Chapter 10 - Protocol Zero (Epilogue)
Three years later.
The high-security federal correctional facility in Lompoc, California, sat under the scorching afternoon sun.
In the dusty, fenced-in recreation yard, inmates in identical beige-grey uniforms walked in slow, weary circles.
Among them was Mark Vance.
His hands were rough and calloused from work detail in the prison laundry room. His hair was streaked with grey, his face lined with deep, permanent wrinkles of stress and bitterness. He spent his days hauling heavy canvas bags of wet linen and his nights lying on a narrow bunk, staring at the concrete ceiling.
A guard shouted near the fence line. "Vance! Mail detail!"
Mark moved slowly to the wire mesh table, where a guard tossed a small, rolled-up newspaper onto the metal counter. Inmates were allowed local newspapers brought in through charitable donations.
Mark picked up the copy of TechGlobal Magazine.
On the front cover, glowing under the studio lights of a London photoshoot, was Mina Sterling.
She was dressed in a sleek midnight-blue suit, sitting at a glass desk overlooking the Thames, holding the global award for "International CEO of the Year." Beneath her picture was the headline:
"THE STERLING STANDARD: HOW MINA STERLING BUILT A $50 BILLION TECH EMPIRE ON INTEGRITY AND REVOLUTIONARY INNOVATION."
Mark stared at her face for a long time.
He traced his calloused, dirty thumb over the glossy paper, touching the image of the woman he had once ordered out into the rain. The woman who had cooked his meals, ironed his shirts, and sat quietly beside him while he bragged to cheap investors.
He remembered her soft voice. He remembered the simple beige dress. And he remembered the absolute, ice-cold finality of her last words in the St. Regis ballroom:
"Remember this moment. You'll regret choosing her over me."
A tear slipped down Mark's sun-baked cheek, dropping onto the glossy cover, blurring the picture of the empire he could have shared, if only he had been man enough to see the diamond in front of him.
"Vance! Back to the laundry line!" the guard barked from the doorway.
Mark slowly folded the magazine, tucked it under his arm, and walked back into the dark, cold corridor of the prison, the heavy steel gate slamming shut behind him with a final, echoing thud.
Outside, thirty thousand feet above the California desert, a sleek, matte-black Gulfstream jet sliced through the clear blue sky.
Inside the luxurious cabin, Mina Sterling sat by the large leather window, reviewing a new grant proposal on her tablet. Sunlight poured through the glass, illuminating her serene, powerful face.
Arthur sat across from her, closing his laptop. "London setup is complete. Father is meeting us at the tarmac. The international summit starts at eight tomorrow morning."
"Perfect," Mina said smoothly, looking out the window at the endless horizon of clouds stretching before her.
"Any regrets, Little Sister?" Arthur asked softly, looking at her with quiet affection.
Mina smiled, setting her tablet down, and took a sip of clear, refreshing water from a crystal glass.
May you like
"None," Mina replied, her voice peaceful, steady, and entirely free of ghosts. "Protocol Zero is complete."
She turned her gaze back to the sky, moving forward into a future that was entirely, undeniably her own.
