BLACK LEDGER

3

Kellan yanked at the silk tie around his neck. It felt more suffocating than a barbed-wire snare on the battlefield. In front of the marble-topped vanity mirror, he stared at the stranger staring back.

His usually disheveled hair was now cropped short in a sharp, slick-back style. His rough beard had been shaved clean, leaving a jawline that looked like it had been carved from cold stone.

"Sebastian Crowe doesn't wear a tie like that, Kellan. You look like a man about to be hanged, not a high-stakes investor," Sydney’s voice echoed from behind the bathroom door.

Kellan turned the faucet, splashing his face with cold water that felt like it pierced his bones. "I’d rather wear a bulletproof vest than this damn cloth."

He stepped out into the living area of a penthouse apartment larger than his unit’s entire former barracks. Sydney stood by the private bar, pouring amber liquid into two crystal glasses.

"Get used to it. Your weapon now isn't a SIG Sauer; it’s your appearance," Sydney handed him a glass. "The business world is about perception. If they see even one 'soldier's' crack in your eyes, they’ll eat you alive."

Kellan sipped the whiskey. It tasted expensive, but the bitterness was no different from his fate. He set the glass down with a sharp clink on the glass table. "How long do I have to play this charade?"

Sydney placed a silver briefcase on the table. Click. It popped open, revealing stacks of ID cards, passports from three different countries, and several encrypted phones.

"Until Paulo and his network are leveled to the ground," Sydney replied flatly. "But there is a price to pay for these facilities."

Sydney pulled out a single small document. Its content was brief, but to Kellan, it was a death sentence.

"Two years," Sydney looked at him emotionlessly. "Two years with no contact. No secret phone calls. No standing outside Gina’s window in the middle of the night. You cannot exist to them."

Kellan’s jaw tightened; the veins in his neck bulged. "You’re asking me to let Dwayne take my place for two years? He was my best friend, Sydney. I know how he looks at Gina. He’s been waiting for this moment for a long time!"

"That is exactly why you must stay silent!" Sydney shot back, her voice rising as she stepped forward to challenge him. "Dwayne Philips has connections in the Ministry of Defense. One suspicious move from you, and he’ll brand you a traitor who fled the mission. Do you want Gina to see her husband end up in military prison or executed for desertion?"

Kellan went silent. His tightly clenched fists slowly loosened, though they trembled with suppressed rage.

"I’m giving you the power to crush them all, Sebastian," Sydney lowered her voice to a near whisper. "But power requires patience. Let Dwayne feel like he’s won. Let him build that 'happy family' on a foundation of lies. Because when you return, his ruin will taste much sweeter."

Kellan stared at his new identity card. Sebastian Crowe. The name felt foreign on his tongue, but it was his only ticket back.

"Two years," Kellan muttered coldly. He picked up a gleaming Patek Philippe watch from the case and strapped it to his wrist, covering an old scar. "But if in those two years he hurts Gina or Leo... I don't care about your plan. I’ll rip his heart out with my own hands."

Sydney gave a thin smile. "A fair deal."

Sydney didn't break her gaze, as if dissecting every remaining inch of doubt in Kellan’s eyes. She paced around the marble table, the click of her high heels sounding like a clock counting down the remains of Kellan Draik’s life.

"The world thinks you died in a shameful explosion, Kellan. But to me, you are the most valuable asset because you have nothing left to lose," Sydney stopped right beside him. The scent of expensive sandalwood perfume wafted faintly, trying to mask the smell of gunpowder that seemed to still cling to Kellan’s pores.

Kellan looked at the Patek Philippe on his wrist. The glint of the metal reflected the light from the crystal chandelier above. "Ares Capital. A bold name for an investment firm."

"Ares is the God of War, Sebastian. Fitting for a man who will conquer the stock market with a killer’s instincts," Sydney picked up a slim tablet from the table and swiped through several charts. "This is the corporate structure of Gina McKenn’s company. McKenn Logistics. It’s bleeding. Paulo is intentionally choking their distribution lines at the harbor, while Dwayne Philips poses as the 'savior' by injecting fresh funds from his construction firm."

Kellan’s hand holding the whiskey glass shook for a second. "Dwayne is using his money to buy Gina’s loyalty?"

"More than that. He’s buying dependency. Gina has no choice. If she rejects Dwayne, hundreds of her employees lose their jobs and she loses her father’s legacy. Dwayne is playing it perfectly. He doesn't force anything; he’s just... always there when she’s vulnerable."

Kellan downed the rest of his whiskey, feeling the burn crawl down his throat. "And my job is to destroy the distribution lines Paulo controls?"

"Your job is to become a bigger predator than Paulo. You will enter the market as Sebastian Crowe, a mysterious investor looking to acquire that harbor. While Paulo is busy dealing with you, you’ll have the access to pull the strings binding Gina’s company. But remember my condition..." Sydney paused, her voice turning ice-cold. "If you show up in front of Gina even once before the time is right, all of this access closes. I will make sure you’re deported to an enemy state as a traitor."

Kellan turned, staring out the massive window overlooking the city center. In the distance, the streetlights looked like veins of blood flowing through the body of a sick city.

"What about Leo?" Kellan’s voice cracked. "He’s only three. He’ll forget his father’s face."

Sydney exhaled, an expression resembling pity appearing for a moment before vanishing behind her professional mask. "He will have a living father in the future, rather than a dead one who’s just a name on an empty headstone. The choice is yours, Sebastian."

Kellan clenched his fist. His mind drifted to the living room of his modest home. He could imagine Gina sitting on their old sofa, clutching a pillow and crying, while Dwayne sat beside her, offering poisonous sweet words. Nausea hit his stomach. He wanted to run there, kick down the door, and drag Dwayne out.

However, he saw his reflection in the window glass. This man in the expensive suit. If he went home now, he was just a fugitive wanted for a failed mission. He wouldn't bring safety—only disaster.

"I need access to monitor them," Kellan said without turning around. "I won't go near. I just want to know they’re safe."

Sydney smiled thinly, as if she had anticipated the request. She handed a very slim black phone to Kellan. "This phone is connected to my organization’s private satellite. You can access the surveillance cameras around Gina’s office and your neighborhood. But remember, never try to send a message or make a call. That phone is for eyes only, not voices."

Kellan took the phone as if it were both a sacred relic and a curse. He touched the screen, and immediately a grainy image of his tightly closed front gate appeared. There was a black SUV he recognized parked out front—Dwayne’s car.

Kellan’s blood boiled. "He’s still there? It’s eleven at night!"

"He’s building trust, Sebastian. And you... you are building a legend," Sydney placed a hand on Kellan’s shoulder, a firm pressure reminding him of reality. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, the world will know you as Sebastian Crowe. You have a meeting with the harbor board of directors at nine. Don't be late."

Sydney walked toward the exit of the penthouse, leaving Kellan alone in a luxury that felt like a golden cage.

Kellan sat on the leather sofa that still smelled of the factory. He opened the silver briefcase again, examining his new identities one by one. A British passport, an American driver’s license, an elite club membership card in Zurich. Everything was authentic, yet felt fake in his hands.

He picked up one of the phones and searched for Gina McKenn’s name. A local news article appeared: "War Hero’s Widow Struggles to Save Family Business." Below it was a photo of Gina walking out of a courthouse, looking terribly thin and exhausted. Beside her, Dwayne Philips held an umbrella for her, looking at her with a gaze Kellan wanted to erase with his fists.

"Two years," Kellan whispered into the silence of the room. "I’ll give you two years to feel like a winner, Dwayne. Enjoy every second of it. Because every cent you spend on Gina, every piece of help you give... I will pay you back with suffering you could never imagine."

Kellan stood up and walked toward his bedroom. He shed his expensive jacket, letting it fall to the floor. Under the dim bedside lamp, he looked at the bandaged scar on his stomach. The pain was beginning to dull, replaced by a cold emptiness.

He no longer felt like Kellan Draik. That man had died in the trenches of the northern valley. The man standing here was Sebastian Crowe—a weapon waiting for the right time to detonate.

Outside, rain began to fall, streaking the penthouse windows. Kellan closed his eyes, but what he saw wasn't darkness; it was his wife’s face, smiling on their wedding day. A smile that might now be gone, buried under the grief he himself had created.

"Goodnight, Gina," he murmured softly before consciousness was swallowed by exhaustion. "Forgive me for having to become a ghost to save you."