I never told my husband I owned a five-billion-dollar empire. To him, I was still “the useless housewife.” At his promotion party, he forced me to wear a maid’s uniform and serve drinks, while his mistress sat in the place of honor, wearing my jewelry. I kept my head down and served quietly—until his boss saw me and stopped cold. He bowed slightly and said, “Good evening, Madam Chairwoman.” My husband laughed nervously. “Sir, you must be mistaken—she’s just my wife.” His boss looked at him and replied, “No. You work for her.” My husband’s face drained of color. What happened next left him completely shattered.

She pulled out her phone. It was 8:00 PM.

She opened an encrypted app and typed a single message to the CEO of the holding company, Arthur Sterling.

Message: Execute Plan Omega. The stage is yours.

The lights in the ballroom flickered. The smooth jazz music cut out, replaced by a low, ominous hum of feedback.

“What’s going on?” Mark muttered, looking around. “Did we lose power?”

A voice boomed from the overhead speakers, god-like in its volume.

“Will the new Marketing Director please come to the stage to receive… a special decision from the Chairman of the Board.”

Mark’s face lit up. He turned to Jessica. “This is it. The Chairman is finally acknowledging me. Maybe a bonus? Maybe equity?”

He grabbed Jessica’s hand. “Come on. Let’s go make history.”

They walked toward the stage, beaming, unaware that the giant LED screen behind them—which had been displaying the company logo—was glitching. The logo was dissolving, pixel by pixel, revealing something else entirely.

As Mark and Jessica ascended the stairs to the stage, the heavy double doors at the back of the ballroom swung open.

A group of six men and women in dark suits entered. They moved with the synchronized precision of a predatory pack. In the center was Arthur Sterling, the public-facing CEO of NovaStream. He was a terrifying man—six foot four, with silver hair and a reputation for eating competitors for lunch.

Mark froze on stage. “Mr. Sterling!” he called out, waving frantically. “Over here!”

Sterling didn’t look at the stage. He and his entourage walked straight through the crowd, parting the sea of guests. They were heading toward the back corner. Toward the shadows.

Mark frowned. “He must not see me. The lights are in his eyes.”

“Mark,” Jessica hissed, tugging his sleeve. “Look at the screen.”

“Not now, Jessica. I need to get Sterling’s attention.”

“Mark! Look!”

Mark turned around. The massive screen behind him wasn’t showing his sales figures. It was showing a live feed from a security camera.

The camera was positioned inside an office. Mark’s office.

On the screen, recorded footage played. It showed Mark sitting at his desk, feet up. He was on the phone.

Mark (On Screen): “Yeah, just put it on the company card. Category ‘Client Entertainment.’ Who cares? The auditors are idiots. My wife? Ha! She thinks I’m working late. She’s so gullible it’s pathetic. I could tell her the sky is green and she’d start painting the ceiling.”

The ballroom went deathly silent.

Mark turned pale. “That… that’s a deepfake! AI! Someone is sabotaging me!”

He looked down at Sterling, desperate for an ally. “Mr. Sterling! You have to stop this! Security!”

Sterling finally stopped walking. He was standing three feet in front of Elena.

Mark blinked. Why was the CEO standing in front of his frumpy wife?

“Hey!” Mark yelled at Elena. “You! Get out of the way! You’re blocking Mr. Sterling’s path! Go… go get him a drink or something!”

Jessica grabbed the microphone on the podium. “Security! Please remove that woman in the black dress! She’s ruining the aesthetic!”

Elena didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She slowly reached up and removed the clip from her hair, letting it cascade down her shoulders. She straightened her spine, seemingly growing three inches taller. The “housewife” posture vanished, replaced by the steel-reinforced stance of a titan.

Continue READING