Chapter 1 — The Wolf in the Boardroom

Vivienne "Vivi" Laurent

The air in the Vanguard Innovations boardroom was taut with expectation, a silence thick enough to snap. Thirty floors above the city, the glass walls offered a panoramic view of the bustling metropolis below, its relentless energy a sharp contrast to the stillness inside. The faint murmur of distant car horns and sirens filtered through the glass, but no one dared glance away from Vivienne Laurent. She stood at the head of the long, polished table, her sharp gray eyes scanning the room like a hawk surveying prey. The tension was palpable, the kind of electric charge that Vivi thrived on.

“Sentience,” she began, her voice slicing through the air with the precision of a scalpel, “is not just another AI. It’s a revolution.”

Her tailored crimson suit—a bold choice in a sea of dark blues and blacks—seemed to heighten her presence, a deliberate move to underscore her dominance. She gestured toward the sleek, holographic display hovering above the table. A web of glowing lines and nodes shimmered to life, data points flowing like an intricate dance.

“Every competitor in this room,” she continued, her tone razor-sharp, “is still trying to teach machines to think. Sentience doesn’t just think—it understands. It learns, adapts, evolves. By the time anyone else catches up to where we are today, we’ll be light-years ahead.”

The investors exchanged guarded glances, their skepticism barely concealed behind carefully neutral expressions. Vivi caught every flicker of doubt, every subtle shift in posture. Her heightened senses, which had grown increasingly vivid over the past few weeks, felt like both a gift and a curse. The faint rustle of fabric, the creak of leather chairs, the shallow breaths of the man two seats down from her—all of it painted an invisible map of tension and unease. The metallic tang in the back of her throat sharpened, and the faint echo of her own pulse beat insistently in her ears. She ignored it, her grip tightening imperceptibly on the remote in her hand.

She pressed a button, and the hologram shifted to a sleek demo reel. Sentience in action: managing global supply chains with unprecedented efficiency, predicting market trends with chilling accuracy, even composing original music that evoked a visceral, emotional response. The room fell silent again, but this time, it was the reverent hush of awe.

“This,” Vivi said, her voice low and commanding, “is not just a product. It’s a paradigm shift. Sentience doesn’t just predict trends—it reshapes them. It doesn’t follow the market; it defines it. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the future. And Vanguard Innovations is the only company bold enough to make it a reality.”

The applause was immediate, though measured—polite, controlled, the kind of response expected from people who prided themselves on calculated coolness. Vivi didn’t need their enthusiasm; she needed their investment, their connections, their unshakable belief in her vision. And she would have it.

“Questions?” she asked, leaning forward slightly, her posture radiating intensity. The faint hum of the city below seemed to fade as every eye in the room focused on her.

A silver-haired man with a perpetual frown cleared his throat. “Ms. Laurent, the concept is impressive, but the AI market is saturated. What safeguards do you have in place to protect Sentience from external threats? Competitors, hackers, regulatory bodies—”

“Sentience,” Vivi interrupted smoothly, her smile cool and sharp, “is self-protecting. Its adaptive algorithms were designed to evolve faster than any conventional cybersecurity threat. Hackers would have better luck breaking into Fort Knox with a hairpin. As for competitors—” Her gaze locked on the man, and he visibly shrank under the weight of her stare. “There won’t be any.”

Another investor, a woman with an air of practiced neutrality, leaned forward. “And the regulatory landscape? AI this advanced is bound to raise red flags.”

“Of course,” Vivi said, her tone laced with just enough sarcasm to draw a few chuckles. “Innovation always scares people at first. But we’ve ensured Sentience complies with every existing guideline, and as new regulations are drafted, we’ll be at the table shaping them. Vanguard doesn’t just follow the rules; we write them.”

The tension in the room began to ease, replaced by the hum of approval. Vivi allowed herself a flicker of satisfaction, but it was fleeting. The metallic taste surged again, stronger now, and a strange heat prickled beneath her skin. She clenched her fists briefly, nails pressing into her palms, willing the sensations to subside. Whatever was happening—stress, overwork, some kind of illness—she would deal with it. She always did.

“Ms. Laurent,” Naomi West’s voice broke the moment, calm and efficient as always. The COO stood by the door, tablet in hand, her sharp brown eyes catching Vivi’s. “Your next appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Vivi inclined her head, a silent acknowledgment that the meeting was over. “Thank you for your time, everyone,” she said briskly, straightening to her full height. “I trust you’ll make the right decision.”

The investors began to file out, murmuring among themselves. Vivi stayed rooted in place, her expression unreadable as her gaze followed their movements. Only Naomi lingered, approaching with the steady confidence of someone who had earned the right to speak freely.

“You’ve got them eating out of your hand again,” Naomi said, her tone dry but tinged with warmth. “They’re hooked.”

Vivi allowed herself a small exhale, though her posture remained rigid. “Good. They need to be.”

Naomi hesitated, glancing around to ensure they were alone. Her grip on the tablet tightened slightly before she spoke. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” she said quietly. “I know you won’t listen, but… you should take a break. Just for a day.”

“I don’t have time for breaks,” Vivi snapped, the words sharper than she intended. She softened her tone, though not by much. “I’m fine, Naomi. Focus on the numbers.”

Naomi’s lips tightened, but she didn’t argue. “Understood,” she said, turning back toward the door. “I’ll have the projections on your desk in an hour.”

As the room emptied, Vivi sank into her chair, her polished exterior cracking just enough to let a sliver of exhaustion seep through. Her fingers brushed against the cool surface of the table, and for a moment, she closed her eyes.

The heat beneath her skin flared, and the metallic tang felt almost overpowering now. She opened her eyes to the city skyline, her reflection shimmering faintly in the glass. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw something strange in the mirror—a faint glimmer in her eyes, sharp and animalistic. She blinked, and it was gone.

Her grip tightened on the table’s edge. Whatever was happening to her, she would handle it. She always did. But as she stared out at the endless expanse of glittering buildings, she couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that something was slipping out of her control.

And for Vivienne Laurent, control was everything.