The metal case opened with a soft metallic click, releasing a faint hiss of preserved air. John stood still, watching the slow rise of the lid as if something alive slept inside. The room darkened around him, pulling all focus to the small object resting within.
A single cube.
Transparent.
Cold.
Almost innocent-looking.
Celine stepped aside and gestured toward it.
"This is the last message your father made before he died," she said. "It was never meant for the public. It was never meant for the board. It was meant for one person."
John waited.
"You," Celine said quietly.
He moved closer. The cube read the warmth of his hand before he even touched it. A soft glow pulsed through its surface, reacting to him, recognising him.
Harold had coded it with his bloodline.
John lifted it gently.
The room sealed itself with a soft rumble. Celine folded her arms, watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Play it," John said.
Celine nodded once.
The cube projected a faint beam of light that built itself into a holographic figure.
Harold Raymond.
Older. Tired. Shoulders weighted with secrets. His eyes flickered as though he was already speaking from the edge of death.
John inhaled sharply.
The recording began.
"My son. If you are seeing this, then I failed."
John's heart punched against his ribs.
Harold continued, his voice calm but heavy.
"I built The Crest to protect our line from the forces that were rising around us. Not the corporate snakes, not the Benefactor's followers, not the public enemies. I built it for something worse. Something far older."
Celine watched John carefully.
Harold's voice deepened.
"There are people inside this building who do not answer to me. They do not answer to the board. They do not answer to any throne of power. They have waited for decades. They are patient. They are quiet. And they believe the Raymond name should never have controlled this empire."
John clenched the cube tighter.
Harold continued.
"I once thought they were only shadows. I was wrong. They are more organised than any force you have faced. They call themselves the Founding Circle."
John frowned. He had never heard the name.
Harold kept speaking.
"They are the ones who destroyed my brother. They are the ones who funded the Benefactor. They are the ones who infiltrated my upper floors. They are the reason I have not slept for years."
A sick feeling slid through John's stomach.
Harold's final words struck like iron.
"And one of their leaders is standing beside you."
John froze.
Slowly, almost painfully, he turned his head toward Celine.
She did not flinch.
The cube fell silent. The recording ended.
The room was colder now, as if Harold's ghost remained between them.
John stared at her. "Is he telling the truth?"
Celine met his gaze without fear. "Part of it."
"Which part?"
"That I was one of them," Celine said.
John took one slow step back.
She continued, unhurried.
"The Founding Circle recruited me when I was twenty-one. They offered me access to information Harold tried to bury. They wanted to control him. When they failed, they wanted to replace him. Yes, I was their analyst. I was their strategist. I was their eyes inside his floors."
John's hands tightened.
"But," she added quietly, "I left the Circle five years ago."
John's voice dropped to a cold whisper. "Wh?"
Celine stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"Because Harold showed me something far more dangerous than the Circle. Something the Benefactor barely understood. Something that will come for you if you do not learn fast."
John did not blink.
Celine walked past him and placed a hand on the table.
"John, I did not isolate this floor to trap you. I isolated it to protect you. The Circle has eyes in places you would not believe. They must never know you now hold your father's final message."
John exhaled slowly. "You expect me to trust you."
"No," Celine said, turning to face him again. "I expect you to survive."
Her eyes softened just slightly.
"And survival means aligning with people who understand the game, even if you hate them."
John stepped toward her. "You worked for the enemies who killed my father."
She held his gaze. "And I am the only one who can teach you how to stop them."
Silence crashed between them.
The emergency lights flickered.
John placed the cube back into the case carefully, sealing it with a sharp click.
Then he straightened.
His voice was calm. Controlled.
"You will tell me everything."
Celine nodded once. "I will."
"But not here," he added. "And not alone."
Celine's brow lifted. "Rita and Morgan."
"Yes," John said.
Celine sighed softly. "Then you need to know something before we leave this floor."
She stepped forward, so close her voice felt like a whisper of wind against stone.
"The Circle never wanted the Benefactor at the top. He was only a distraction. Their real target was someone else entirely."
"Who?"
Celine's answer chilled him more than the room ever could.
"You."
John's breath stalled.
"They believe you are the final threat," she said. "The last Raymond, they cannot control. And they are preparing to kill you before you grow too powerful."
John did not look away. "Let them try."
Celine's eyes flashed with something between admiration and warning.
"They already have."
A sudden tremor rippled through the floor.
John turned sharply.
Celine's eyes widened. "Someone is breaching the lower firewall."
John's mind snapped into motion. "Rita."
Celine nodded. "She is trying to rescue you. She does not understand what she is triggering."
Another tremor.
Lights flickered.
A cold alarm began to hum.
Celine looked at John. "If she forces that lock, the entire floor will purge. We must reach the core before she completes the breach."
John moved toward the door with decisive speed.
"Then we run," he said.
Celine followed.
And behind them, the cube glowed like a silent heartbeat.
A heartbeat carrying a legacy that could reshape every war inside The Crest