GOD OF WAR: THE SYSTEM OF VENGEANCE

"You look nervous, cousin."

Damon's hand tightened around his champagne flute as Adrian's voice slithered over his shoulder.

The crystal ballroom of the Blackwood estate glittered around them—a sea of designer gowns and thousand-dollar suits, all gathered to celebrate what should have been his moment.

"Just excited," Damon forced a smile, scanning the crowd for Claire. Where was she? The engagement announcement was supposed to happen in ten minutes.

Adrian chuckled, that same condescending laugh that had grated on Damon's nerves since childhood. "Excited to finally prove yourself worthy of the family name?"

Before Damon could respond, the orchestra fell silent. Every head turned toward the grand staircase where Claire descended like a vision in white silk.

Her diamond necklace—the one Damon had spent his last savings on—caught the chandelier light perfectly.

This was it. His redemption.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Claire's voice carried across the ballroom with practiced elegance.

"Thank you all for coming tonight. I have an announcement that will change everything."

Damon stepped forward, heart hammering. Finally, the respect he deserved. Finally, a place at the family table.

"I'm getting married," Claire continued, her smile radiant. "To the man who has captured my heart completely."

The crowd murmured with anticipation. Damon straightened his tie, preparing to join her on the stage.

"Adrian Blackwood."

The words hit like a physical blow. Damon's champagne flute slipped from his fingers, shattering against the marble floor. The sound seemed to echo in the sudden silence.

"What?" The word escaped him before he could stop it.

Claire's eyes found his across the room. Not apologetic. Not even sorry. Cold. "Adrian and I have been... close... for months now. We couldn't deny our connection any longer."

The crowd erupted in whispers. Damon felt their stares burning into him—pity mixed with cruel amusement. His chest constricted. This couldn't be happening.

"Claire, we need to talk." He pushed through the crowd, but Adrian stepped into his path.

"Actually, cousin, we need to talk." Adrian's voice carried a new authority. "About the missing funds."

The ballroom fell deadly quiet.

"What funds?" Damon's voice cracked.

His uncle Kane emerged from the crowd like a shark sensing blood.

The family patriarch's cold gray eyes fixed on Damon with lethal precision. "The two million dollars that disappeared from the family trust last month. The money that was your responsibility."

"I never touched—"

"The electronic trail leads directly to your personal accounts," Kane's voice boomed across the ballroom. "Did you think we wouldn't notice? Did you steal from your own family to pay for that ridiculous necklace?"

Every eye in the room turned to Claire's throat, where the diamonds suddenly looked garish, accusatory. Damon's mouth went dry.

"Uncle Kane, I swear on my father's grave—"

"Your father would be ashamed." Kane's words were surgical strikes. "Security!"

"Wait!" Damon spun toward Claire, desperate.

"Tell them! Tell them about the loan you asked for. About your gambling debts!"

But Claire was already nestled against Adrian's chest, playing the traumatized victim perfectly.

"I'm so sorry everyone had to see this," she whispered, loud enough for the front rows to hear. "I had no idea Damon was capable of... this."

The security guards materialized beside him—two mountains of muscle in black suits.

"Gentlemen," Kane's voice was ice. "Remove this thief from my property."

"You can't do this!" Damon struggled as they grabbed his arms. "I'm family! I'm a Blackwood!"

Kane stepped closer, his breath hot against Damon's ear. "Not anymore."

The first punch caught him in the stomach, doubling him over. The second split his lip. As they dragged him through the crowd, he caught fragments of conversation

"Always knew he was trouble..."

"Poor Claire, what a nightmare..."

"Should have seen it coming..."

The marble steps scraped against his back as they hauled him down.

Rain had started falling, mixing the blood on his face with cold water. The grand oak doors of his childhood home slammed shut behind him with finality.

Damon lay there on the wet pavement, designer suit torn, watching the warm light spill from the windows above. Inside, the party continued.

The orchestra played. People laughed and danced and celebrated his destruction.

His phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number The money's in account 847293.

Check the Cayman records. You have 24 hours before it's gone forever. Choose carefully.

He stared at the message, rain blurring the screen. Someone was playing a game. But who? And why now?

Another buzz. This time, a photo. Claire and Adrian in what looked like a hotel room, but the timestamp showed six months ago—long before tonight's supposed revelation.

His hands shook as he scrolled through more images. Bank records. Wire transfers. All bearing Kane's authorization codes.

They'd planned this. All of it.

But someone else knew their secret. Someone who wanted him to know too.

Thunder rumbled overhead as Damon struggled to his feet.

Blood dripped from his chin onto the phone screen, but his eyes were clearing. The pain was sharpening into something else.

Something dangerous.

In the distance, sirens wailed—police cars heading his direction. Kane's final move to ensure his destruction was complete.

Damon looked at the mansion one last time, then at the mysterious message still glowing on his phone.

Two paths stretched before him: run and accept his exile, or stay and fight with evidence that could destroy them all.

But using it would mean becoming the very thing they'd accused him of being.

The sirens grew louder.

Blood ran down his face as he whispered to the rain-soaked night.

"Is this the end for me?" Damon whispered to the storm.

His phone buzzed again. A single word glowed on the screen—

[Do you choose to Comply to the terms and condition?.]