Dante publicly declared our engagement void, pulling his mistress, Siena, into my joint seat. He demanded I surrender the platinum key card for the North American accounts. When I remained silent, guards pinned my shoulders, violently forcing my fingerprint onto the control tablet for a complete identity cancellation. Tonight, I faced an irreversible choice. Instead of safely retreating to the European headquarters, I chose to stay and personally purge this corrupted empire. The cost was absolute: I must forever abandon my peaceful disguise to embrace an isolated, ruthless throne. As my finger touched the screen, Dante smirked. He had no idea my biometric bracelet was secretly downloading his offshore ledger. The progress bar just hit ninety-five percent, leaving my survival hanging on whether the data would synchronize in time.