Page 35 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
I pull up contracts.
Offshore subsidiaries.
Shady payments that bounce between dummy shells before disappearing.
And what I find?
It confirms everything.
Tidball’s been bleeding her company dry for years—slowly enough not to be noticed, fast enough to leave her vulnerable. He’s orchestrated delays in shipments, rerouted funds, rerouted loyalties.
He’s not just undermining her.
He’s setting her up.
To fail.
To fall.
And she has no idea.
I stare at the blinking dossier, my fists clenched tight enough to crack bone.
This isn’t just about control.
It’s about timing.
He wants her so beaten, so cornered, that when he finally makes his move, she’ll thank him for the knife.
But he didn’t count on me.
I close the feed.
I lean back.
And I start thinking about how much of his world I’ll need to burn before she sees what he really is.
Now I have to convince Yara, though.
She doesn’t want to hear it.
I can see it before I speak—etched into the lines around her mouth, the tight hold she has on her coffee cup, the way her shoulders square before I even open mine.
We're on her balcony, high above the noise, glass walls glinting with the last light of day. The city glows like something alive below, a beast breathing neon and ambition. I can feel the static buzz of the security grid around us, taste ozone on the wind.
Yara leans against the railing, looking out over the skyline, but I know she’s not seeing it. She’s somewhere else. Drowning in spreadsheets. In decisions. In weight too heavy for one human body to bear.
She doesn’t turn around when I say it.
“I don’t trust Tidball.”
Silence.
Her grip tightens on the mug. A breath escapes her, sharp and careful.
“I know you two will not really get along,” she says lightly, but it’s forced. She’s performing. “You come from… very different backgrounds.”
“I come from war,” I reply. “He comes from treachery. Those are not the same thing.”
