All Cooperation Canceled

Valeria gripped Tiberius’s tense arm, her eyes wide as she stared at the shattered remnants of his phone scattered across the mahogany floor. "Tiberius, stop! How could you even think that?" she pleaded, trying franticly to soothe his rising panic. "The timing is just a bizarre coincidence. Bianca is our flesh and blood. Our real daughter. She just walked through the door. The Atlantis Group's decisions have nothing to do with a teenage girl."

Tiberius pressed his palms against his temples, the veins in his neck bulging under the strain. The silence in the grand study felt suffocating. He exhaled a harsh, jagged breath, attempting to mask the sheer dread gnawing at his gut. "Fine," he muttered, dropping his hands. "It's late. You handle Bianca's transition. Settle her in. I need rest. Tomorrow morning, I am going straight to the Atlantis Group headquarters. I'll demand an explanation face to face."

Miles away from the stifling luxury of the Vance estate, the Montell household buzzed with a different kind of energy. The small, worn living room felt warm as they sat around the faded sofa, discussing the heavy topic of Serena’s identity.

Bianca had abandoned the Montell surname the second she crossed the threshold of her new life. The Montells worried Serena might hesitate to let go of a name synonymous with unimaginable wealth and high society. Instead, Serena didn't blink. She shed her old life like a too-tight coat. "I'm Serena Montell now," she stated softly but firmly, leaving no room for argument. They debated keeping Vance as a middle name, a bridge to her past, but she shook her head. She never cared for hollow prestige.

The next morning, the smell of sizzling bacon and toasted waffles drifted up the narrow stairs. Lenora stood by the scratched stove, humming a cheerful tune as she plated scrambled eggs. "Breakfast!" she called out.

Serena sat at the cramped wooden table, a glass of milk in her hands. The meal was simple, devoid of the silver cloches and imported truffles she grew up with, but it felt incredibly grounding.

Brant, her broad-shouldered older brother, grabbed a yellow hard hat off the kitchen counter and shoved half a waffle into his mouth. Wiping crumbs from his chin, he flashed a wide, boyish grin. "Serena," he mumbled through a mouthful of food, "I’m heading out to the construction site. Soon as I get my paycheck this month, I'm taking you out for a massive feast. Just you wait!"

He clapped a heavy hand down on her shoulder in a playful pat. The sheer force of it jolted Serena forward. Milk sloshed over the rim of her glass and hit the table.

She coughed, pounding her chest as she choked on the sip. "Th-thank you, Brant. Cough, cough."

"Brant! Watch it!" Quinn barked, slamming her coffee mug down. She rushed over, rubbing Serena’s back with a gentle hand. She glared daggers at her brother. "Take it easy on her. Serena's delicate. She can't handle those massive bear paws of yours."

Everyone knew Brant didn't know his own strength. His days hauling steel and concrete gave him a heavy touch.

Brant scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing red. "My bad. I’ll be careful. Promise! Anyway, I’m off!" He swaggered toward the front door, loudly humming a trending TikTok song, his steel-toed boots thumping against the floorboards.

Tobias leaned against the fridge, stirring his instant coffee. "Hey, Serena, someone mentioned you study at the University of Kingsport?"

Serena nodded, wiping the spilled milk with a napkin. "Yeah. I'm a junior."

Tobias’s eyes lit up, the fatigue of his overnight shift vanishing. "Are you serious? That's amazing." He looked around the table, a bittersweet smile touching his lips. "None of us ever set foot on a college campus. Brant's got rocks for brains, and I... well, I had the grades, but I dropped out when Dad got sick."

Quinn sighed, leaning against the counter. "I only managed a vocational school. We spent years just hoping Felix would be the first to break the curse and get a real degree."

"But now look at us," Lenora chimed in, carrying a stack of plates to the sink. Her eyes shined with profound pride as she gazed at Serena. "We finally have a college student in the house. A real university girl." She dried her hands on her apron and stepped closer, her voice thick with emotion. "I am so proud of you. And don't stress about the cost. Brant and Quinn are pulling in steady money now. The financial hole isn't as deep as it used to be. I promise you, I'll scrape together your tuition for next semester."

Serena froze, her fingers tightening around her glass. She hadn't grasped the sheer weight of their sacrifices until this exact second. They gave up their futures, their education, just to keep a roof over their heads and pay for Desmond's medical care. And now, they wanted to pay for her.

"Thank you, Mom," Serena whispered. Her chest tightened, an ache spreading through her ribs.

Quinn wiped her mouth and tossed her napkin into the trash. "Just focus on those books, Serena. With a real degree, you won’t have to struggle like us. My vocational certificate is useless for the good corporate jobs. They won't even look at my resume. So, I deliver pizza." She pulled on her bright red delivery jacket and grabbed her scooter keys. "Gotta hit the road. Rush hour waits for no one."

Tobias stood up, stretching his back. "I'm stuffed. I'll walk out with you, Quinn."

Despite the grueling labor awaiting them, they left the house smiling. Their steps were light. Hope, a rare commodity in this house, had finally returned.

Lenora began clearing the dishes, stacking them with practiced speed. "Do you have classes today, sweetie? The bus stop is right at the corner. It'll take you straight to campus."

Serena shook her head. "I don't have lectures until this afternoon. I want to spend the morning upstairs with Dad."

Leaving the kitchen, Serena climbed the narrow stairs. The ground floor housed the family's random storage and pet supplies, leaving the cramped upper floor for the bedrooms. She pushed open the door to Desmond's room. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of cheap pain relief ointment.

"Serena?" Desmond rasped from the bed, his eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing up here?"

"Dad, did you eat yet?" she asked, pulling a wooden chair up to his bedside.

"Your mom brought up a plate earlier," he replied, shifting uncomfortably against the pillows.

"Good. I want to check your legs," Serena said. She didn't hesitate. She reached out and pulled back the heavy wool blanket.

Desmond tensed, bracing for the inevitable look of revulsion. Bianca used to march in, shove a tray on his lap, and storm out without making eye contact. Bianca never bothered to hide her blatant disgust at his withered limbs and the scent of sickness.

But Serena didn't flinch. Her expression remained neutral, focused, and calm. She rolled up her sleeves and pressed her thumbs into his calves, feeling the rigid, atrophied muscles.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small leather roll. Unfurling it, she revealed a set of gleaming silver acupuncture needles. Desmond's leg nerves weren't dead. The paralysis stemmed from severe circulatory blockages. Years of lying dormant in this bed had caused the muscles to stiffen and waste away.

With precise, practiced motions, she tapped the first needle into a specific pressure point on his knee.

The bedroom door creaked open. Lenora froze in the doorway, a basket of laundry dropping from her hands. "Serena? What on earth are you doing to your father?"

She had no idea Serena possessed any knowledge of traditional medicine, let alone such an intricate, specialized technique.

Serena didn't look up, keeping her focus on the needles. "I'm treating him. I'll do this acupuncture routine every single day. I'll mix up the right herbal medicines and run him through physical therapy. If we stick to it, Dad will stand on his own two feet in less than a year."

Desmond gasped, his hands trembling on the bedsheets. Lenora clamped a hand over her mouth, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.

"If he can just get better... I'd do anything. Anything in the world," Lenora choked out, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve.

"Don't cry," Serena said softly, tapping another needle into his shin. "I’m here now. I'll take care of this family."

Lenora and Desmond exchanged a look of pure wonder. They didn't fully comprehend the depth of Serena's medical skills. Part of them assumed she was just offering false hope to lift their spirits. But it didn't matter. She treated him with dignity. She touched his broken body with gentle, loving hands. Lenora watched her new daughter with a heart ready to burst. Bianca had always treated them like a burden, shouting about the smell, refusing to step foot in Desmond’s room. Serena was a revelation.

While the Montell house bathed in newfound warmth, the Vance Group headquarters descended into utter chaos.

The news of the Atlantis Group severing ties hit the financial sector like a shockwave. It triggered a massive domino effect. Phones rang off the hook across the trading floor. Smaller investors, terrified by the sudden exit of the corporate giant, scrambled to pull their funding in panic. Deals were canceled mid-signature. In a matter of hours, the Vance Group hemorrhaged millions.

Tiberius sat in his corner office, dialing the Atlantis Group’s executive line again and again. Each time, the call dropped. Pushed to the brink, he grabbed his coat and ordered his driver to take him straight to the towering glass-and-steel Atlantis headquarters downtown. He stormed through the revolving doors, ready to demand answers.

He didn't make it past the lobby.

A wall of broad-shouldered security guards moved in unison, physically blocking his path to the elevators. They had been briefed. They were expecting him.

"Move!" Tiberius roared, his face flushed purple. He pointed a trembling finger at the lead guard. "Are you stupid or blind? I am Tiberius Vance! I am a distinguished partner of this firm!"

The lead guard, a massive man with a thick neck, crossed his arms and let out a blunt sneer. "Distinguished my ass. Get lost, old man."

The order came straight from the top floor: Humiliate Tiberius Vance on sight. Unleash every insult in the book.

"You... this is outrageous!" Tiberius shrieked, planting his hands on his hips. Spit flew from his lips. "Call Wyatt Langdon down here right now! Tell him I demand an audience!"

Tiberius's mind raced back to just weeks ago. Wyatt Langdon, the formidable head of the Atlantis Group, used to treat Tiberius with utmost respect. Whenever a Vance project tanked, Wyatt swept in with a checkbook and a smile, cleaning up the mess. Wyatt practically worshiped him. Tiberius had grown so used to the groveling that he viewed Wyatt as nothing more than a loyal lapdog.

"Mr. Langdon isn't someone you can just snap your fingers and see," the guard mocked, stepping into Tiberius's personal space. "Who do you think you are? Turn around and walk out, or I’ll use the taser."

Tiberius scoffed, attempting to shoulder his way past the men. "You wouldn't dare—"

*Crack.*

The guard drew a black taser from his belt, thumbing the switch. Blue electricity arched across the prongs, crackling loudly in the echoing lobby. He aimed it directly at Tiberius's chest.

Tiberius froze, his eyes locked on the sparking weapon. His bravado crumbled in an instant. Publicly humiliated, with lobby staff and passing executives staring at him, he slowly backed away.

His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. "Fine," he spat, grinding his teeth. "Very well. I’ll remember your faces. The second I get Wyatt on the phone, I’ll make sure every single one of you gets fired."

He turned on his heel and marched out into the cold air, his empire crumbling behind him.