NOVPUBAfter the incident, Darren told Harper to get dressed. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to get off before he began for the day.
It wouldn't necessarily affect anything, but Darren wished that he'd at least been able to release. Somehow, since he'd started this with Harper, it had always given him a clearer mind for the rest of the day.
He buckled his belt, adjusted himself and entered the meeting room, where before he even had the chance to speak, the bomb of Archibald Mooney's was dropped.
For a moment, the meeting room was suspended in silence. The only sound was the hum of the polarized glass walls and the distant tap of keys from the information unit downstairs. But in this room, in this hour, a single name had turned every breath sharp.
Archibald Mooney.
Rachel's voice had only just faded when Darren's eyes narrowed slightly— only slightly.
His arms remained by his side, his posture unmoved. But inside, the calculation had already begun.
This city has enjoyed five months without the intervention of Moon Enterprises, especially after MWMO left plenty of companies in shambles. And now, the captain of this boat of insanity and greed was coming back.
For every CEO and major business persona, this was big news. Archibald's return wasn't just an event— as big as that was —it was a shift in the state's business tectonics.
Mr. Mooney's presence alone did things for Calivernia's businesses. It caused people to work harder, to thrive to reach his level, to try to meet him for inspiration, or to even work for or with him.
He was a force. One that no one had expected to see rise so soon.
His businesses in Russia must have been finished then, or maybe suspended. Either way, every CEO had to keep their eyes open. Many in the same business as him, feared for their product and stock sales.
But Darren did not speak of fear. He did not even ask Rachel why Archibald was returning.
He only focused on what was next for Steele Investments.
Expand. Protect.
That was all he was focused on.
With that in mind, Darren inhaled, cold and deliberate.
"Sandy," he said, his voice cutting clean through the tension, "do you remember what we talked about before?"
"Do you mean the increased funding, sir?"
"Yes. This should be done quickly. Allocate performance-based liquidity to every internal division. I want output margins increased by at least fifteen percent by next week. That includes staffing, incentives, and overtime burn."
Sandy, already half-scribbling in her notepad, looked up and nodded. "What bracket do you want cap limits set at?"
"That will be up to you," Darren replied.
"Oh."
"But it's essential that we scale. Any team that surpasses 20% will receive direct bonus allocation from the High Yield Reserve Pool."
Everyone appeared excited by that.
Darren turned to his head of the IT Department
"Kara. The mining rigs. The operation has been going smoothly and I have you to thank for that, but I also want to increase output immediately. What I'm saying here is a full performance audit by tomorrow. Replace any underperforming GPU stacks. Accelerate secondary coolant installation and prepare the Vault Index reports by week's end."
Kara leaned forward, one boot still propped against the table leg. "But boss, we're already running at 91% rig efficiency across the main grid. You want me to risk burnout?"
"Everything is a risk, Kara. What I want you to do is cross 32,000 BTC. That leverage will give us dominance when regulation talks begin, and that is going to happen soon. Use any and all resources."
She whistled softly. "Copy that. I'll reassign backup GPUs and re-engage the offshore coolant trials."
"Do it."
Next, he focused on his secretary of investments.
"Amelia."
She looked up.
"You're accelerating the warehouse project. No more grace periods, no more phased approach. I want full structural completion within six weeks. Hire local contractors if needed. I want drone security systems deployed and one internal loading bay finished before the month ends."
Amelia's eyes flicked with restrained tension. "Though six weeks is… aggressive, I can do it, sir. You can count on me. I'll reroute the contract path through Sagomoto Wealth and push for double shifts."
"Good. And double their pay for night crews. I want it operational at night before it's legal by day."
She paused, studying him, then nodded. "Understood."
"Rachel," Darren said next, not even looking at her.
She jerked slightly in her seat, startled out of her thoughts.
He finally met her gaze. "Trendteller's domestic market has reached capacity. I want you targeting international soft zones. South America, Southeast Asia, Oceania. B2B integration models, lite license variants, and modular ad packages."
Rachel was still watching him— his precision, his tone. His body language hadn't changed since this morning. But all she could see was the memory of his office, of Harper Bell, pressed against the man now standing before them like nothing had ever happened.
She blinked hard, pushing the thought aside.
"Yes, sir. I'll run Trendteller VISTA-5 through language mod engines and prepare beta tests for regional marketplaces. Do you want full distribution or staggered licensing?"
"Staggered's better. We scale by demand. Not expectation."
"Understood," she said quietly.
"And Simon."
The older man adjusted his glasses, fingers twitching slightly from excitement. "What do you have for me, Mr. Steele?"
"I want a digital sales channel structured under a clean-brand proxy. Focus on low-friction productized assets. Trendteller and Delvarate support add-ons, visual AI reports, auto-generated analytics. Structure it under an alias brand for trial. And…"
Darren's eyes narrowed.
"Begin foundational design for Steele Tech."
Simon blinked. "You're activating it?"
"Just the scaffolding. It needs to look like nothing more than a prototype think-tank. We'll scale it when public sentiment demands a hero."
Simon grinned faintly. "I'll pull in our best UI contractors and draft a parallel pipeline for digital commerce modules. You'll have a shell concept within three weeks."
Darren thought about it for a while, and decided not to overwork the man. "Three weeks is fine."
Simon nodded, jotting down notes like a student under examination.
The room remained still.
Darren's gaze swept across them one last time. "You each have twenty-four hours to submit Phase-1 updates. I don't want optimism. I want results. And if you can't deliver results, I'll find someone who can."
No one said a word. No one challenged it.
He stepped back from the table. "Dismissed."
Chairs scraped, cautiously. Papers were gathered. Laptops closed. One by one, they filtered out —Amelia with her jaw tight, Kara thoughtful, Simon still muttering numbers to himself.
Rachel was last. She lingered at the door for a second longer than she needed to. Her hand brushed the doorknob.
She glanced back.
Darren hadn't moved. He was staring at the wall display, his jaw set. Cold. Indifferent. The man she'd once admired felt like a shadow of that same body now— same face, same clothes. But something inside him was different now. Distant.
Rachel left the room.
The door closed with a whisper.
Darren stood alone, the room darkening slightly as the tint adjusted with the rising sun. His mind, despite all the commands he had just given, was a storm beneath still waters.
Then his phone buzzed.
It was an incoming call from Penelope Castle. Darren stared at it for a moment, not moving or reacting.
He just stood there, the name glowing softly, pulsing like a distant memory.
Finally, he picked it up.
