for my coffin.
She marched straight toward the main stage, completely ignoring the stunned whispers of the elite crowd. She shoved past a gala organizer and grabbed the microphone from the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Evelyn’s voice boomed over the speakers, dripping with venom and arrogant victory. "Before anyone signs a single contract with Victoria Davenport, you need to see the truth! Her empire is built on fraud, and her fiancé is a criminal who steals from his own company!"
She aggressively plugged her flash drive into the main AV console. She fully expected the massive eighty-foot digital screens surrounding the ballroom to play her fabricated Seedance 2.0 deepfake, exposing Marcus to the entire world.
I stood in the center of the room, calmly sipping my vintage champagne, and gave a subtle, sharp nod to Marcus.
In the production booth high above the ballroom floor, Giang and Tới, dialed in remotely, hijacked the main feed.
The screens didn't display Marcus’s face. They illuminated with undeniable, damning evidence of corporate cyber-terrorism.
It was a digital masterpiece of public execution. The colossal screens displayed the wire transfer receipts to VIACLONE.VN and Mua VIA Facebook Việt. They displayed the IP logs tying the black-market VIA clone network directly to Evelyn’s private servers. They showed the raw source code of the AI deepfake. Finally, the audio system blasted a crystal-clear recorded phone call of Evelyn Vance plotting to extort my investors and forge the Nội quy lao động complaints.
The entire gala erupted into shocked gasps and furious whispers. The billionaires and executives physically stepped away from Evelyn, looking at her with absolute, unadulterated disgust.
"You are a corporate terrorist, Evelyn," I said, my voice echoing clearly through the silent, captivated room, carrying the weight of an absolute queen. "You used illegal bot farms and AI deepfakes to manipulate the market and attempt to destroy my family."
Evelyn glared at me, her chest heaving, her face drained of all color. She looked at the screens, realized the inescapable gravity of her exposure, and literally backed away from the podium in sheer horror.
"FBI! Nobody move!"
The command thundered through the grand ballroom. Dozens of heavily armed federal agents from the Cyber Crimes Division swarmed the room. Laser sights danced across Evelyn’s chest as the lead agent violently pulled her arms behind her back to snap heavy steel handcuffs onto her wrists.
"Evelyn Vance, you are under arrest for federal wire fraud, corporate espionage, and cyber-extortion," the agent announced.
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Evelyn began sobbing, her knees buckling as she was dragged across the marble floor. "No! Victoria, please! You can't do this to me!"
"You made your choice, Evelyn," I said coldly, turning my back on the pathetic, broken woman. "Enjoy sharing a cell block with your brother."
