The Nameless Man With A Thousand Legacies

001 The Prince That Was Promised

Jack Hardy lounged in a street corner cafe with his thumb swiping lazily across his phone.

He stopped at a global news headline. "The Jaguar Cartel Wiped Out Overnight. No Survivors."

In a fortified compound deep in South America, every man in the world's deadliest cartel had been found dead. Nine hundred and six of them.

The article called it the most baffling massacre in modern criminal history, one that could only have been carried out by a platoon-sized military force.

An empire had fallen, and nobody had claimed it. Analysts pointed instead to the underworld's mysterious god of war, the Dark Prince.

Two men at the next table had the same headline open between them.

"They say the Dark Prince doesn't exist. Tell that to the cartels and terrorist groups he has wiped out in the last five years."

Jack frowned. He locked the screen and set it face down on the table.

He had walked away from the underworld a month ago, right after he killed every man in the Jaguar Cartel for ambushing his people during peace talks.

Since then, Jack had vanished off the grid and blended into civilian life.

A waitress brought his coffee. She was about twenty, with auburn hair in a loose ponytail, and she gave him a flirty smile.

"Black coffee, no sugar," she said. "I hope it's to your liking."

Jack glanced up and nodded. "Thanks."

She didn't leave. She tilted her head so a strand of hair fell across her blushing cheek. "Do you come here often? A guy like you shouldn't have to drink coffee by himself."

He responded with a polite half-smile. "Don't mind me. I like the quiet."

Rich men walk into this cafe every day and leave their numbers under their cups. This one has not looked at me twice.

Her smile slipped. "I get off work at four every day…"

She let the offer hang, then walked away with her hips swaying a little more than before.

Jack's phone buzzed on the table. That was strange, because it was a burner he'd bought eleven hours ago.

He groaned quietly, accepted the call, and put it to his ear. "Hi, Dad."

Victor Cromwell was his father, Marshal Commander of the Springfield Military Alliance, the most powerful private army on the planet.

"Don't DAD me!" Victor boomed. "Do you have any idea how long we've been looking for you?"

"I'm done fighting wars," Jack said. "They never end."

"Done with them?" Victor's voice sharpened. "Have you forgotten you're the sole heir to Springfield? Armies that dwarf every nation on Earth await your command."

"And you wiped out the Jaguar Cartel by yourself," he added. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"I'm tired of counting the dead, Dad. Nine of my best men walked into those peace talks unarmed because I told them to, and died for it. I'm out."

Victor had no answer to that. He cursed, then went quiet, and a moment later a softer voice took the line.

"Jack? Sweetheart? You know the Cromwell family defends the world against evil, and you're its next leader. Please come back."

It was his mother, Ashley Cromwell, the one person in the world he truly cared about. He hadn't heard her voice in a month.

But he needed a fast, clean exit, or his parents would hound him until he returned to Springfield.

"Do you remember what you promised me, Mom?" he said quietly.

"What promise?" Ashley asked, sounding guarded.

"You said if I ever settled down and got married, you'd let me leave Springfield. Well, I'm waiting for my date right now, and she'll be here any minute. I'm going to marry this woman."

"Really? Are you serious?" Ashley cried out.

Jack had never let a woman past his shell, no matter how beautiful or perfect she was, and his mother knew it. This was groundbreaking news.

Victor grabbed the phone back. "You're getting married? To whom? When did this happen—"

"I've gotta go," Jack cut in. "I'll invite you to the wedding. Love you both."

He hung up before either of them could get another word in. He kept his hand on the phone a little longer than he needed to.

Jack hadn't lied to his parents. He really wanted a wife and to forget about his bottomless inheritance and violent past.

He took a sip of his coffee and opened the dating app.

His perfect match was Clara Ford, a simple, pretty brunette with dimples and warm eyes. She was exactly the kind of partner a man settled down with to start a family.

The cafe door chimed. A young woman walked in, and every head in the room turned.

She was tall, elegant and poised, with long dark hair falling in perfect waves over an expensive cream coat. Everything about her said money and glamor.

A man at the window table set his cup down and forgot to pick it up again.

Twelve men in identical black suits filed in behind her. They wore earpieces, and their eyes swept the room like Secret Service agents as they fanned out to the exits and windows.

Jack was the only person in the room who had not looked up.

The young woman swept her gaze over the tables without interest until her eyes landed on him. She walked straight toward him and stopped at his table.

"Are you Jack Hardy?" She said it like an accusation.

Jack looked up slowly and raised an eyebrow. There was no way this woman was his date, Clara Ford.

She was beautiful in an overwhelming way. High cheekbones, full lips, hazel-green eyes, and a body that could put international supermodels out of work.

For a second, Jack couldn't look away. Then he checked the app again and looked back at her.

"You aren't Clara, are you?"

"No. Obviously not," she said haughtily, and Jack breathed out in relief.

Beautiful or not, I can never marry someone this rude and bossy.

"The Clara Ford account on the dating app was fake," she added. "I don't put my real name or my real face on public apps."

Jack leaned back, surprised. "So, who are you, really?"

She met his eyes without blinking. "Show some respect. I'm Juliet Forbes, heiress to the Forbes empire. And I'm your blind date."