Chapter 9 - The Public Execution
The grand ballroom of the Pierre Hotel was a masterpiece of opulence, packed with the city's most powerful tech executives, digital marketers, and media titans. Marcus 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, the heavy mahogany doors swung open again.
Arthur Vance strode in, flanked by two private security contractors. He radiated an aura of toxic, arrogant victory, clutching a silver flash drive he believed held the final nail for my coffin. He marched straight toward the main stage, completely ignoring the stunned whispers of the elite crowd. He shoved past a gala organizer and grabbed the microphone from the podium.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Vance’s voice boomed over the speakers, dripping with venom. "Before anyone signs a single contract with Victoria Davenport, you need to see the truth! Her new empire is built on fraud and criminal bribery!"
He aggressively plugged his flash drive into the main AV console. He fully expected the massive eighty-foot digital screens surrounding the ballroom to play the fabricated Seedance 2.0 deepfake, exposing me 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 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 black-market VIA clone network directly to Vance’s private servers, and the raw source code of the AI deepfake. Finally, the audio system blasted a crystal-clear recorded phone call of Arthur Vance plotting to extort my investors using the fake video.
The entire gala erupted into shocked gasps and furious whispers. The billionaires and executives physically stepped away from Vance, looking at him with absolute, unadulterated disgust.
"You are a corporate terrorist, Arthur," 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 company."
Vance glared at me, his chest heaving, his face drained of all color. He looked at the screens, realized the gravity of his exposure, and literally backed away from the podium in sheer horror.
"FBI! Nobody move!"
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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 Vance’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, Arthur," I said coldly, looking down at the pathetic, broken man as he was dragged off the stage. "Enjoy federal prison."
