When my apartment burned down, I called my parents for help. My mom’s only response was, “Not our problem. Should’ve been more careful.” Then the fire investigator asked who had access to my apartment last week, because they had found something at the scene. What he showed me made my bl:ood run cold.

Before they could reach the shipping yards, the system struck back.

The next afternoon, the State Board of Architects, heavily influenced by Thorne's political allies, called an emergency hearing. They moved to immediately strip Claire of her professional license and freeze Whitman Safeguard’s operational accounts, citing the library fire as gross negligence.

Claire walked into the hearing room with her head held high. The board members looked at her with cold, unsympathetic eyes.

"Ms. Whitman," the board president said, "the evidence against your firm is overwhelming. Your lead engineer has confessed to sabotage, but we must protect the public from your family’s... volatile history."

"My family's history is not my own," Claire said, her voice carrying an authority that silenced the room. "And the evidence you are looking at is a cover-up for a corporate syndicate."

Daniel stepped forward, accompanied by two federal agents from the Department of Justice. He placed a laptop on the projection table, displaying the cloned transactions from Thorne's Panama accounts, along with the decoded maps of the underground vaults beneath the shipping yards.

"This is not a case of negligence," Daniel declared. "This is an act of domestic terrorism funded by Alastair Thorne to destroy a historical landmark and seize federal land. We have the forensic signatures, the wire transfers, and the testimony of Marcus, who is currently under federal protection."

The board members looked at each other in stunned silence. The president's hand shook as he reached for his gavel.