“I believe you wanted to discuss a merger, Mr. Trask?” Neva’s voice, a velvet blade, cut through the stunned silence of the Veridian Gala’s Grand Conservatory. Gerrick choked on a dry swallow, his ribs seizing. “Neva, what… what is this?” His voice was a strangled rasp, the arrogance that had defined him evaporating like mist. Olenna, beside him, had turned a ghastly shade of white, her lips trembling as she stared at the woman she’d delighted in tormenting. Neva gave him a bright, untroubled beam, though her gaze tracked him like a hawk studying field mice. “This, Gerrick, is a corporate restructuring. A necessary recalibration.” She gestured towards a discreetly placed security detail. “And now, if you’ll excuse us, Mr. Trask, the Dassein Group has a very important board meeting to attend. Your presence is… expected.” Minutes later, the polished onyx table of the Apex Boardroom reflected the grim faces of Trask Dynamics’ last remaining directors. Gerrick sat stiffly, Olenna rigid beside him, while Neva occupied the head seat, an air of serene command settling around her like a silken cloak. A holographic projection shimmered above the table, displaying an intricate web of financials that spelled the Trask firm's doom. “The acquisition of Trask's neuro-enhancement patents is complete,” Neva announced, her gaze sweeping the room. “All outstanding shares have been absorbed by the Dassein Group. Effective immediately, your firm ceases to exist as an independent entity.” Gerrick slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing hollowly. “This is a hostile takeover! An illegal ambush!” Neva’s smile remained unwavering, though a flicker of something sharp danced in her eyes. “Hostile? Perhaps. Illegal? No. Your due diligence, Mr. Trask, was regrettably lacking. Every clause, every sub-section of our prenuptial agreement, which you personally drafted and had me sign, clearly outlined the terms of intellectual property ownership. Any technological advancements made during the marriage, by either party, remained the sole property of the Dassein Group. Your legal team, I assure you, approved it.” Olenna gasped, a sound of utter despair. She had pushed for that iron-clad prenup, confident Neva, the ‘ditzy art history graduate,’ would never contribute anything of value. The irony was a bitter draught. “Your ‘limited talents’ in business,” Neva continued, quoting his past dismissal with chilling precision, “apparently extended to securing your own downfall. Furthermore, the Dassein Group has acquired your primary investors’ debt at a significant discount. They were, shall we say, eager to divest.” Just then, the heavy boardroom doors swung open, revealing a man who moved with the contained power of a coiled spring. Kasen Yarrow, CEO of the rival medical conglomerate, Veridia Industries, entered, his dark suit impeccable, his eyes holding a familiar, knowing glint. He offered Neva a slow, appreciative nod before settling into a vacant chair at the far end of the table, an observer in a high-stakes game. A faint, knowing smile played on his lips. “Yarrow, what are you doing here?” Gerrick spat, his frustration boiling over. “This is private Dassein business!” Kasen’s gaze drifted to Gerrick, a cool, appraising look. “My apologies, Trask. I received an invitation, courtesy of the Dassein Group, to observe the… divestiture. Fascinating process, truly.” His eyes met Neva’s, an intellectual recognition passing between them. “A rather elegant move, Neva. The quiet accumulation of debt, the tactical strike on the patents… you haven’t lost your touch.” Neva inclined her head slightly. “One learns to adapt, Kasen. Or one is consumed.” “Indeed,” Kasen murmured, his smile widening almost imperceptibly. “The corporate jungle is not for the faint of heart. Or the unprepared.” Gerrick’s face contorted in a mask of fury. He lurched to his feet, circling the table towards Neva, his posture aggressive, his hands clenching. “You think this is over? You think you can just take everything I’ve built?” He leaned over her, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “You’ll regret this, Neva. You’ll regret crossing me.” Before Gerrick could take another step, Kasen, without apparent effort, rose from his chair. He stepped directly across Gerrick’s path with a casual lean against the table, a deceptively relaxed posture that nonetheless created an impassable barrier. “Perhaps, Trask,” Kasen’s voice was calm, almost bored, “you should focus on what little you have left, rather than threatening the Dassein CEO. It tends to be… counterproductive.” Gerrick glowered, but the casual authority in Kasen’s tone, the sheer dismissiveness of his presence, robbed Gerrick of his momentum. He seethed, humiliated, his hand clenching, then suddenly, violently, it spasmed. His fingers curled inwards, an uncontrolled tremor shaking his entire arm, before relaxing just as abruptly. Neva’s eyes, sharp and clinical, narrowed almost imperceptibly at the involuntary movement. A rare neuromuscular disorder, she instantly cataloged. A progressive nerve deterioration. She’d seen precisely two cases in her career, both terminal. The corner of her mouth twitched. Interesting. The meeting concluded with Gerrick and Olenna’s ignominious departure, leaving Neva and Kasen alone for a brief moment. “That was quite the performance, Neva,” Kasen said, his eyes still holding a hint of amusement. “A masterclass in corporate surgery.” “The patient was terminal,” Neva replied, a dry wit in her voice. “I only expedited the inevitable.” Kasen chuckled. “I look forward to our next dance, surgeon. Perhaps under different circumstances.” He offered her a respectful, almost tender look before taking his leave. Later, in the bustling atrium of the Apex Surgical Institute, Neva was addressing a throng of doctors and medical journalists, her radiant smile firmly in place. “I’m thrilled to announce my formal return to the operating theater, effective next week. The Dassein Group is committed to pushing the boundaries of operative neural innovation, and I am eager to lead the charge personally.” A sharp voice cut through the polite applause. “Are you truly, Dr. Dassein?” Dr. Tamsin Cress, a formidable surgeon with an impressive, albeit cutthroat, reputation, strode forward, a data tablet clutched in her hand. Her eyes, cool and challenging, met Neva’s. “My apologies for the interruption, but some of us have concerns regarding your sudden reappearance in the OR.” Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Tamsin tapped the tablet, and a display screen flared to life behind her, showing what appeared to be Neva’s surgical logs. “These records, from your alleged sabbatical, show a remarkable… inactivity. No complex procedures, no publications, no contributions to our latest research. A complete absence from clinical practice for years. Forgive my skepticism, but how can a surgeon who has been so conspicuously absent suddenly be prepared to lead the ‘charge’?” The doctored logs were a clear attempt to undermine her. Neva’s smile never wavered, but her eyes hardened. She opened her mouth to respond, a precise, devastating rebuttal already forming, when a warm hand settled on her shoulder. “Dr. Cress, that is quite enough.” Dr. Phelan Gault, Neva’s revered mentor, stepped forward, his expression one of fatherly concern mixed with stern disapproval. He offered Neva a reassuring smile. “Neva has been preparing for this return with diligence and dedication. Her talents are unparalleled.” He pulled her into a comforting, paternal hug, a gesture that seemed to soothe the agitated crowd. As his arms enveloped her, his hand discreetly brushed against her coat pocket. A small, cold object slid within, metallic and unfamiliar. Then, Phelan pulled back, his smile unwavering. “Welcome home, my dear.” The moment he released her, a piercing, high-pitched wail erupted from the speakers embedded in the atrium’s ceiling. A stark, crimson light began flashing. An automated voice, calm and unyielding, boomed through the building: “BIO-HAZARD PROTOCOL INITIATED. UNIDENTIFIED CLASS FOUR ANOMALY DETECTED. ALL SECTORS ON IMMEDIATE LOCKDOWN.”

Tremors in the Boardroom