From Prison scapegoat to a Multi-Trillionaire

Chapter 2: Back to the Kingstons

The night was fading by the time Damien stepped onto the paved streets of the city’s most exclusive residential district. His ribs throbbed with a dull pain with every breath reminding him that he was inhabiting a weak body.

But ‘Sean Riggs’ now completely anchored as Damien ignored the pain. An old homicide detective knew exactly how to compartmentalize physical trauma when there was a case to close.

He pulled out the cheap, cracked smartphone he had swiped from Officer Vance’s locker. A fresh notification gleamed on the screen, reflecting in the dark intensity of his eyes.

> [SYSTEM NOTICE: Ghost Account #8812 fully operational. Balance: $50,000,000.00 USD.]

> [Warning: To maintain synchronization with the Multi-Trillionaire CEO identity, you must not openly disclose your wealth to the public until the final unbinding. Live as Damien.]

"Live as Damien," he muttered, a phantom thread of a smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry. I plan to."

He stopped in front of a pair of towering iron gates. Beyond them sat a sprawling, European style villa surrounded by manicured lawns. The home of the Kingston family. To the neighbors and high society, this house was a symbol of prestige.

To the original Damien, it had been a slaughterhouse where his dignity was broken.

He didn't sneak in through the back. He walked straight up to the front entrance, his steps measured and heavy, and pushed the grand double doors open.

The interior of the villa was bathed in warm, luxurious light. The scent of expensive French roast coffee floated through the air.

Standing in the grand foyer, shouting instructions to a trembling maid, was Valerie Kingston, Damien’s mother-in-law. She was a woman wrapped in an expensive gown and arrogance, her face hardened by a lifetime of looking down on anyone who couldn't buy her respect.

When the heavy front door clicked shut, Valerie turned around, an insult already forming on her perfectly painted lips.

"I told you idiots to get the morning papers—" She froze. Her jaw dropped slightly as her eyes mapped the figure standing in her foyer.

Damien was still wearing the dirty, rumpled prison guard trousers and a plain black t-shirt he had achieved. His face was full of purple bruises, his left eye bloodshot, and a thin line of dried blood traced his jawline.

He looked like something dragged out of a gutter.

"You..." Valerie gasped, her voice instantly twisting from shock to absolute venom. "Damien?! What are you doing here? How did you get out of the detention center?!"

From the living room adjacent to the foyer, a second figure appeared. Chloe Kingston. Damien’s wife. She was undeniably beautiful, with sharp, elegant features and a cold demeanor that matched her mother’s perfectly.

She was holding a coffee cup, but when she saw Damien, her fingers tightened so hard around the porcelain that her knuckles turned white.

"Damien?" Chloe’s voice trembled slightly, a flicker of panic darting through her eyes before she masked it with a sneer. "Did you escape? Are you insane? Do you want to ruin my brother's life?!"

In the past, the original Damien would have immediately dropped to his knees, trembling, weeping, and apologizing for causing them distress. He would have begged Chloe to tell him she still loved him.

Instead, the man standing before them merely tilted his head. He looked at the vast, expensive foyer, then met Valerie’s furious glare with a gaze so dark, showing no fear, that the older woman instinctively took a half-step back.

"The case was dismissed due to a critical lack of credible evidence," Damien said. His voice wasn't the timid, stuttering whisper they were used to. It was a low, resonant baritone, dripping with absolute indifference. "The state couldn't make the charges stick. I am a free man, Mother-in-law."

"Don't you dare call me that, you disgusting criminal!" Valerie shrieked, her face turning a mottled red. "Dismissed? Impossible! We set up everything—I mean, the police had you dead to rights! You must have broken out! Chloe, call the police right now! Get this trash out of my house before he gets his filthy germs on the carpet!"

Chloe reached for her phone, her eyes locked on her husband. "Damien, if you broke out, you need to turn yourself in. Julian’s future depends on you staying put. We promised we would take care of you after a few years. Why can't you just be cooperative for once?"

Damien walked forward. He didn't rush. He walked right past Valerie, ignoring her dramatic gasp as if she were nothing more than a piece of cheap furniture. He stopped three inches from Chloe. The sheer aura radiating from his battered frame was suffocating. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Chloe’s breath hitched. For the first time in two years, she felt an instinct of danger radiating from the man she had spent a lifetime treating like a stray dog.

"Julian's future?" Damien murmured, leaning down slightly so his shadow completely enveloped her. "And what about my life, Chloe? What about the thugs your family paid to beat me to death in Cell 4 last night?"

Chloe’s eyes widened. "What... what are you talking about? We didn't—"

"Save it," Damien cut her off. He reached out and calmly took the expensive coffee cup directly from her hand.

He took a slow, deliberate sip, then walked over to the sofa, sinking into it with an aura of a king that looked entirely natural on him despite his rags.

"Damien! Get your filthy ass off that couch!" Valerie roared, marching over, her manicured finger pointing aggressively at his face. "You are a penniless, worthless parasite! You think because you got out on some legal fluke you can come back here and act like a king? You own nothing in this house! You are nothing!"

At that moment, hurried footsteps thudded down the grand staircase. Julian Kingston, Chloe’s younger brother, the pampered, reckless golden boy of the family came rushing down, still in his pajamas.

"Mom! Chloe! I heard yelling, what’s going—" Julian stopped dead on the stairs, his face instantly draining of all color. He looked at Damien sitting on the couch, and his hands began to visibly shake. "You... you're supposed to be..."

"Supposed to be dead?" Damien finished the sentence for him, swirling the coffee in the cup.

His dark eyes locked onto Julian like a predator sizing up a weak prey. "Sorry to disappoint you, little brother. The prison floor was a bit too cold for my taste."

"Mom, call the cops! He's going to ruin me!" Julian panicked, clutching the banister.

"He claims the case was dismissed, Julian," Chloe said, her voice tight as she watched Damien’s every move. She was trying to figure out what was wrong with him. The posture, the tone, the chilling confidence. This wasn't the pathetic man she had manipulated into taking a criminal charge.

"Damien... what happened to you there?"

Damien set the coffee cup down on the glass table with a sharp clink that made all three of them flinch. He stood up, towering over the living room.

"What happened is that I woke up," Damien said, his voice echoing. He looked at Valerie, then at Chloe, and finally at Julian. "I am going to my room to clean up. Legally, my name is still on the marriage documents, which means until a court says otherwise, I live here. If any of you try to call the police, go ahead. But remember... an internal affairs investigation into why a corrupt guard let a scapegoat go might dig up things your family's bank accounts can't bury."

Valerie gasped, clutching her chest. "Are you threatening us? You trash—"