From Blood Bank To Billionaire's Obsession

Alanis typed the final execution command into the cracked screen.

Using the dormant backdoor script she had meticulously planted in the hotel's network back in Suite 704, she sent a simple, localized activation signal. The pre-compiled code instantly bypassed the hotel's firewall and bridged a connection to the external commercial grid, hijacking the massive digital billboard hanging over the corner of Fifth Avenue.

The giant LED screen, which had been playing a high-end perfume commercial, suddenly flickered and went black.

The street fell into a confused, two-second silence. Everyone looked up.

Then, a crystal-clear, black-and-white security video flared onto the massive screen.

It was the feed from a hidden camera in the hallway outside Suite 704.

Bridgette looked up. All the blood drained from her face. She looked like a corpse.

On the giant screen, Bridgette-wearing her stunning engagement gown-was seen shoving a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills into the hands of a hotel waiter.

The waiter bowed and handed her a spare magnetic keycard.

A collective gasp of horror erupted from the crowd on the street.

Richard panicked. He spun around, screaming at the two beat cops standing nearby. "Turn it off! Cut the power! Do something!"

The cops just stared at him. It was a wireless cyber hijack. There was no plug to pull.

Alanis stared at Bridgette's terrified face and coldly pressed the audio sync button on her phone.

The billboard's massive speakers crackled to life. The audio had been scrubbed and enhanced by Alanis's software.

Bridgette's arrogant, venomous voice echoed across the New York night sky.

"Put the powder in her water. Make sure she drinks it. And make sure Ashley walks into that room at exactly nine. I want that little Appalachian blood-bag ruined by tomorrow morning."

That sentence was the final nail in the coffin.

The street exploded. The paparazzi went absolutely feral, the flashes of their cameras strobing like a violent lightning storm over Bridgette's head.

Ashley looked like he had been struck by a physical blow. He stared at the woman he thought was a pure, innocent angel. His stomach violently churned with the realization that he had been played for an absolute fool.

He violently ripped his leg out of Bridgette's grasp. The look he gave her was one of pure, unadulterated disgust.

Bridgette's legs gave out completely. She collapsed onto the dirty pavement, her perfect makeup ruined by real, hysterical tears of panic.

Eleanor tried to throw her body over Bridgette to block the cameras, but the ruthless reporters simply shoved her aside.

Alanis stood tall, looking down at the absolute destruction she had orchestrated.

She pressed the enter key one last time, wiping every single trace of her digital intrusion from the servers.

The billboard instantly snapped back to the perfume commercial, as if the nightmare had never happened.

But the damage was permanent. The Copeland family's pristine reputation was burned to the ground.

Alanis didn't waste another second looking at them. She turned on her heel and walked toward a yellow cab that had just pulled up to the curb.

She opened the door and slid into the backseat, slamming the door shut.

The thick glass cut off the screaming and the flashing lights.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, Alanis leaned her head back against the worn leather seat and closed her eyes, preparing for the war that would inevitably start tomorrow.