2025-06-16 15:11:51Sebastian couldn’t sleep. His pillow was soaked. Not with tears. With sweat. Cold, sick sweat that made his shirt cling to his back and his chest feel like it was folding in on itself. He stared at the ceiling like it owed him something. Like it might explain how everything had flipped so fast.
He wasn’t just losing. He was drowning.
That night after Excel exposed him, the whole house had shifted. Doors didn’t open as fast. Conversations stopped when he walked in. Even Steve didn’t speak to him in the hallway, just nodded once like he was some mailman. One of the guards at the back gate didn’t even salute. That had never happened. Not to him.
He sat on the edge of his bed and cracked his knuckles, one by one, slow like bone was all he had left to control.
Excel.
That bastard. That ghost of a boy who couldn’t even talk right last year. The one who used to flinch when someone raised their voice. Now walking around like he owned the name. Like he was something more than a favor from Alaric's soft-hearted daughter.
He stood. His knees popped. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been still. He moved to the mirror. Looked into it. Didn't recognize the man looking back.
Then his lips twitched.
If Excel thought it was over, he was wrong.
The plan wasn’t perfect. But it didn’t have to be. It just had to feel real. Sebastian pulled strings the way rich boys pull them—through old debts and fear. He knew a supplier that once worked with Titan. A sketchy company in the docks district with just enough skeletons in the closet to dance when you asked.
He set it up so it looked like Excel had rerouted a shipment through one of their dummy subsidiaries. A company with a name close enough to something Excel recently signed on. Sloppy, fast paperwork. A forged invoice. A whisper to a board secretary who owed him.
Then he waited.
He didn’t smile much anymore. But that morning, when he walked past Excel in the hall and nodded like nothing was wrong, his lips twitched just enough to feel like victory.
It took less than a day.
News spread through the inner offices of Aetherion Dynamics like ink in water. Whispers about misappropriation. Conflicting contracts. Excel’s name at the top of one of the flagged files.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair. Looked out the window. Thought about the dinner table.
That seat would be his again soon.
Excel heard the whispers, of course. They weren’t even quiet. Assistants giggled when he passed. Two analysts froze when he stepped into the elevator. One even dropped her tablet.
But he said nothing.
Not yet.
He waited until dinner.
The room was full. Laughter, forks tapping china. Sarah sat quietly beside Michael. Steve was talking too loud again. Sebastian was already seated. In the same chair he’d been kicked from last week.
That alone was enough to make Excel blink.
He pulled out the seat beside Alaric. Sat. Smiled.
Alaric didn’t look up from his plate.
"Interesting rumors today," Elias muttered over his wine. "Excel, anything you want to share?"
Sebastian hid a smirk behind his glass.
Excel leaned back.
"Nothing much. Just thinking how busy everyone gets when they’re nervous."
"Nervous?" Elias asked. "About what?"
"About the truth."
Steve chuckled. "Kid, your name was on a contract for a blacklisted supplier. That truth?"
Excel didn’t blink.
He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a file. The same way he did the night he took Sebastian down.
But this time it was thicker.
He placed it gently on the table. Alaric finally looked up.
"What’s that?"
Excel opened it. Passed a sheet to his grandfather.
"A breakdown of every communication between Sebastian and a known third-party shell group registered under GRI Holdings. The same group tied to the false contract I supposedly signed. Date stamps. Bank traces. Even a voice recording."
Sebastian paled.
"That’s doctored."
Excel didn’t even look at him.
"That would matter if I hadn’t gotten it from the security division. Alaric's own files. I asked them to run surveillance the day after you lost your seat. Just to be safe."
Sebastian stood. Hard.
"He’s setting me up!"
"You set yourself up when you came for me," Excel said quietly.
Alaric waved a hand. The room silenced.
He looked at Sebastian.
"You forged a scandal to reclaim your seat."
Sebastian’s lip trembled. "Grandfather, I was desperate. You gave him everything. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was dead to us. He was—"
Alaric raised his voice.
"And yet he is the one who warned me about the plane crash. The one who uncovered the Vitric trail. The one who acts. You, Sebastian, scheme like a coward."
Sebastian dropped to one knee beside the table.
"Please. One mistake. One."
Alaric didn’t move.
"Excel, remove his plate."
Excel stood. Walked to the opposite end of the table. Lifted Sebastian’s plate. Carried it to the side table and placed it there.
Then he sat.
And ate.
Sebastian stayed on his knees.
No one helped him up.
Later that night, Excel stood in front of the mirror in his room.
He stared at himself. Long. Silent.
His lips were dry. His knuckles pale. He flexed his hands. Let them go.
Sarah walked in without knocking.
"You humiliated him."
"He tried to destroy me."
"He’s still your blood."
Excel met her eyes in the mirror.
"So was I. When none of them looked my way."
She didn’t respond.
She just left.
And Excel stood alone.
Smiling.
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
The Price Of A Life
The fire crackled soft, low, like it was tired of pretending it still mattered. Alaric Winchester sat in the high-backed leather chair that had probably outlived three CEOs, a glass of something old and brown resting in his hand. The flames threw gold across his skin, made the lines around his eyes look deeper than they were. Or maybe they were always that deep, and people just didn’t stare long enough to notice.Excel stood at the door.Didn’t knock.Didn’t move.Just stood there like he was balancing everything in him on the edge of that silence.Alaric didn’t look up. Just swirled the drink, slow, lazy."If you’re gonna speak," he said, "at least close the damn door first."Excel stepped in. Shut the door. The click echoed too loud. His hand stayed on the knob a second too long.He walked forward. Not fast. Not slow. Like he was walking into something that could bite."I saved your life," he said.Alaric blinked."That so?""You know it is."Alaric finally looked up.Excel wasn’t s
No Room At The Table
Sebastian couldn’t sleep. His pillow was soaked. Not with tears. With sweat. Cold, sick sweat that made his shirt cling to his back and his chest feel like it was folding in on itself. He stared at the ceiling like it owed him something. Like it might explain how everything had flipped so fast.He wasn’t just losing. He was drowning.That night after Excel exposed him, the whole house had shifted. Doors didn’t open as fast. Conversations stopped when he walked in. Even Steve didn’t speak to him in the hallway, just nodded once like he was some mailman. One of the guards at the back gate didn’t even salute. That had never happened. Not to him.He sat on the edge of his bed and cracked his knuckles, one by one, slow like bone was all he had left to control.Excel.That bastard. That ghost of a boy who couldn’t even talk right last year. The one who used to flinch when someone raised their voice. Now walking around like he owned the name. Like he was something more than a favor from Alar
Blood In Their Wine
He didn’t plan to destroy Sebastian that day. Not really. At least not in that exact hour. He only wanted to trace another thread, something tied to Victor. Something cold and undeniable. But that’s the thing about hunting shadows—sometimes you find the ones standing closest.Excel sat hunched over in the old music room, the one no one used since Anne died. It smelled like old perfume and dust and something else. Regret maybe. There were cracked picture frames stacked behind the piano. A broken wineglass in the corner. No one cleaned in here. Maybe they thought the dead were still watching.The papers were everywhere. Spread out in layers like a madman's map. He'd taken them from the archive wing, the locked cabinet Steve never checked. He thought about the elevator. The buzzes. The clue about the left hand. It had been days and it still gnawed at him. He tapped the corner of the folder against his thigh. His knee bounced. He didn’t even notice until his legs cramped.Victor Hayworth.
What Clues Had To Offer
Excel didn’t sleep that night. Not because he was afraid, not really. It was something else. Something like rage but quieter, thicker. Like oil in his blood. It moved through him in slow waves, kept him up even after the noise of the gala had died in his head. He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on knees, hands clenched like they were trying to squeeze something invisible.Victor Hayworth’s voice kept echoing in his skull. That smile, those words. "Died like a dog in a ditch."Excel’s jaw locked again. He had clenched it so long it ached now. His teeth felt like they’d fused. His fingers twitched. He could still feel the ghost of Victor's handshake. Still warm. Still smug. Still clean. So clean. Like nothing had ever bled beneath those nails. Like nothing ever touched him but silk and power and sin hidden behind legal papers.He stood up too fast and nearly tripped. His knees didn’t want to work right. The world tilted sideways and then settled. He paced. Back and forth. The carpet
Smoke, Suits And Ghosts
The suit didn’t feel like it fit. Not just the cloth, though it was tailored like armor and crisp like money. No, it was the weight of it. The smell. The clean cold feel of something that wasn’t earned by the hands wearing it. Excel adjusted the collar for the third time.“You keep doing that,” Alaric said beside him in the limo, “and you’ll look like a nervous intern.”Excel froze, then dropped his hands to his lap.“You invited me,” he said, not looking at the old man.“And I expect you not to embarrass me,” Alaric replied, sipping whiskey from a flask like it was water. “This isn’t family dinner. This is the war table.”The city outside rushed past. Glass towers like knives against the sky. Excel stared at his reflection in the tinted window. He still didn’t recognize the face looking back. But the fire inside it? That was starting to look familiar.“You’ll see everyone tonight,” Alaric continued. “CEOs, politicians, parasites in tuxedos. Eyes on you. So talk less. Watch more.”Exc
The New Target
The hall smelled like money and arrogance. The table was shorter this time, but the people around it weren’t any smaller. It was glass-topped, gold-rimmed, and surrounded by men and women who hadn’t had to ask for anything in years. Everyone wore suits like armor. The air felt expensive. Stiff. Hostile.Excel sat near the end. Not too close to Alaric, but close enough to make the others uncomfortable.Nobody said it out loud, but he felt it.They didn’t want him here.Steve Winchester tapped a pen against his folder like he owned the rhythm of the room. Sebastian slouched back, pretending to scroll his tablet, eyes darting toward Excel every few seconds. Elias whispered something to his assistant and chuckled.And Excel?He sat quietly.He didn’t speak. Not yet. He just watched. Listened. Waited.The numbers flew around — percentages, unit projections, capital shifts. They spoke fast. Over each other. Trying to out-smile, out-talk, out-shine. It wasn’t a meeting. It was a war without
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