The Forge's east wing was finally complete. The walls were painted, the wiring installed, and the floors polished to a clean shine. What had once been a dream was now a physical space with classrooms, tools, and potential. The community was beginning to believe in it, and for the first time in months, Ethan felt like they were winning.
But deep inside, he couldn't ignore a growing unease.
It started with whispers.
A local supplier suddenly canceled an order. A subcontractor who had been with them from the beginning pulled out of a roofing job without notice. City inspectors showed up for surprise walkthroughs—twice in one week. It wasn't uncommon, but something felt off. Ethan knew what sabotage looked like. He'd lived it in the corporate world. He could sense it now.
One afternoon, Ethan sat across from Victoria in the project office. She had her laptop open, scrolling through emails and budget updates.
"We're still under budget for materials," she said. "But barely. And if we get hit with another unexpected delay, we'll be forced to dip into the training grant."
"We can't touch that," Ethan said. "That money's meant for students. If we use it for construction, we'll have to explain it during audits."
Victoria nodded. "Then we need to figure out what's happening. Too many things are going wrong too fast."
Ethan leaned back in his chair. "Lowell."
"Probably. But he's not showing his hand this time."
"He's smarter now. Learned from the lawsuit."
She sighed. "Then we'll have to be smarter too."
Just then, Alicia walked in holding a small box.
"This came for you," she said, handing it to Ethan.
He opened it and found a sleek, black folder inside. On the cover was a gold-embossed logo: Lexcor Partners.
He frowned. "What's Lexcor?"
Victoria leaned forward. "That's a private investment firm. I've heard of them. Very quiet. Very connected."
Inside the folder was a simple letter.
> Mr. Blake,
We've been following your progress with the Forge Initiative. Impressive work. We believe in backing bold visions—especially those overlooked by traditional funding channels. We'd like to schedule a meeting to discuss a potential partnership.
—Lexcor Strategic Division
A card with a name and number was attached: Daniel Crest, Managing Partner.
Ethan read the letter again. It was flattering, but vague.
Alicia was already looking up the firm on her phone. "They have offices in New York and Miami. No official website, though. That's odd."
"Sounds shady," Victoria added.
"It might be," Ethan said. "But it also might be an opportunity."
Alicia gave him a look. "You're not seriously considering meeting with them, are you?"
"I'm not saying yes. But I want to know who's behind this."
"Let me come with you," Alicia offered.
Ethan nodded. "Alright. Let's see what they're really offering."
The meeting took place in a quiet, upscale hotel suite downtown. Daniel Crest was a polished man in his late forties, dressed in a custom navy-blue suit and Italian shoes. He greeted them with charm and offered them bottled water and coffee.
"I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Blake," he said as they sat.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Most of it probably bad."
Crest smiled. "I'm not interested in your past. I'm interested in your future."
"And you want to invest?"
"I want to partner," Crest corrected. "Lexcor backs visionaries. And the Forge is exactly the kind of project that aligns with our mission—high impact, community-centered, and currently underfunded."
Ethan didn't speak. He was waiting for the catch.
Crest continued. "We offer strategic capital. Fast funding. No red tape. In return, we become long-term partners in your growth."
"How long-term?" Alicia asked.
"Our standard contract is seven years. We'd help expand the Forge to multiple cities. Think national impact. Real scale."
"And what do you want in return?" Ethan asked.
"Ten percent of the project's ownership. We'd be silent partners. You keep control. We provide funding and resources behind the scenes."
The offer sounded too clean.
"No website, no press coverage. That's unusual," Alicia said.
Crest smiled. "Discretion is our strength. We fund vision, not headlines."
Ethan kept his expression neutral. "I'll think about it."
"I expected nothing less," Crest said with a grin. "Take your time. But don't take too long. Opportunities move fast."
As they left the hotel, Alicia waited until they were out of earshot.
"This smells like trouble," she said.
"I agree," Ethan replied. "But I need to know more. I'll ask Victoria to run a deep check on them."
"And if they're tied to Lowell?"
"Then we expose them."
The next few days were a blur.
The team kept pushing to finish the last section of the Forge. The training programs were scheduled to start in just under a month. Ethan barely slept. He moved between sites, meetings, and phone calls, trying to stay one step ahead of whatever was being thrown their way.
Then Victoria called him one night.
"I found something," she said.
Ethan sat up. "Lexcor?"
"Yes. They're connected to a holding group in the Cayman Islands. That group has direct financial ties to an investment vehicle run by—you guessed it—Lowell Development."
Ethan closed his eyes. "So it's a trap."
"Looks like it. They're trying to get inside your house this time. Not burn it down from the outside."
Alicia's voice echoed from the kitchen where she was making tea. "What's going on?"
Ethan held the phone away and said, "It's Lexcor. They're tied to Lowell."
Alicia cursed softly. "Of course they are."
Back on the phone, Victoria continued, "This isn't just sabotage anymore. It's infiltration. If you'd signed that deal, they'd control everything."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "We need to get ahead of this. Publicly."
"Already working on it," Victoria replied. "We'll issue a statement tomorrow warning similar nonprofits to be cautious about shadow investors. We don't name them, but we make it clear we're not for sale."
"Good," Ethan said. "Thanks, Vic."
He hung up, walked to the kitchen, and leaned against the counter.
"They're desperate," Alicia said. "Which means we're winning."
"Or they know we're about to," Ethan replied. "Either way, they're not done."
She reached for his hand. "We'll handle it. Like we always do."
He looked into her eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
A soft smile curved her lips. "You won't have to find out."
The next morning, the Forge issued its public statement. It was clear, bold, and direct. They reaffirmed their independence, their mission, and their refusal to take investment from "undisclosed or questionable funding sources." Within hours, other community leaders began sharing the post. It gained traction online. News outlets picked it up. The message was clear: the Forge was not for sale.
Lowell, sitting in his high-rise office, slammed a folder shut as he read the news.
"They saw through it," he muttered.
His assistant, nervously watching from the doorway, said, "Should I cancel the Lexcor meeting?"
Lowell didn't answer. He stood, walked to the window, and stared out over the city.
"He's smarter than I thought," he finally said. "But he still has weaknesses. We just haven't hit the right one yet."
He turned back with a cold glint in his eyes.
"Find me someone who knows everything about Ethan Blake. Someone from his past."