50 BILLION REASONS FOR REVENGE

HIS DEATH

"Zeus! You brainless oaf! Get in here and scrub this floor again! I can still see my reflection’s breath on the marble!"

The roar echoed through the vaulted corridors of the Obsidian Estate. Gabriel stood in the center of the grand hall, his face flushed a deep crimson, pointing a trembling finger at a microscopic speck of dust. At twenty-four, Gabriel possessed the sharp features of his father, Lord Mathew, but none of the man’s warmth. His eyes were cold slits of resentment.

Zeus entered the room quietly. He was a man of solid build and infinite patience, his hands calloused from decades of labor. He had arrived at the estate as a shivering seven-year-old orphan, and Lord Mathew had raised him with a firm but kind hand.

"I apologize, Master Gabriel," Zeus said, his voice a calm tide against Gabriel’s storm. "I will attend to it immediately."

"Don’t 'Master Gabriel' me with that tone," Gabriel spat, kicking a nearby bucket of soapy water. The gray liquid splashed across Zeus’s leather boots. "You think because my father treats you like a second son that you’re someone special? You’re a servant. You were born in the dirt, and you’ll die in it."

Zeus didn't flinch. He simply knelt and began to wipe the floor. "I know my place, Master Gabriel."

"Do you? Because lately, I see you whispering with him in the study. I see the way he looks at you—with pride. It’s disgusting." Gabriel turned on his heel, his silk robes snapping behind him like a whip. "Clean it. And if I find one more streak, I’ll have you sleeping in the stables with the hounds."

Later that evening, Zeus returned to the small, cozy cottage on the edge of the estate. The smell of stewed tomatoes and herbs filled the air. Maria, his wife, was setting the table while their two young children, Leo and Sara, played with wooden blocks by the hearth.

Maria looked up, her eyes softening as she saw the weariness in Zeus’s shoulders. "He was at it again, wasn't he? Gabriel?"

Zeus sighed, kissing the top of her head. "He is young and bitter, Maria. He feels the weight of his father’s shadow and doesn't know how to step out of it."

"He is a bully, Zeus," Maria whispered, leaning against him. "Lord Mathew is a saint, but that boy... he has a hollow space where his heart should be. I worry for us. If anything happened to the Lord—"

"Lord Mathew is strong," Zeus reassured her, though a flicker of unease danced in his chest. "And I am his loyal servant. As long as I serve well, you and the children are safe."

Around midnight, a messenger summoned Zeus to the Lord’s private library. The room was thick with the scent of old parchment and expensive tobacco. Lord Mathew sat behind a massive oak desk, the firelight casting long shadows across his aged, noble face. He looked tired—older than he had just a week ago.

"Sit, Zeus," Mathew commanded gently.

"I am fine standing, my Lord."

"Sit," Mathew insisted. "Tonight, we do not speak as master and servant. We speak as men who care for this city."

Zeus sat on the edge of the velvet chair. Mathew sighed, pushing a heavy, wax-sealed scroll across the desk.

"I am dying, Zeus. The doctors don't say it, but I feel the marrow drying in my bones. And I have a confession: I am terrified. Not of death, but of what comes after."

"Master Gabriel will—"

"Gabriel will burn this city to the ground to feel the heat of the flames," Mathew interrupted sharply. "He is cruel. He lacks the empathy required to lead. If I hand him the keys to the city, the people will suffer. The blood of the innocent will be on my hands."

Mathew leaned forward, his eyes burning with intensity. "I have drafted a decree. Upon my passing, you, Zeus, will be the Regent and Leader of this city. You know the people. You know the laws. You have the heart of a protector."

Zeus felt the blood drain from his face. He stood up abruptly. "No, my Lord. You cannot. I am a servant! The people will not follow a man who spent twenty years scrubbing their floors. Gabriel is your blood. It is his birthright."

"Birthright is a fairy tale told by kings to justify their greed," Mathew growled. "Capability is the only truth. I have made my decision. I have set up a trust for Gabriel. Every month, a generous sum will be paid into his personal account. He will live in luxury. He will have his wine, his clothes, and his horses. But he will never sit in this chair. He will take no part in the council. He will have no power over the lives of others."

"My Lord, please," Zeus pleaded, his voice shaking. "He will kill me. He will hate me even more than he does now."

"I am protecting him from himself, Zeus. And I am protecting the city. You will accept this, or you will break an old man’s heart."

Outside the heavy library doors, pressed against the cold stone wall, Gabriel stood paralyzed. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists. He had followed Zeus, hoping to catch him in some mistake he could use to get him whipped. Instead, he had heard his own death sentence.

A servant? Gabriel’s mind screamed. He would give my kingdom to a dog who cleans his boots?

The humiliation tasted like ash in his mouth. The money meant nothing. The allowance was a leash—a way for his father to keep him as a pampered pet while the "obedient servant" wore the crown.

Gabriel crept away before the door could open, his heart pounding a rhythm of pure, unadulterated rage. He didn't go to his room. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a heavy silk cord used to tie back the curtains.

An hour later, the estate was silent. The only sound was the wind whistling through the gargoyles on the roof.

Lord Mathew lay in his grand bed, his breathing shallow and labored. He had fallen into a restless sleep, his mind finally at ease having told Zeus his plan. He didn't hear the door creak open. He didn't see the shadow moving across the floor.

Gabriel stood over his father. In the moonlight, the old man looked fragile, but Gabriel felt no pity. He only felt the sting of the words he had overheard: He lacks empathy. He is cruel.

"You want to see cruel, Father?" Gabriel whispered, his voice a jagged edge. "I'll show you what happens when you try to take what is mine."

He lunged.

Lord Mathew’s eyes flew open, wide with terror and confusion, as the silk cord tightened around his throat. He thrashed, his hands clawing at his son’s arms, but Gabriel was young and fueled by a lifetime of perceived slights.

"Die," Gabriel hissed, his face inches from his father's. "Die and take your decree with you. The servant will never lead. I am the Lord of this city!"

Mathew’s face turned purple. His struggles grew weaker. His fingers lost their grip on Gabriel’s sleeves, falling limp against the silk sheets. With one final, shuddering gasp, the life left the man who had built the city's peace.

Gabriel stood back, gasping for air. He looked at his hands, then at the still form on the bed. He didn't feel guilt. He felt a surge of electric power.

He reached into his father’s nightstand and found the key to the library. He knew where the scroll was. He would burn it, and by morning, he would be the grieving heir. And Zeus? Zeus would be the first person he sent to the gallows.

The sun rose over the city, painting the stone walls in hues of gold and amber. But inside the estate, a scream shattered the peace.

Zeus had come to wake his master with his morning tea. He found the door ajar. He found the room cold. And he found the man who had been a father to him lying cold and blue-lipped on the bed.

The tea tray crashed to the floor. Porcelain shattered.

"My Lord?" Zeus whispered, rushing to the bedside. He felt for a pulse he knew wouldn't be there. He saw the faint, bruised line around the neck.

"No... no, no, no."

"Guards!"

The voice came from the doorway. Zeus turned to see Gabriel standing there, his eyes wide, his clothes disheveled. He looked the picture of a horrified son.

"Guards! Help!" Gabriel screamed, pointing at Zeus. "The servant! He's killed my father! I caught him red-handed! Zeus has murdered the Lord!"

Zeus froze. He looked at Gabriel, and in the depths of the young man’s eyes, he saw the truth. He saw the cold triumph. He realized then that the crown Lord Mathew had tried to give him was not a gift, but a noose.

"I didn't do this, Gabriel," Zeus said, his voice low and dangerous.

"Tell it to the executioner," Gabriel sneered, as the sound of heavy boots thundered down the hallway.

The struggle for the city had begun, and the obedient servant was now the most hunted man in the kingdom.