Once alone, Robinson whirled on Janix with an aura of malice. "Speak, quickly! Who dares to cross me this way?"
Janix swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. "W-Well boss, from what I could dig up...it was one of your son's guys that leaked the tape. A low-level IT punk by the name of Jack Benson."
A muscle ticked in Robinson's jaw as he processed this betrayal. Of course - only someone on the inside could have planted such an insidious virus. But why?
"Find out everything you can on this Jack worm," he said in a tone of forced calm, narrowing his eyes to icy slits. "I want to know his reasons, his endgame, and most importantly - who's pulling his strings."
Janix bobbed his head quickly. "You got it, sir. I'll put some heat on the little rat until he squeals."
Robinson waved a hand in dismissal. "See that you do that. And Janix? I want this handled...delicately. Quietly."
The burly man's face split into a grin that would curdle milk. "No sweat, boss. He'll disappear, no muss no fuss."
Alone again, Robinson steepled his fingers and studied the security footage of the tape in question - grainy CCTV clips of his son in the throes of passion with some mystery woman. His jaw clenched as it looped, the mocking laughter echoing in his ears like the braying of demons.
This insult would be answered, by whatever means necessary. But for now, he had an image to preserve and a business empire to protect.
that morning, the scandalous tape was all over the news networks, every blogger and social media gossipmonger salivating over the leaked footage. Robinson watched in disgust, face set like granite, until his assistant announced a call.
"It's the PR team, sir. Shall I put them through?"
Robinson took a steadying breath before nodding. "Bring them on."
The tinny voice of his chief spin doctor issued from the phone. "Good morning, Mr. Robinson. We've prepared a statement regarding the footage that's been circulating--"
"Get on with it," Robinson snapped impatiently.
"Yes, well...we're advising you call a press conference to address this head-on. Denounce the video as a malicious forgery, a deep fake smear tactic against yourself and your company."
Robinson's lips twisted in a thin smile. Of course - deny, deflect, control the narrative at all costs.
"Very good. Make the necessary arrangements. We cannot allow this juvenile distraction to imperil our dealings any further."
"Understood, sir. We'll make this tawdry nonsense disappear promptly."
As the call ended, Robinson swiveled his chair to gaze out over the glittering Manhattan skyline with a grim satisfaction.
Soon the world would forget this lurid tape, this petty attempt to tarnish his empire. And the perpetrator?
Well, Janix would see to that particular loose end being...tied up. Permanently.
With a soft chuckle, Robinson pressed the intercom. "Actually, cancel my morning meetings. I have a malignant weed to prune from my garden..."
Kiara jerked upright in bed, chest heaving as she gulped down ragged breaths. Her nightshirt clung damply to her sweat-soaked skin as fragments of the nightmare clung like cobwebs in her mind.
Chaotic flashes - a deafening crash, thick smoke choking her lungs, screams reverberating all around. Panic gripped her heart even though she couldn't discern the source of such haunting images.
"Just a dream," she shakily told herself. "It was just a dream..."
But was it? An unsettling sense of unearned familiarity lingered, as though she'd lived those horrors before. Trembling, Kiara forced herself to take deep, calming breaths until her racing pulse slowed.
What was happening to her?
Unable to bear the confines of her darkened bedroom, Kiara slipped out of bed and quietly padded down the hallway, seeking refuge in the manor's gardens. The cool night air caressed her clammy skin as she settled onto a stone bench amid the fragrant blossoms.
Her mind remained stubbornly tangled, memories swirling in inchoate snatches - mangled images with no context, like scenes from disparate horror films on a constant, disorienting loop. Pressing her fingertips to her temples, Kiara struggled to make sense of it all.
She jumped nearly a foot as a clatter sounded from the bushes ahead. Scanning wildly, her eyes landed on a huddled form sprawled just off the cobblestone path.
Ice gripped Kiara's veins as she instantly recognized the unmistakable crimson sheen glazing the crumpled figure.
"Oh my god..."
Forgetting her own turmoil, she hurried forward on shaking legs. Up close, the heap resolved itself into what was unmistakably a man clad in dark clothing, limbs splayed at ghastly angles. A garish slash marred his throat, blood still sluggishly pulsing from the grievous wound.
Kiara recoiled with a gasp, her eyes wide with shock and horror. Never in her worst nightmares could she have imagined literally stumbling upon a fresh corpse!
Clutching her hands over her mouth to stifle her nauseous retches, she dizzily stumbled backward a few paces until her back struck the cool stone of the manor's wall. Her breath came in panicked wheezes as she blinked owlishly at the gruesome scene, trying to make sense of the madness she'd unwittingly discovered.
A metallic glint among the tangled foliage caught her eye - a straight razor, wickedly curved blade gleaming with fresh crimson. Clearly the murder weapon, fallen from the killer's grip mere moments before her arrival. Fragments of shredded fabric and mangled flesh surrounded it in a sickening crimson spray.