Everyone watched Victoria raise her hand against a helpless elderly woman, but only one waitress dared to stop her—and seconds later, Chicago’s most powerful billionaire walked straight toward them.

Above ground, Chicago was unraveling at the seams.

As Emma and Vincent pushed through the forgotten catacombs, Victoria Sterling had emerged from the underground garage of City Hall in an armored black Suburban, flanked by three convoy vehicles loaded with private military contractors.

Her phone was pressed to her ear, her manicured voice trembling with venomous desperation.

"I don't care about collateral damage!" Victoria screamed over the roar of the vehicle's twin-turbo engine as they tore down LaSalle Street, running red lights through the frozen slush. "Activate the river locks! Drop the drawbridges! Cut power to the Loop and seal off the Magnificent Mile. If Vincent reaches the Water Tower, the master ledger will unlock Arthur’s original deposits, and every asset the Sterling trust owns will be liquidated within thirty seconds!"

On the other end of the line, a hollow, synthesized voice responded from a secure line routed through Geneva. "Miss Sterling, the Board is losing confidence. The sudden surge from the Ward protocol indicates you have lost tactical control of the city's terminal."

"I have not lost control!" she snarled, slamming her uninjured fist onto the leather armrest. "I have two hundred men surrounding the historic district. The moment Vincent surfaces, he will be executed under executive order. Tell the Governor to declare martial law immediately!"

"The Governor is no longer taking your calls," the voice stated coldly. "The digital broadcast from the tribunal chamber reached the Federal Reserve three minutes ago. You have thirty-eight minutes to secure the core, Victoria. If you fail, the syndicate will sanitize the board. That includes you."

The line went dead.

Victoria threw the encrypted phone through the partition glass, shattering it into crystalline fragments. "Drive faster!" she roared at her private chauffeur. "Take the river bridge before the locks engage!"

Outside the tinted windows, the skyline of Chicago flickered violently. Streetlights went dark in rolling waves across the Loop. Massive digital billboards overlooking Michigan Avenue sputtered into static, flashing brief, fragmented images of Eleanor Ward’s original hand-drawn schematics from 1974.