Revenge, Amara learned, didn’t announce itself.

It didn’t arrive with raised voices or dramatic gestures. It didn’t need witnesses. It worked best in silence, in rooms where decisions were made with a nod instead of a vote.

The morning she decided to begin, there was no ceremony.

Just coffee, gone cold.

And a list.

Amara sat at her desk before sunrise, the city still half-asleep, the skyline wrapped in fog like a secret. Her laptop screen glowed softly, displaying rows of names, foundations, shell nonprofits, advisory boards, consulting firms — all of them loosely connected, none of them obvious on their own.

Together, they formed Lana’s ecosystem.

Not illegal.

Not...