Charles Thorne walked back into the library, his expensive silk suit still rumpled from the evening. His face was a mask of gray emotional exhaustion from his meeting. The air in the house felt heavy, thick with the unspoken consequence of his actions. He hadn't just signed a paper; he had signed away two decades of defense. The sudden quiet felt deafening. He paused, bracing himself for the confrontation he knew awaited him, dreading a cold pool in his gut.
Victoria was waiting, a brandy glass in her hand, her panic barely veiled. She rushed toward him, her voice tight and high-pitched. Well, Charles? What did you tell her? Did you protect our shares? Did you tell her we're fighting the board motion? Her fingers dug into his arm.
Charles just looked at her, the guilt momentarily replaced by cold accusation. I told her the truth, Victoria. I told her I was a coward. He pulled his arm away gently but firmly.
Don't be sentimental! What about the papers? She hissed, her voice rising.
"I signed them," Charles said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. I gave Elias Vance my support for the board change. I won't stop her, Victoria. I won't be a coward again. The relief of having made a choice, however disastrous, settled over him like a shroud.
Victoria screamed, a short, sharp sound of pure terror. She staggered back, the brandy glass slipping from her numb fingers to shatter harmlessly on the thick rug. You idiot! You signed our death warrant! She's going to expose everything! The company is gone! Your reputation is gone! She was panting now, clutching her chest. The money, Charles! The trust funds! She'll find it all! We'll be ruined! Shame! Complete, utter shame!"
The screaming brought Chloe Thorne rushing into the doorway. Chloe, a striking young woman known for her flawlessly curated image as a high-end lifestyle and social media mogul, froze. Her brand, 'Chloe's Life,' was built on showcasing luxury and setting trends.
"Mom, what is going on?" Chloe asked, her influencer composure cracking.
Victoria turned to her daughter, her eyes wild. Your father betrayed us, Chloe! That girl, Aria, she's taking the company! She's going to use the assets to launch a fashion house, a direct attack on your work! She wants to destroy us for the past!
Chloe went white, not from financial fear, but from the word 'fashion house'. She didn't need to hear another word. Her mother's panic was a distraction; the word 'fashion house' was the true enemy. Her secret goal was to launch her own legitimate luxury line and escape the 'influencer' label. Now, that dream was threatened by a rival who had superior talent and access to their family's deep textile wealth. She had overheard enough to know the goals were personal revenge and creative dominance.
A cold, calculating focus replaced Chloe's initial shock. She quickly retreated, her mind racing. She knew her mother's physical or financial resistance would fail. Aria was too secretive, too untouchable. Aria always avoided the spotlight: traveling constantly, never giving interviews. Chloe instantly recognized that this lack of a media footprint was Aria's vulnerability and her shield for her secret life. Forcing Aria into the spotlight, exposing her hidden life to the scrutiny Chloe thrived in, was the only way to destroy her. Chloe's weapon wasn't money; it was fame, and she knew exactly how to wield it. She needed to act before Aria secured total control.
The black sedan carrying Aria Vance and Elias Vance moved smoothly through the deserted streets of the warehouse district, the silence inside the car broken only by the low hum of the engine. Aria was driving directly into the trap she had allowed Victoria to set. The interior of the executive sedan was dark, a contrast to the neon glow reflecting off the wet asphalt outside. Aria, in the passenger seat, was utterly still.
"We are approaching the zone, Commander," Elias said, his voice taut. He was checking the feed on a discreet wrist-mounted device. His body was coiled with a soldier's protective tension. He feared the failure to protect his high-ranking operative. He hated that she chose to put herself in this position, valuing proof over precaution.
"Stop the car in the center of the intersection," Aria commanded the driver. Elias's own driver, a highly trained professional, executed the order without question.
The moment the car halted, the night exploded into chaotic, immediate action. Two heavy-duty, unmarked black vans roared out of side streets, blocking the sedan instantly both ahead and behind. They were large, intimidating obstacles designed to cause panic. The smell of burning rubber briefly filled the air.
Before the driver could react, the doors of the vans flew open. Five large, rough-looking men in dark clothes boiled out. They moved with crude, aggressive speed, not precision, confirming they were Victoria's hired amateurs. The lead man rushed straight for Aria's door, brandishing a heavy crowbar.
"Out of the car, now!" the thug yelled, slamming the crowbar against the window, a loud, shattering crack instantly absorbed by the sedan's reinforced, executive glass.
Aria did not wait. She had anticipated this kinetic ambush.
"Elias, neutralize the rear flank," Aria commanded calmly. Contain the threat. I will handle the primary aggressor.
Elias, nodded once. He did not waste time opening the door; he kicked it open, using the heavy door as a shield as he burst out. His mercenary training was focused on swift, brutal defense. He moved towards the two men approaching the rear. He delivered two staggering blows, powerful, focused punches to the gut and jaw, designed to incapacitate and cause immediate submission. The men crumpled, stunned and breathless, momentarily removed from the fight.
Meanwhile, Aria exited the car on the opposite side of the immediate threat. She moved with a controlled, lethal grace that contrasted sharply with the thugs' clumsy aggression.
The lead thug, frustrated by the reinforced window, lunged around the car, swinging the crowbar toward her head in a wide, powerful arc.
Aria met the attack head-on. She did not dodge. Instead, she performed a small, perfectly timed sidestep and parry. Her left hand flashed out, catching the thug's wrist as it passed, momentarily arresting the crowbar's momentum. In the same breath, her right hand delivered a specialized hammer-fist strike to the nerve cluster in the thug's neck. This move was designed not to kill, but to cause immediate, non-lethal sensory overload.
The thug's eyes rolled back in his head. His arm went limp, the crowbar clattering to the asphalt. He fell like a sack of stones, completely unconscious before he hit the ground. He was neutralized with a single, devastating strike.
The remaining two thugs, witnessing the immediate, silent neutralization of their leader, panicked. They turned and attempted to retreat toward one of the vans.
Aria was already moving. She launched into a controlled, sprinting pursuit. She didn't need to catch them; she needed information.
As one man scrambled to open the van door, Aria closed the distance. She delivered a stunning, precise kick to the back of his knee, crippling his leg and sending him sprawling. As he fell, she dropped low and executed a single, blindingly fast search and retrieval. She expertly plucked a small, encrypted key fob, a known signature of Victoria's black-market contacts, from his utility belt.
She did not wait to engage the last man. She spun and retreated to the sedan, her objective achieved. Elias was already back inside, confirming the area was clear and pulling a secure satellite phone from beneath his seat.
The entire engagement lasted less than forty seconds. The street was left with five groaning, immobilized thugs and two vans with their doors hanging open.
We have the fob, Commander. The contact information is secured, Elias reported, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts. He handed the fob to Aria.
"Contact the Vance Global VP," Aria commanded, her voice steady, as she checked her suit for a wrinkle. Tell them to send a clean-up crew and notify the police, an anonymous tip about a 'gang brawl.' They are not to mention me or the Thorne family. Victoria will not know the ambush failed until the board meeting tomorrow.
Elias looked at her with his intense, possessive gaze. That was an unnecessary risk, Commander. They could have been armed.
"The risk was calculated, Elias," Aria replied, allowing a brief flicker of cold amusement. Victoria Thorne needs to believe her efforts were successful. And I needed proof of her direct criminal involvement. Now, we have it. The driver quickly drove the sedan away from the wreckage. Aria was already moving on to the next phase of her plan.
Across town, the Aether members, Jax, Kellan, Rhys, and Nick, were preparing for a very different kind of battle: a corporate negotiation for their new endorsement deal. This was the real work of a superstar band.
They were in the Zenith Records boardroom, dressed in clothes that showcased their individual styles, ready to sign a contract with a global high-end fashion house, Gucci. The room was all polished glass and high-backed leather chairs.
Damian Reed was there, looking relieved to be dealing with profitable celebrity business rather than corporate espionage. Beside him was Silas, the manager, and Mr. Tony, the Legal Counsel.
"Gentlemen, this is massive," Damian said, smiling broadly. Gucci wants Aether to be the face of their new 'Genderless Luxury' line. This is a three-year, multi-platform deal. The retainer is $25 million, plus royalties on co-branded merchandise. This isn't just an endorsement; it's a creative partnership. He slid a thick contract across the table.
Mr. Tony leaned forward. The terms are tight, gentlemen. We negotiated an airtight morals clause and exclusive rights to use the Gucci brand in your next three music videos, including Eclipse. The deliverables are ten social media posts per quarter, two public appearances per year, and exclusive wear of the brand for all public-facing events.
Jax nodded, reviewing the details. He was focused on creative control. We need final approval on all concepts, and we need to ensure the Gucci aesthetic complements our new Eclipse era, not defines it. The music must always lead the fashion.
Rhys, ever the fashion enthusiast, was excited. The clothes are amazing. This aligns perfectly with the choreography we're planning. Gucci's bold style is the energy of our performance.
Kellan, more concerned with their devoted fans, asked, Will this mean a lot of time away from recording or fan interactions? Our audience is our priority. We can't lose touch with the people who got us here.
Silas jumped in smoothly. No, Kellan. This is fan interaction. We're setting the trend. We have a fan Q&A live stream scheduled for Friday. This deal feeds the machine.
Nick, whose mind was still on the Thorne family situation, spoke up. The contract states ten social media posts per quarter. Can we structure those to be strategically timed? We want to control our own narrative, especially with the Thorne drama unfolding.
"Absolutely," Mr. Tony confirmed. The schedule is flexible. We control the timing.
As they discussed the final clauses, Silas's phone buzzed with an urgent, encrypted message. Silas read it and his face tightened.
"Jax, an update on the Thorne situation," Silas said, keeping his voice low and professional. Victoria's plan failed. There was a violent ambush on Aria Vance in the docks. Five thugs. One was left unconscious. Aria and Elias are clean. No police report was filed by them.
Jax's eyes sharpened, the strategist immediately returning. Victoria hired muscle to neutralize Aria before the vote. She hired amateurs, Jax deduced. That confirms her desperation. Elias let her handle it. He's not a protective CEO; he's her loyal brother, trusting her capability. Jax felt a sudden, potent jealousy about the power Elias held over Aria's dangerous life.
"And the media is already pivoting, Jax," Nick added, showing his phone. A teaser just dropped. A freelance journalist is promising an 'expose' on the mysterious shareholder Aria Vance the one who avoids all media. This isn't a leak, it's a media attack to force her into the spotlight.
Jax looked at the lucrative Gucci contract. The $25 million deal was their shield, their platform, and their weapon.
"Perfect," Jax stated, a cold, strategic smile touching his lips. Victoria used force and failed. Now, fame is being used as a weapon, and fame is our domain.
He grabbed his pen and signed the contract with a swift, decisive flourish.
Nick, your mission changes. Victoria is ruined, a spent force. We focus on us, Jax commanded, his voice sharp and decisive. We use this Gucci deal as a launchpad. The media war starts now.
"We need to execute Project Eclipse Saturation," Jax leaned forward, his focus absolute. Aria Vance is now our exclusive creative muse. We will flood every media platform, every major outlet, and every fan forum with our brand, our new sound, and the bold aesthetic of this Gucci deal. We don't need to attack the source of the leak; we need to bury the story.
Now, let's integrate that Jax solo track you liked, Nick, into the album. It's the perfect high-energy beat for the upcoming media war.
He looked at his bandmates. We need to be ready for the spotlight. The corporate war is over. The media war is just beginning. Let's get fitted for those Gucci suits, gentlemen. We need to look at the part of the victor.