From Damnation to Dominance: Revenge of the Abused Heir

6. Three years of Training.

John Morales gestured to the window, which looked out over the bleak prison yard. 

“This place, which was meant to be your downfall, will enable you to rise to power. I am purchasing this entire facility. It will be gutted and transformed into a comprehensive training ground. 

I've assigned several masters that are going to guide you through on how to become formidable and indestructible. They are going to show you what it takes to be powerful.

And every time you feel the strain, every time you want to quit, you will remember the humiliation and pain you suffered here. This is going to motivate you not to give up!”

Meanwhile, Victor looked confused, “I thought you are getting me out of here! You mean I'm still staying here.” He was frustrated. 

John Morales chuckled sheepily, “What do you expect? I'm here to give you something worthy, better than freedom. You're spending your three years sentence here, that's price for whatever I'm giving you!” 

Victor didn't bother saying anything further, he buried his face into his hand and sighed heavily. 

And so, the transformation began. The prison was emptied of its general population and underwent a silent, rapid metamorphosis. 

The cellblocks became barracks and classrooms. The exercise yard was outfitted with state-of-the-art training equipment. The library was stocked with texts on global finance, corporate law, political strategy, and military history.

For three years, Victor did not leave the grounds. He was cut off from the world. His instructors were the best in their fields: a former Swiss banker who taught him the intricate dance of high finance; a retired Mossad agent who schooled him in combat, intelligence gathering, and the art of psychological warfare; a two hundred year old master, who taught him everything about herbs and medicine. 

His body hardened into a weapon, his mind sharpened into a razor. The raw, emotional anger of the betrayed boy was refined into the cold, calculating focus of an overlord. 

He learned to control his expressions, to mask his intentions, to see the hidden levers of power in every situation. He was no longer learning; he was preparing for the future

Three years to the day after he was first brought onto the prison, Victor Morales stood before the main gates of the facility. It was a bright, sunny morning.

The air around him was suffocating, it screamed of freedom. After every learning and hard traing, he was finally out today. 

Victor scanned the vicinity and saw no one was here to welcome him. He sighed heavily. 

Nevertheless, he was not surprised that no one was there to meet him. For the entire one thousand and ninety five days he spent in prison, none of them had visited him. 

Even if they had, they would have realized he had never truly been imprisoned. In other words, he's pleased none of them had no idea about the development. It something he would love to keep to himself. 

The Potter family had written him off, and they don't care about him. Sandra had likely moved on, secure in her belief that he was rotting in a cell. Their ignorance was his advantage.

He was a different man. The prison jumpsuit had been replaced by a bespoke, charcoal-grey suit that fit his powerful new frame perfectly. 

His hair was shorter, his posture radiating a quiet, controlled authority. His eyes, once full of excitement, now held a stillness that was ancient and impenetrable. 

He carried a simple leather briefcase containing the documents and assets his grandfather had provided. But he needed one last thing from his old life.

While waiting at the gate, a luxury black sedan, its engine purring softly, pulled up to the curb. 

A driver emerged, giving a respectful nod. “Mr. Morales, I'm really sorry for keeping you waiting. Your grandfather is expecting you!”

Victor waved his hand dismissively, and stated. “Before that, I will need you to take me somewhere!” 

He slid into the plush interior, the scent of fine leather attacked his nose instantly, a world away from the familiar stench of prison.

The driver ran quickly to the car, and asked respectfully, “Where would like me to take you, sir?”

“The Potter estate,” he said, his voice calm. “It’s time to collect what’s mine and close that chapter for good.”