I stood in the center of my father’s study. The room smelled of old cigars and the kind of power that usually rots a man from the inside out.My father, Elias, sat rigidly behind his desk, fixing me with those icy, appraising eyes—the same ones I now knew had watched me drown in my first life.“The Company is changing, Victor. This new division—Nemesis Holdings—that you folded into the St. Claire Group has delivered remarkable results. The board is pleased with the Grand Company deal,” he said evenly, “but they’re uneasy about your personal affairs.”I barely stifled a laugh. For one thing, he had no idea I was quietly positioning Nemesis Holdings to become my own enterprise. All I had to do was wait—let the pieces settle, let the structure solidify, and allow the venture to reach full maturity.I was simply grooming Nemesis Holdings right under their noses.He tapped a rhythm on the mahogany wood. It sounded like a clock ticking down to an execution."You have been acting like a lone

The click of the lock sounded like a bone breaking. I stood in the pitch black pump room and realized I was a fucking idiot.I had let the System make me soft. I had stopped looking for real shadows because I was too busy waiting for red warnings."You really should have stayed in the office, Victor," a voice rasped from the corner. It wasn't Marcus.It was Julian Blackwood’s lead cleaner. A guy with a voice like sandpaper and a reputation for making people disappear.Suddenly, a flashlight blinded me. I didn't see the punch coming until it slammed into my ribs.I felt the air leave my lungs in a wet wheeze. I stumbled back, my hands clawing at the concrete wall."No ‘smart-guy’ moves to save you today, huh?" another voice mocked. There were three of them in the room.I felt a heavy boot hit my stomach. I hit the floor hard, the smell of grease and salt filling my nose.They didn't want to talk. They wanted to break me into pieces before they tossed me into the bay.I felt a fist smas

The guard opened my bedroom door with a heavy thud. He didn't say a word, just gestured for me to follow him down the stairs.My ribs still felt like they were on fire. Every step was a reminder of the dockyard and the cold water that almost took me.I walked into the drawing room and saw my father standing by the fireplace. He was holding a bottle of vintage champagne that cost more than a mid-sized car.Sarah was sitting on the sofa, looking like a porcelain doll. She had this soft, glowing look on her face that made my stomach turn."Ah, Victor. Come in, sit down," my father said. He actually sounded happy, which was the first red flag.I sat in the armchair furthest from Sarah. I could feel her eyes on me, crawling over my skin like insects."I have some news that changes everything," Elias said. He poured three glasses of the bubbling gold liquid."Sarah just shared some wonderful news with me. It seems the St. Claire legacy is more secure than we thought," he added.I looked at

I could hear the ice clinking in their glasses all the way from my bedroom. The sound of their laughter drifted up the stairs like a foul smell.I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the locked door. My head was heavy, and my skin felt cold.The drugs Sarah was putting in my tea were doing their job. I felt like I was trapped in a thick, grey fog.Below me, Marcus was celebrating. My father had officially handed him the lead on the Grand Company deal.[Subject: Marcus St. Claire. Current Role: Acting Negotiator. Confidence Level: 100%.]The System flashed the notification in my vision. It was the only thing I could still trust.I heard footsteps in the hallway. The heavy bolt on my door slid back with a loud, metallic snap.Marcus walked in first, looking like he had just won the lottery. He was wearing one of my custom silk ties."How is the patient doing today?" Marcus asked. He took a long sip of his drink and smirked at me."You look like shit, Victor. Truly. Maybe you should tr

The cathedral was full of people who did not give a damn about us. They were only there for the free champagne and the chance to be seen on television.The flowers were everywhere, thick and white and smelling like a funeral home. I stood at the altar, my shoes polished so bright I could see my own tired face in the leather.I could see the camera crews in the corners of the room. This was a show for the stockholders and the capital, a performance to prove that the St. Claire name was still solid.My father sat in the front row, looking like he had personally designed the universe. He gave me a sharp nod, the kind you give to a soldier who is finally following orders.Marcus was right next to him, wearing a suit that cost more than a small house. He kept checking his phone, probably talking to his mistress or checking the stock prices.Then the music changed, and the doors at the back of the church swung open. Sarah stepped into the light, looking like a dream in a gown that cost a fo