FROM RAGS TO THE THRONE

Chapter Two – The First Move

The storm had eased by the time Adrian Kane stepped out of the elevator into the private parking garage beneath Kane Enterprises headquarters. The underground level was nearly empty, lit by rows of cool fluorescent lights that hummed quietly above the polished concrete floor.

A sleek black Bentley waited for him near the far end, its engine already running. The driver, a tall man in a perfectly pressed suit, stepped forward and opened the rear door. "Good evening, Mr. Kane."

"Evening, Marcus," Adrian replied, sliding into the plush leather interior.

The scent of cedar and leather wrapped around him as the Bentley glided out into the wet streets. The city lights smeared across the windows, neon reflections dancing on the glass. Adrian’s mind wasn’t on the view. It was on the text.

"Careful, Kane. She’s not your only enemy."

No name. No number he recognized. And yet… the tone wasn’t Damien’s. It was sharper. Personal.

Marcus glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Straight to the penthouse, sir?"

"No," Adrian said, his voice quiet but firm. "The boardroom."

The executive floor of Kane Enterprises was a world of glass and steel, every surface gleaming, every corner designed for power. The double doors to the boardroom swung open to reveal Vivienne Holt-Kane, seated at the head of the long table.

She looked every inch the heiress, dark hair pulled into an elegant twist, diamonds catching the light at her ears, and a silk dress that whispered wealth with every movement. But her eyes… her eyes were sharp. Calculating.

"She signed them?" Vivienne asked as Adrian took the seat beside her.

"Without hesitation," Adrian replied, sliding his phone across the table. The text was still on the screen.

Vivienne read it once, then twice. "Not Damien," she said. "Too direct. And your ex-wife wouldn’t warn you. Whoever this is… they know the game you’re about to play."

"Or they’re in it," Adrian said.

Vivienne leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "Then let’s make our opening move before they do."

Within minutes, the boardroom filled with a half-dozen of Adrian’s most trusted executives. They weren’t just businesspeople, they were players in the quiet war of Westbridge’s elite.

Adrian tapped a folder on the table. "This," he began, "is Locke Global’s latest quarterly report. Notice the sudden spike in overseas investments?"

One of the executives, a wiry man named Callum, nodded. "Offshore properties. He’s bleeding cash into them."

"Exactly," Adrian said. "By tomorrow morning, I want every property linked to Damien Locke tied up in legal disputes. Zoning issues, environmental concerns, whatever it takes. Slow him down. Every day he spends fixing that mess is a day he’s not looking at us."

Vivienne’s lips curved slightly. "And Selena?"

Adrian’s eyes hardened. "She’ll lose the promotion she’s been bragging about by the end of the week."

The executives exchanged glances. They knew better than to ask how, An hour later, the meeting was over. The Bentley waited again in the underground garage. Adrian slid into the backseat, loosening his tie.

As Marcus pulled into the street, Adrian’s phone buzzed again. Same unknown number. "Your new wife has more secrets than your ex."

He stared at the message, jaw tightening, Another buzz followed immediately. This time, an image, Vivienne. Standing in the rain. Speaking to a man in the shadows. The photo was grainy, but Adrian recognized the man instantly. Damien Locke.

Adrian’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles whitened.

"Marcus," he said quietly.

"Yes, sir?"

"Turn the car around."