Chapter 222: The Hand Behind Moves

Chapter 222: Chapter 222: The Hand Behind Moves

Three hundred miles north of the capital, the cool midnight breeze rustled through the pine trees surrounding the high-altitude military command villa.

Derrick Roys sat on the second-floor stone balcony, swirling a glass of neat bourbon. A single tablet rested on the small glass table beside him, its screen casting a soft blue glow against his sharp, composed features.

He scrolled through the lingering digital chatter on his personal feed, watching the frantic headlines that had flooded the public domain hours earlier. A faint, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

’Alex, Alex, Alex...’ Derrick thought, taking a slow sip. ’Your past certainly has a habit of clawing its way back to the surface. And it’s always the same person.’

Through his personal intelligence network, Derrick was already fully aware of every detail that had unfolded at the Grand Pavilion—the objection, the public file drop, the dramatic appearance of police restraints, and the desperate scramble in the precinct sally port.

In the high-stakes political arena of Veyra, an ordinary CEO or even a cabinet minister hit with a public scandal of that magnitude would have instantly thrown Alex to the wolves to preserve institutional credibility. But Alex had landed on the right side of power. Here in Veyra, outside of Derrick’s own father, the Marshal, everyone—including the highest offices in the civil administration—walked on eggshells around the Roys name.

Derrick tapped the screen, opening LOOP, the capital’s premier verified social network. He selected a photo taken during their private meeting at the estate earlier that week and drafted a brief, single-line caption:

"Congratulations to my little brother @Alex_Livingston for finally tying the knot. Wishing you both a lifetime of success."

He hit publish. Even at two in the morning, the simple post was a calculated signal. It didn’t mention the leaks, the police, or the media storm. It didn’t have to. The mere public association from a Roys was an unwritten executive order.

---

By Sunday morning, the capital’s media landscape had undergone a complete, chilling transformation.

The morning news broadcast inside a busy downtown café flickered to life, the audio cutting through the morning rush of espresso machines and clinking porcelain.

"...and moving to top stories in high society this morning, the city celebrates an unprecedented union of industry leaders," the anchor announced, smiling smoothly as high-definition footage of the Grand Pavilion filled the screen. "The long-awaited wedding between Alex Livingston and Anna Brodick concluded in spectacular fashion last night. Financial analysts are already predicting a major surge for the Livingston Group as this marriage seals an exclusive logistics partnership with Brodick Industrial Holdings..."

Every major television network, morning broadcast, and print syndicate followed suit, leading with glowing, uninterrupted coverage of the Livingston-Brodick union. Journalists spoke in reverent tones about the historic merging of freight logistics and industrial capital, praising the elegance of the evening, the high-profile guest list, and the bright economic future of the alliance.

On independent media platforms and public forums, a completely different battle was playing out in real time.

Under the live stream clips of the wedding coverage, comment sections were burning up with confused, frantic users:

@Veyra_Observer: Wait, hold on... what happened to the leaked hospital logs from last night?! Why is no one talking about the fraud files?!

@Capital_Insider_99: I literally saved the PDF checksums at midnight and now the link says 404 Error! Did everyone just forget Alex was accused of forged medical coercion twelve hours ago?!

@Truth_Seeker_22: Did anyone else see the precinct report before it got deleted?! He was taken out in cuffs! Why is the news acting like it was a peaceful fairy tale wedding?!

@The_Trader: I heard there was an objection at the wedding, why isn’t anyone saying anything about it?

Then, right as user interest spiked, the refresh circles spun. Within seconds, those comment threads were systematically wiped clean. Error messages replaced the text, and within minutes, the entire topic was scrubbed from trending algorithms.

The frantic, sensationalized online leaks from the previous night had vanished completely, erased from search indices and platform servers as if they had never existed.

---

In the sunlit dining suite of The Zenith, the atmosphere was entirely detached from the political machinery of the city.

Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a spread of freshly baked pastries, poached eggs, and freshly squeezed juice. Aliya sat at the head of the table, wearing a simple cream knit sweater, her expression peaceful and relaxed. Beside her, Jake casually sliced through a stack of pancakes, while Catharine leaned back in her chair, happily buttering a piece of toast.

"You actually slept eleven hours straight," Catharine said, smiling warmly at Aliya as she set her butter knife down. "I don’t think I’ve seen you rest like that since our first year at university."

Aliya let out a soft, genuine laugh, taking a sip of her tea. "I think my brain finally realized it didn’t have to stay awake waiting for the next hit. It feels... light."

"It should," Jake added smoothly, setting his fork down. "The air is always clearer when you leave trash where it belongs."

Aliya looked between Jake and Catharine, feeling a quiet, steady warmth inside. "Thank you. Both of you. For everything."

"Don’t start getting all emotional over breakfast," Catharine teased, though her eyes were soft. "Eat before it gets cold."

"Hey, I’m allowed to be happy," Aliya said, a playful spark returning to her eyes. She glanced over at Jake with a mischievous grin. "Besides, seeing Jake all formal last night reminded me of when we were kids. Cath, did I ever tell you about the time he tried to sneak out to the neighborhood arcade and got his head stuck between the gate bars?"

Jake paused mid-sip, his eyes widening slightly. "Aliya, don’t."

"He was stuck there for two hours!" Aliya continued, laughing freely now as she pointed at him. "He tried to convince the neighbors he was just standing there on purpose to guard the driveway!"

"It was a tactical defensive position," Jake deadpanned, setting his mug down as Catharine burst into loud laughter.

"Tactical?!" Aliya stood up, dodging as Jake reached over to steal her croissant. "You cried when the firemen showed you up with the lubricant!"

"That’s a complete exaggeration," Jake said, standing up and chasing her around the edge of the dining table. Aliya ducked around the sofa, laughing so hard she had to hold her side, full of a bright, unrestricted energy she hadn’t felt in years.

"Alright, alright! Peace!" Catharine called out, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye as she slapped the table. "Sit down, both of you! You’re going to knock over the orange juice!"

Jake shook his head, a subtle, fond smile on his face as Aliya walked back to her seat, breathless and smiling.

After breakfast, Aliya stepped into the living area to answer a video call from her university roommate. Catharine pulled out her phone, opening her social media apps to check the morning news trends, expecting to see the city in absolute uproar over the leaked files.

She scrolled. Nothing.

She refreshed her feed, cleared her cache, and searched again. The trending tags were gone.

Confused, she walked over to where Jake was standing near the window, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee.

"Jake, give me your phone for a second," Catharine said, frowning as she held out her hand. "My network connection must be glitching."

Jake unlocked his phone and handed it over without argument. Catharine quickly opened the main search engines and social platforms, typing in Alex’s name, the hospital file numbers, and the keywords from last night’s drop.

Nothing came up except glowing photo spreads of Alex and Anna on the banquet stage, flanked by high-society guests. There was no mention of the evidence, no record of the police cruiser, and no trace of the digital drop. According to the press, the wedding had proceeded seamlessly without a single hitch.

"This doesn’t make any sense," Catharine muttered, handing the phone back to Jake, her eyebrows pulled tight. "I searched everything. The files you dropped last night... they’re completely gone. All the news outlets are just praising the wedding. It’s like last night never even happened."

Jake took a slow sip of his coffee, looking out over the city skyline with a calm, unbothered expression.

’Classic power move,’ Jake thought to himself. ’Complete digital erasure before the morning news cycle even hits the streets.’

"I told you last night, Cath," Jake said aloud, his voice steady. "The Roys family doesn’t just influence the news—they dictate reality for the media networks. It’s the reason eighty percent of the general public doesn’t even know the Roys family exists by name. They operate in the shadows, and they clean up whatever messes touch their perimeter."

"That isn’t fair!" Catharine said, her voice rising in frustration. "He forged medical records, he tried to trap Aliya, he brought the police to his own venue—and he just gets to sweep it under the rug because some powerful family backed him?!"

Aliya walked back into the room, hanging up her phone just in time to hear Catharine’s frustrated burst. She looked at the phone in Jake’s hand, then at Catharine’s face, immediately piecing together what they were looking at.

"Cath," Aliya said softly, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder. "Let it go."

Catharine looked at her, stunned. "Aliya, doesn’t it make you angry? After everything he did?"

Aliya paused, looking out at the morning sun reflecting off the glass towers.

’A few months ago, this would have destroyed me,’ Aliya thought, feeling the quiet certainty settled in her chest. ’I would have spent weeks wondering why the truth didn’t matter to them.’

She turned back to Catharine, offering a quiet, completely sincere smile. "No. Last night, I stood in front of everyone who ever tried to diminish me, and I walked away on my own terms. I got the closure I needed. What the media reports, or what Alex does with his life now... it doesn’t hold any weight over me anymore. It really isn’t worth your energy."

Catharine let out a long sigh, her shoulders relaxing as she saw the real, unshakable peace in Aliya’s eyes. She crossed her arms, looking back at the polished wedding photos on Jake’s phone screen.

"I still don’t get Anna," Catharine muttered, shaking her head. "How could she stand on that stage and go through with marrying someone like that after seeing those files?"

Jake let out a low, dry chuckle, setting his coffee cup down on the glass counter.

"Anna didn’t marry a man, Catharine," Jake said calmly, his eyes reflecting the sharp sunlight. "She married power and status. And in high society, as long as the shield holds, people like her will smile through whatever lies they have to."

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