Three days.That’s how long Ethan Archer had been silent. No public appearances, no statements, no leaks.But silence had its own sound—whispers, panic, collapsing empires.And in those three days, the world began to burn—one name at a time.The first name to fall was Thompson.***The Fall BeginsMargaret Thompson stood in her corner office, once a palace of glass and gold. The marble floors gleamed like ice, the walls still lined with framed magazine covers declaring THE THOMPSON DYNASTY: UNTOUCHABLE.Now, those same headlines mocked her. Red and blue lights flashed against the windows from the street below—federal agents, reporters, and creditors swarming like vultures.Her trembling assistant clutched a folder. “Ma’am… the bank has frozen every corporate account. The board— they all resigned this morning. And the auditors found… discrepancies.”Margaret’s nails dug into her palm. “What discrepancies?”“Everything,” the girl whispered. “Offshore accounts, forged patents, fake inves

The rain hadn’t stopped in three days.It drummed against the broken windows of the abandoned hotel where Leo and Evelyn hid, each drop echoing like a heartbeat counting down. The room smelled of dust and rusted pipes, the only light coming from a flickering lamp Leo had salvaged from a nearby store.He hadn’t slept....Not really.Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ethan’s face—the calm, dangerous quiet before he promised a war.Evelyn sat across from him, her hands wrapped around a chipped mug of tea that had long gone cold. The years hadn’t dulled her beauty, only sharpened it. There was strength in her stillness, and sadness too, the kind that made Leo wonder how much of Ethan lived inside her.“You should rest,” she said softly.Leo shook his head. “He’s already moving. I can feel it.”Her eyes lifted to him, calm and certain. “Ethan doesn’t rush. He watches. He waits until everyone believes they’re safe, and then he moves.”“That supposed to make me feel better?”“It’s supposed

The city didn’t sleep that night—neither did Ethan Archer.From his office on the 78th floor, he watched rain slice through the skyline, blurring the lights into streaks of gold and white. Below, Archer Tower’s mirrored walls reflected the world he built on vengeance—flawless, precise, and hollow.He hadn’t moved since Clara left. The gold ring still lay on his desk, catching flashes of lightning. Each glint felt like an accusation.Varis entered quietly, carrying a tablet. “Sir. The Thompsons’ accounts are frozen. Their overseas assets, too. The media’s turning. By tomorrow, they’ll be begging for air.”Ethan didn’t look away from the window. “And the board?”“Panicking,” Varis said. “Half of them owe you favors. The rest are trying to figure out whether to side with you or save themselves.”Ethan’s reflection gave the faintest of smiles. “Let them guess. Fear is more valuable than loyalty.”Varis hesitated. “There’s something else. The files Margaret mentioned—they exist.”That drew

The Thompson mansion glittered that night like an empire pretending it hadn’t already fallen.Crystal chandeliers blazed from the ceiling, music pulsed low and seductive, and every guest wore a smile worth millions and secrets worth more. Outside, the storm had finally passed, but inside, the air carried a different kind of tension — the kind that came before a reckoning.Leo Harrison stood near the bar in a tailored midnight suit, a glass of bourbon swirling lazily in his hand. To the untrained eye, he was the perfect guest — calm, magnetic, untouchable. But beneath that polish, his jaw was tight, his pulse uneven. Every toast, every whisper in the crowd reminded him of one name that refused to die.Ethan Archer.“He won’t last,” Daniel Thompson’s voice echoed as he joined Leo, smiling that rich man’s smile that never reached his eyes. “Men like him burn too bright. Eventually, they burn out.”Leo didn’t answer. He knew the line too well. It was Daniel’s favorite — his way of pretend

Ethan stood in his penthouse, shirt sleeves rolled, eyes fixed on the skyline that bled silver under the storm. The city was his mirror — brilliant on the surface, but dark underneath.Varis hovered a few feet behind him, tablet in hand. “The Thompsons have filed for bankruptcy protection,” he said. “Margaret’s board resigned this morning. Daniel’s under federal questioning.”Ethan didn’t move. His reflection on the glass looked calm, but his fingers tapped once against the frame — a subtle rhythm that meant his mind was already ten steps ahead.“And Leo?” he asked quietly.“Still underground,” Varis replied. “Our sources traced a signal on the east end last night, but it disappeared again. He’s not moving alone.”Ethan’s jaw flexed. “Then someone’s protecting him.”Varis hesitated. “We believe it’s her.”The silence after that word was heavy enough to suffocate.Her.Evelyn Veyne. The ghost of his past. The woman who had given him life and then disappeared from it.Ethan turned slowl