Page 62 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
And beneath all of it?
His fingerprint.
Not just figuratively.
Literally.
Money movements.
Favor exchanges.
Contracts routed through subsidiarieshehas silent control over.
It’s elegant in its simplicity.
A trap.
Set quietly.
And then sprung when the board needed a scapegoat.
And a public crisis.
And a reminder thatcontrolisn’t a birthright.
It’s performance.
A lie dressed up in luxury suits.
I step closer.
So close I can almost taste the cold scent of his cologne through the glass — citrus and silk and something that once smelled likementor.
“Tell me,” I say again. “Why would you engineer this — to frameme?”
He doesn’t blink.
Not truly.
Not for an instant.
His smile stays — smooth, refined, too perfect.
“It’s not aboutyou,Grau,” he says. “It’s about stability. The board needs reassurance. They need a focal point. A threat. We can’t have a Reaper wandering through sensitive research — not with unverified loyalties.”
Translation:
We can’t have someone loyal to her, not us.
Something inside me snaps.
Not like breaking.
Like steel bending under pressure.
I inhale.
Feeling every cool molecule of air tugging at my lungs.
