Sinclair's Reign

Chapter Eight - The Hacker's Gambit

The war room of the Moretti estate was built for men who thought empires were won with maps and cigars. A long oak table stretched the length of the chamber, covered in ledgers, manifests, and thick folders that smelled like money laundered three times over.

Nova sat at the head. Not Matteo. Not Julian. Nova.

Her father's stolen drive spun slowly in the middle of the table, projecting its data onto the screen behind her. Movement of cash. Shell companies. The Hermes Courier link that tied the Nakamuras to her father's disappearance.

And five men staring at her like she was both prize and threat.

Matteo's jaw was clenched, his eyes sharp and cold. Adrian lounged, cigarette between his fingers, grin reckless and baiting. Damien leaned against the wall, arms folded, silent but watchful. Julian twirled a pen, eyes fixed on her with amused calculation. And Kai... Kai stood at the far end, calm and unreadable, the rival who'd walked into the lion's den without flinching.

"You shouldn't even be here," Matteo said flatly, his voice a blade aimed at Kai.

"On the contrary," Kai replied smoothly, "I should be everywhere you don't want me."

"Cute," Adrian drawled. "But the only reason you're breathing is because Sinclair hasn't decided you're expendable yet."

Nova smirked. "Relax, boys. If I wanted him dead, he'd already be bleeding on your carpet."

The silence that followed was electric. Even Damien's gaze flickered, the barest hint of approval in his stone-carved face.

Julian leaned forward, tapping the folder closest to him. "The point isn't who's in the room. The point is the ledger. This drive changes the balance of power. Which means"—he looked at her, not Matteo—"the balance belongs to Sinclair."

Matteo's hands pressed flat against the table. "She is not in control of this family."

Nova rose slowly, circling the table like a predator in glasses and leather. "Oh, Matteo... you still think you're the one holding the crown. But who decrypted the accounts? Who followed the trail your men missed? Who's sitting at your table, showing you what even your father never dared to see?"

She stopped behind his chair, her fingers brushing the leather as she leaned down close enough to murmur into his ear. "The king doesn't scare me. And you know it."

For a heartbeat, Matteo didn't move. Then he turned his head slightly, eyes locking with hers, ice and fire colliding.

Adrian chuckled, breaking the spell. "God, I love watching this. She makes you sweat, brother."

Julian smiled faintly. "She makes all of us sweat. That's the point."

Kai finally spoke, his voice calm, deliberate. "The question isn't whether she belongs to the Moretti's. The question is whether any of you can survive without her."

The words landed heavy. And for once, none of them argued.

Nova stepped back to the head of the table, her gaze sweeping them all—Matteo's steel, Adrian's fire, Damien's silence, Julian's wit, Kai's shadow. She let the tension hang, savoring the way they watched her.

"Here's the truth," she said at last, her voice steady, commanding. "You don't get to choose me. I choose how this plays out. And if any of you think you can leash me—" she tapped the drive, the data bleeding red across the screen—"I'll burn every empire in this city to ash."

The room was silent. Until Damien, of all people, spoke.

"She means it."

Adrian's grin widened. Matteo's jaw ticked. Julian's eyes glittered. Kai's lips curved.

And Nova Sinclair leaned back in her chair, a queen without a crown yet, but one every man in that room had already started orbiting.