Chapter 2 - The Blame Game
The Citadel was in lockdown. Private security contractors, armed and dressed in tactical gear, swarmed the estate. The water had eventually drained through the emergency subterranean spillways, leaving the atrium a graveyard of dead sea life, ruined art, and shattered acrylic.
Chloe was bundled in thermal blankets in the upper-level medical bay. She was Julian’s estranged daughter, brought to the Citadel only to negotiate her inheritance. Now, she was staring blankly at the wall, the trauma of the near-death experience settling into her bones.
Finn was not in the medical bay. He was in the security holding room, handcuffed to a steel table.
The heavy door swung open, and Julian walked in, flanked by two armed guards. He looked pristine, having changed into a sharp, charcoal suit, completely masking the chaos that had just unfolded downstairs.
"Let's be very clear about how this is going to play out," Julian said, his voice smooth and deadly. "The damage to the Citadel is in the hundreds of millions. The loss of the biological specimens is incalculable. And the PR disaster for Blackwood Deep-Sea Excavations will tank our stock by morning."
"You ignored the diagnostic reports," Finn countered, refusing to back down. "The acrylic was rated for static pressure, but the new filtration pumps you ordered installed created a rhythmic vibration. It shattered the structural integrity."
"A convenient theory," Julian sneered. "But my lead investigators just pulled the telemetry data from the vault’s mainframe. The vibration wasn't a mechanical error. It was introduced manually. Someone rewrote the pump algorithms to create a resonant frequency designed to shatter the acrylic. Someone with tertiary systems access. Someone like you."
Finn’s blood ran cold. He realized exactly what was happening. Julian wasn't just arrogant; he was cornered, and he needed a scapegoat.
"You're framing me to cover your own negligence," Finn said, his voice low.
"I am protecting the Blackwood legacy," Julian corrected. "You will sign a full confession of corporate sabotage, stating you were paid by our rivals. In exchange, I will ensure you serve your time in a minimum-security facility. If you refuse, my lawyers will tie you in so much litigation that your grandchildren will be paying off the debt, and you will rot in a federal black site."
Before Finn could answer, the door opened again. Chloe stood there, still pale, holding a digital tablet. "He's not signing anything, Dad."
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Julian glared at his daughter. "Chloe, this does not concern you."
"It concerns me because he just saved my life while you stood there worrying about your fish," Chloe snapped. She threw the tablet onto the table. "I pulled the network logs from the secondary server before your security goons locked it down. The algorithm change didn't come from Finn's terminal. It came from an external IP address. An offshore rig."
