Leaving Heavenly Earthborn, Eddie and I head straight to the airport. No detours. No time to waste. Launching the world’s first stablecoin in two weeks isn’t just ambitious—it’s a logistical war.

  Technologically, we’re ready. Hightower’s confidential blockchain has already been built and stress-tested inside our Phoenix datacenter. It runs clean, fast, and silent. But deploying it in the Red Republic—live, in production? That’s a different beast.

  However, it’s not the tech that keeps me up at night. It’s the business scaffolding: the reserve structure, the exchange integration, the white papers, the patent filings. The media blitz. The political choreography. And most of all—Grandpa and Sera. My sister. My rival.

  When Lyra told me to launch within the first week of June, I didn’t grasp the urgency. But I’ve learned to trust her instincts. Strange, how easily I say that now. Just a week ago, she was the Night Witch—our enemy, our shadow. Now she’s the one threading me into the political fabric of the Ruby Republic.

  I've discussed the business plan with my grandpa over encrypted line. He thought the idea was, in his words, "dynamite." But if he catches even a whiff of Lyra’s involvement, he’ll vanish from it like smoke. That’s why I need Eddie Griffin—his full devotion, no ambiguity.

  Eddie’s no fool. He must have sensed Lyra’s fingerprints. Someone’s opening doors for me in places he’s spent decades trying to get in. And Lyra is on the top of his list of suspects.

  He’s known me since I was a child. But the Ruby Republic was always his domain. Now I’m stepping in—fast, hard, and high-profile. There’s friction. He won’t show it, but it’s there.

  And when Grandpa inevitably asks him about the deal—about me—what will he say?

  That’s the question I can’t afford to get wrong.

  Lyra recommended Ruby International Airlines for their reputation: luxury, elegance, and the kind of service that whispers rather than shouts. The first-class cabin is half empty, wrapped in soft light and muted luxury. The air carries notes of bergamot and leather, the kind that lingers on tailored suits and private deals.

  Each seat is a cocoon—sliding doors, silk-lined pillows, touchscreen panels that respond like water. Eddie helps stow my luggage, then settles into his pod with the ease of someone who’s flown this route too many times. I take the one across the aisle, angled just enough to watch him without seeming to.

  The stewardess approaches—flawless skin, a face sculpted for diplomacy. She offers me a hot towel and a gold-gilded menu, then leans in, her voice barely audible.

  “Lyra says hi,” she whispers, breath warm against my ear. “And whatever you need.”

  She moves on to Eddie, kneeling one leg with practiced grace. As she places the napkin on his lap, she lets out a soft “whoops,” followed by a chuckle that lands somewhere between apology and invitation.

  Eddie smiles, amused. “No worries. I’m a big man,” he says—then catches the double meaning and laughs, deep and unfiltered.

  She leans in further, her torso brushing his thigh, her lips close to his ear. Whatever she says next makes them both laugh again—his, hearty; hers, knowing.

  I watch without blinking. Lyra’s reach is everywhere. Even here, thirty thousand feet above the Republic, she’s already set the tone.

  And Eddie? He's steeped in it now. The Republic is a dream of decadent lifestyle—the only country where, at 3 AM, you can pick up the phone and order sushi, a massage, or something less nameable, and it'll arrive faster than regret. Here, money doesn't just buy things. It orchestrates reality. After twenty years, Eddie's no stranger to it. He's fluent in its logic, seduced by its velocity, surrendered to its spell.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  That makes things easy. My lips curve into a smile.

  There are two attendants in first class. Ours is Nuanwen—poised, polished, and far more perceptive than she lets on. When she comes to take my order, I open the menu and tilt it just enough for her to see the note I’ve scribbled inside.

  “Miso-marinated cod, daikon salad, quenelle of wasabi mousse,” I order in a soft voice. Then, without looking up, “Do you think this will work?”

  She nods, firm and knowing. “Definitely.” Her smile is subtle, but it carries weight—like she knows exactly the kind of person Eddie is. Even in the conservative airline uniform, she’s striking. Controlled. Dangerous.

  She turns her charm up a notch when taking Eddie’s order—leaning in, whispering, chuckling. He glances at me, quick and guilty, checking if I’m listening. I’ve already put on my headphones, eyes on the screen. He relaxes.

  Somewhere over Mongolia, dinner is served. Beautiful plating, forgettable flavor. Eddie barely touches his meal except for the champagne, already buried in a spreadsheet. He’s nervous. Of course he is. Reporting to Grandpa is like presenting a thesis to a wolf. The old man sees through dressed-up numbers in seconds. He’s ruthless, never sentimental.

  Fifteen minutes after the cabin lights dim, Eddie rises and slips behind the curtain to the lavatory. As the door clicks shut, I stand. Nuanwen is already waiting. She produces the key, unlocks the door, and I slide in without a word.

  She locks it behind me.

  Eddie stands at the toilet, urinating. When he turns his head, shock replaces his half-smile.

  "Eva," he stumbles over words like ice. "I'm... I'm just...just…taking a leak."

  I calm him down with a sensual smile. "And you can leak some more in here." I press a finger to my crimson lips.

  He wouldn't be the first man who'd used my mouth, not even the second. I marvel at how much one can change in a single week. Total transformation—from virgin to enchantress.

  Keyang took my virginity, Qiuhan took my dignity, Lyra took my inhibition, and now Eddie will take whatever remains of my innocence.

  I step forward and reach my hand around him, my fingers find his member. I feel his pulse quicken beneath my touch. His breath catches—sharp, then ragged.

  "Finish," I whisper silkily into his ear. He relaxes as I lightly massage him, warm fluid flowing again.

  After he's done, I gently turn him around. It's a difficult maneuver in such a cramped space.

  I draw water from the faucet to rinse him clean. The droplets splatter on his pants, pooled at his knees. He doesn't notice. His eyes have gone distant, half-lidded—a man drowning in a fantasy suddenly made flesh.

  He moans my name. Not for the first time, I realize. The little girl he once read The Wizard of Oz to has become something else in his mind. Something he's jerked off imagining for far too long.

  I sink to my knees on the cold floor. His circumcised length is a welcoming change from those long foreskins I've taken for granted.

  But I'm not here. Not really.

  My mind fractures, splits away. I'm back in Qiuhan's dungeon—suspended upside down, spread bar between my legs, mouth violated by his disgusting member, while the old man drips candle wax between my legs.

  The slightly salty taste of Eddie's tip reminds me of the hot liquid running from my neck to my face and dripping into my mouth when the Butcher urinated on me.

  The Butcher—that's what they call him, for his ruthless execution of the Party's Disciplinary arm. He knows exactly how to break a person.

  That was the price I already paid to launch the coin—my dignity, my peace. Failure isn’t an option now. Eddie has to fall in line. Not just as an ally, but as a loyal dog: obedient, unquestioning, ready to lie through his teeth if I ask.

  I could have finished him in five minutes, but I slow down and draw it out, making it unforgettable for him. Making it worth the blackmail to follow.

  My tongue twirls, my lips work rhythmically, and I apply myself with diligence. I give him the full treatment, using all the techniques Lyra taught me.

  After fifteen long minutes, when he finally ejaculates, I swallow. He gives me eleven pumps, each full of vigor. Whatever Nuanwen slipped in his champagne must be really potent.

  When I'm sure he's finished, I open my mouth to let him see everything left on my tongue, then swallow deliberately. His eyes widen with excitement at the sight.

  As I rise to rinse my mouth, he appears almost apologetic. "Eva…," he calls me, but can't find the words to follow. After a long pause, he says, "You are amazing."

  I don't have time to answer, busy emptying the tiny bottle of mouthwash and rinsing with three paper cups in succession. His eyes follow me, glazed with spent desire and dawning comprehension.

  After I finally get rid of that foul taste, I offer him a lover's smile before slipping out the door.

  Nuanwen waits with a knowing look, flashing an OK sign with her long fingers. I know exactly what she means.

  When Eddie returns to his seat, the first thing he will see on his laptop is a multi-angled video. Without the start or the end, just the part where he relentlessly thrusts his shaft in and out of the mouth of Grandpa's most treasured little princess.