2025-06-16 15:06:15Excel didn’t sleep.
He stared at the message all night. The glow from the phone lit his face like a ghost. He read the words over and over again until they blurred.
“Alaric will die in a plane crash tomorrow. Only you can stop it.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, jaw clenched so tight it ached. His lips were dry. His eyes burned. It didn’t make sense. How? Why? No follow-up message. No explanation. No instruction.
Just that cold, godless sentence.
He stood up and started pacing. Back and forth across the carpet. His hands ran through his hair so many times it started to tangle. The room was quiet. Too quiet. He wanted to scream just to break the silence.
"Why him?" he muttered. "Why the old bastard?"
The same man who humiliated him at dinner, who looked at his father like a stain, who made his mother eat at the kiddie table. That man was supposed to die tomorrow.
It should’ve felt like justice.
But it didn’t.
Because if Alaric died, Excel would lose the one man in this house who held real power. The only one whose approval meant anything.
"If I let him die... I gain nothing," he whispered.
He stared out the window. The night looked back.
Early that morning, Excel rang the bell beside his bed. A servant appeared, pale and blinking like he hadn’t slept either.
“I need Dr. Holloway,” Excel said, voice thin. “Now.”
Dr. Holloway arrived thirty minutes later, briefcase in hand, eyebrows furrowed like always.
“Chest pains again?” the doctor asked as he sat beside the bed.
Excel nodded, slow. “Tightness. Pressure. Weird dreams.”
Holloway hummed, pulling out the stethoscope. “Stress. Not unusual after an episode like yours. Do you remember the blackout?”
Excel winced for show. “Bits. Who else was sick recently?”
The doctor paused. “No one.”
“What about travel? Planes. The family jet?”
Holloway blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Excel smiled weakly. “Nothing. Just... paranoia, I guess.”
The doctor sighed. “You’ve always been high-strung.”
Excel held the smile. “Yeah. That’s me.”
After Holloway left, Excel pulled out the phone again. Typed one name into the hidden browser: Zenshin Aero.
He remembered it. From his old life. Titan Logistics partnered with them on a shady cross-border contract — low-level parts with a high failure rate. And they’d recently been hired to service the Winchesters' private planes.
He checked the pilot roster for Flight MZ-047.
Captain Reggie Doran.
One incident on record — collision on runway, charges cleared, but Excel remembered: Doran had ties to Zenshin’s testing arm. The pieces clicked too fast.
It wasn’t an accident waiting to happen.
It was a setup.
By 9:45 AM, Excel stood outside Alaric’s study.
The guards didn’t move.
“I need to see him,” Excel said.
One of them laughed. “He’s busy. Come back with an appointment.”
Excel didn’t blink. “If I leave, you’re gonna be at his funeral in twenty-four hours.”
The smile disappeared. The other guard knocked once, opened the door.
Alaric sat inside, flipping through a newspaper like the world moved at his pace. He didn’t look up.
“Enter.”
Excel stepped in. His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his pants.
Alaric finally glanced over his paper. “You again.”
“You can’t get on that plane,” Excel said.
No buildup. No small talk.
Alaric lowered the paper.
“Excuse me?”
“You can’t fly out today,” Excel repeated. “The jet. It’s not safe.”
Alaric stared. Hard.
“You barged in here to insult my engineers?”
“I’m not joking,” Excel said. “There’s something wrong with the jet. The company that serviced it—Zenshin Aero—they’ve cut corners before. They covered up test failures. I know it. If you take off today, the plane will crash.”
Alaric stood slowly, walked over to his liquor cabinet, poured himself a drink.
Excel’s breath caught.
“You were always an anxious child,” Alaric said finally. “Always predicting disasters.”
“This isn’t anxiety.”
“And now you speak with such fire.” Alaric turned. “What changed?”
Excel swallowed.
“I’m not asking you to believe me,” he said. “I’m asking you to survive.”
Silence.
Then: “And if I cancel and nothing happens?”
“Then punish me.”
Alaric raised an eyebrow. “Punish you?”
“Yes. Lock me up. Humiliate me again at dinner. I’ll take it. But I won’t let you die.”
Alaric walked past him.
“You may leave now,” he said.
Excel didn’t move.
Alaric looked back.
“There’s something in your eyes,” he murmured. “Something unfamiliar.”
Then he sat down and picked up his paper again.
At 1:13 PM, the plane left without him.
Excel watched the news feed on his hidden phone.
The aircraft climbed smoothly. Five minutes of clear sky.
Then static.
Then flames.
A black plume rising over the ocean.
No survivors.
Excel’s stomach flipped. He grabbed the edge of the desk. His lips parted but no words came out. His vision blurred for half a second. He sank into the chair behind him.
He had done it.
He had stopped death.
And no one would ever know.
Dinner that night was quieter than usual.
No wine. No second courses. People whispered in between bites.
Alaric walked in last.
Everyone looked at him like he’d returned from the grave.
He sat at the head of the table. Poured his own drink. Took a long sip.
“Sebastian,” he said, suddenly. “Stand up.”
Sebastian did.
“Switch seats.”
The boy blinked. “What?”
Alaric pointed. “Move.”
Sebastian moved.
Excel stood behind the side table again, silent.
Alaric pointed at the empty chair. Right at his side.
“Come.”
Excel hesitated. His feet felt frozen.
He walked.
Each step sounded louder than the last.
When he sat, Alaric didn’t look at him.
He just said, “He warned me. He saved me. He’s earned his seat.”
The table was silent.
Until Steve muttered, “From paperweight to prophet, huh?”
Alaric didn’t smile.
Excel didn’t either.
But inside, something settled.
Like the first stone laid on the foundation of a castle.
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
You may also like
Rise Of The Sole Heir
Estypen76.8K viewsTrillionaire Ex husband's Revenge
Jericho Chase84.4K viewsThe Useless Son In Law
Blue white87.6K viewsThe Almighty Dominance
Sunshine418.3K viewsTHE RISE OF JAKE MILLER
Quin Ari55 viewsThe CEO'S syndrome
Tonyemiriam 5.2K viewsThe Unconquerable son-in-law
Deliaha Shine41.9K viewsThe Tycoon Heir
Ruthy Ideas2.3K views