The next morning, Kai received an anonymous message. His phone buzzed while he was eating breakfast, the vibration sharp against the polished mahogany table. The number was blocked. No name. Just those five words. "He's closer than you think." Kai stared at the screen. His reflection stared back at him in the dark glass. He looked pale beneath the dining room's warm chandelier lights. The eggs on his plate suddenly seemed greasy. The coffee in his cup tasted bitter, like it had been sitting too long. He's closer than you think. Could mean Edward was already in the city. Could mean someone inside the estate was working for him. Could mean anything. Kai set the phone down slowly, his fingers lingering on the edge of the screen. His thumb traced the glass as if he could fe

The emergency board meeting was called that afternoon.Kai stood in front of the mirror in his room, adjusting his tie for the third time. His reflection stared back at him...pale, tired, but something else too. Something harder in his eyes. Something that hadn't been there a week ago.He thought about his grandfather, lying unconscious in the medical wing. About his mother's steady gaze, telling him he'd been leading all along. About Margaret's confession, Walter's guilt, Damien's vulnerability.And now Victor.Kai's fingers stilled on the knot of his tie.He had been humiliated his whole life. By customers who looked down on him. By Serena's family. By the world that had decided he wasn't good enough.But Victor had been part of something worse. Something that had cost his father his life.Kai let his hands drop."I'm ready," he said quietly to his reflection.The mirror didn't answer.But he didn't need it to.---Kai walked into the boardroom with Margaret at his side.The room wa

Dawn broke over the estate like a wound.Kai stood at the window of his room, watching the light creep across the gardens. The sky was pale gray, streaked with pink and gold, but he barely noticed. His hand rested against the glass, cool and solid beneath his palm.The letter from his father sat on the bedside table.He had read it again at sunrise. And again. And again. Each time, the words hit him differently. Sometimes they brought tears. Sometimes they brought anger. Sometimes, like now, they brought something quieter...a resolve that had settled deep into his bones.You are a Mercer. And you are my son.Kai's reflection stared back at him in the glass.Tired. Pale. But something else too. Something that hadn't been there before.He was ready.He turned from the window and walked to the bed. His fingers traced the edge of the letter one last time before he folded it carefully and placed it back into the envelope.Then he walked out of the room.---The mansion was waking up around

The warehouse district stretched before them like a graveyard of forgotten industry.Kai stared through the windshield at the building Marcus had identified. It was massive, three stories of crumbling brick and shattered windows, its roof sagging in the middle like a tired old man. Graffiti covered the walls in layers of faded color. The loading dock doors were rusted shut. A single light glowed from a window on the second floor.Edward Mercer was inside.Kai's hand rested on the door handle. His heart pounded against his ribs, but his face remained calm. He had spent the entire drive preparing for this moment...rehearsing what he would say, steeling himself for what he might see."Remember," Marcus said from the back seat, "he's dangerous. But he's also cornered. Cornered men make mistakes."Damien sat beside Marcus, his face pale but composed. His eyes were fixed on the building. His jaw was set."I'll go in first," Damien said quietly. "He's my father. He might listen to me."Kai t

The study smelled like his father.Damien stood in the center of the room, his hands hanging loose at his sides, his eyes moving slowly across the space. Edward's private study had been sealed since his arrest, the door locked, the windows shuttered. But Damien had a key. He had always had a key.The scent of cigars still lingered in the air, mixed with expensive cologne and something darker...something that might have been fear. The walls were lined with leather-bound books that Edward had never read. The desk was polished to a mirror shine, empty except for a silver pen and a single photograph.Damien walked toward the desk.The photograph showed his father at a company event, smiling that empty smile, surrounded by people who had feared him. Damien remembered that night. He had been seventeen, standing in the corner, watching his father work the room like a politician.He had felt so small.Damien set the photograph down and moved to the bookshelf. His fingers traced the spines of