Seven-year-old Toby Miller pressed his newest crayon sketch against the pale wall of Room 412, filling the very last patch of empty space next to the unconscious man’s bed.

The massive boardroom screens snapped to life.

They didn't show financial projections. They showed the security footage of Julian and Clara kissing in the penthouse. The audio played, crystal clear and deafeningly loud.

"The brakes will fail on the descent... Once he is declared legally dead, you inherit his personal estate, and I take absolute control..."

The boardroom erupted into outrage. The executives stared at Julian and Clara in sheer horror.

Clara began to sob, backing toward the door. "It's a deepfake! He faked the video!"

"Did I fake this, too?" Arthur asked, pressing the button again.

The screen shifted, showing a photograph of Hector the mechanic, holding today's newspaper, sitting in a police interrogation room. Then, the audio of Julian explicitly paying Hector to sabotage the car played.

Julian lunged forward, desperately trying to grab the remote from Arthur's hand. "Shut it off!"

Arthur didn't flinch. He swung his silver cane, striking Julian squarely in the chest, sending his treacherous half-brother crashing back over the boardroom table.

"You cut my brakes," Arthur growled, leaning over the table, his eyes burning with wrath. "You left me paralyzed in a hospital bed as John Doe. You thought you could steal my company and my life. But you forgot one crucial detail, Julian."

Julian groaned, clutching his chest, completely defeated. "What?"

"I built this empire," Arthur whispered maliciously. "I am the ghost in the machine. You never owned a single piece of it."