RISE OF THE FALLEN HEIR

CHAPTER 6: THE BETRAYER’S WEAKNESS

Revenge feels different when it wears a tuxedo.

 You smile. You toast. You shake hands with people who’d stab you twice if given the chance — once in the back, and again in the chest just to watch you bleed.

Tonight, I was one of them.

[Mission Initialized.]

 [Collect emotional data from primary betrayer: Lena Ward. Reward: Memory Reconstruction Fragment.]

Omega’s voice echoed inside my mind, calm, precise, the voice of inevitability.

Lena Ward.The woman who stood beside me once in the lab, whispering promises that turned into poison.

 The woman who sold me out to Damien for money, power, and her seat at Zenith’s throne. Now, she was my next objective.

The Gala

The Zenith Foundation Annual Charity Gala was held inside the Grand Asterion Hotel, a temple of gold and lies. Crystal chandeliers bathed the crowd in fractured light. Laughter rang like broken glass.

I adjusted my cufflinks, straightened my bow tie, and stepped into the ballroom as Eli Grant, freelance tech consultant and market strategist.

 The alias fits me like a second skin now calm, unreadable, efficient.

[Visual scan complete. Target located: South balcony. Emotional stability: 72%.]

“Let’s make her remember me,” I whispered. Omega’s response was cold.

[Caution: Emotional triggers may compromise operational efficiency.]

“Noted,” I said, walking toward the balcony.

Lena stood alone, champagne flute in hand, her silver gown reflecting the city lights below. She looked radiant the same way she used to when she’d walk into my lab years ago, pretending she cared about science when all she wanted was the power behind it.

She sensed movement and turned. Her eyes widened before she masked it with a polite smile.

“Eli Grant, right?” she said. “I’ve heard about you. You’re quite the phantom investor lately.”

Her voice hadn’t changed soft, dangerous, layered with practiced sweetness.

“And you must be Lena Ward,” I said, letting the name linger just long enough to stir unease. “Zenith’s golden strategist.”

 “You know me?”

“Only by reputation,” I said. “The kind of woman who turns numbers into miracles.” She laughed lightly, though her eyes searched my face as if trying to place me. 

[Emotional data recording: Initiated.]

 [Detected emotional pattern: Mild anxiety, unresolved familiarity.]

Omega’s analysis streamed across my mind, but I focused on the woman in front of me.

 Every word, every gesture is a piece of the puzzle I was rebuilding.

The orchestra’s music swelled. I offered my hand. “Dance with me?”

Lena hesitated, then smiled and placed her hand in mine. As we moved across the floor, her pulse quickened. I could feel it beneath her skin.

“So, tell me,” she said, where does a man like you come from? You move like someone who’s done this before.

“I’ve lived many lives,” I said, my lips near her ear. “Sometimes you have to die to find the right one.”

 Just for a second.

She pulled back slightly, her eyes narrowing. “What did you say?”

I smiled faintly. “Just a metaphor.”

But her eyes dilate a recognition she couldn’t explain.

[Emotional spike: Fear. Subconscious memory activation detected.]

Omega’s voice sharpened.

[Warning: Host presence may trigger identity link. Maintain distance.]

Lena looked at me as if staring through me, like she was peeling back the disguise layer by layer. “You remind me of someone I used to know…”

I leaned closer. “Do I?”

 “He died.”

I met her gaze, maybe ghosts don’t stay buried forever.”

For a moment, the world went still the music, the crowd, everything fading into silence. Then she laughed, shaking it off.

“You’re a strange man, Mr. Grant.”

“You have no idea,” I murmured.

Later, I found her near the private elevator. Perfect timing.

“Leaving already?” I asked.

She glanced back. “I have to check on a few reports. Zenith’s finance department never sleeps.”

“Mind if I walk you?”

 “Suit yourself.”

Inside the elevator, she entered her access code a simple numeric sequence, hidden behind biometric verification. I memorized the pattern instantly. Omega captured the retinal data and pulse signature through microreflection scans.

[Access code replicated: 9-1-0-3-7-5.]

 [Authorization key for Zenith internal servers acquired.]

I smiled faintly as we stepped into the quiet corridor.

“You know,” Lena said, glancing sideways at me, “I can’t shake the feeling I’ve met you before.”

“Maybe in another life,” I said.

She chuckled softly. “If I did, I hope I was kinder to you there.”

 “You weren’t.” Her smile froze, confusion flashing across her face.

“What did you—”

Before she could finish, her communicator buzzed. She frowned, glancing down. “Damien’s looking for me. Excuse me.”

And just like that, she was gone.

[Mission update: Emotional data 92% complete. Access credentials secured.]

 [Proceed to data extraction protocol.]

Back in my apartment, Omega’s holographic interface illuminated the room in blue light. I input Lena’s access codes, sliding through Zenith’s firewalls like a ghost in their system.

[Infiltrating restricted servers tracing black fund trails decrypting hidden ledgers.]

The numbers unfolded massive offshore transfers, coded bribes, evidence of corruption so deep it could bury Damien for life.

[Extraction complete. Funds relocated to secure cache.]

 [Host credit account balance: +₿12.6 million equivalent.]

I stared at the screen. The same empire that destroyed me is now bleeding under my fingertips.

I should have felt triumph. Instead, I felt something else a hollow ache that pulsed beneath my chest.

Lena’s voice still echoed in my head. Maybe I was kinder to you there.

I shook it off. “Omega. Upload the files anonymously to the federal anti-fraud system.”

[Confirmed.]

 [Reward unlocked: Memory Reconstruction Fragment.]

The room dimmed as the data feed shifted. A flicker of light pulsed through the neural interface. Suddenly, my mind wasn’t my own. I was standing in a dark corridor. Voices whispered around me were blurred, mechanical, inhuman.

“System prototype successful.”

 “Memory integration is stable.”

 “We’ll deploy it to the chosen host — initiate Omega Protocol.”

Then, a voice low, sharp, unmistakably human cut through the static.

“If this works, he’ll never know I was the first.”

The lights flickered. A silhouette leaned over a console.

 A hand typed commands into a terminal the same System interface I used.

[Omega… Version One Online.]

My pulse thundered. “That voice…” I whispered. “That wasn’t mine.”

[Memory Reconstruction Incomplete.]

“Replay it!” I shouted.

[Denied. Fragment access restricted until further synchronization.]

The vision snapped and I was back in my apartment, sweat beading down my neck, my breathing ragged.Someone else had used Omega before me.

 Someone who’d designed this System not as a gift but as a trap.And their voices

 It sounded hauntingly familiar.

[New Mission Generated.]

 [Trace origin of Voice Identifier: Unknown Operator.]

 [Warning: Memory instability detected.]

I stared at the flickering hologram, realising cutting deep.“What are you hiding from me, Omega?”

[Access Denied.]

The lights in the room dimmed again, and the silence that followed, I heard it a faint echo, like a distorted whisper through the neural link:

“Welcome back… Ethan.”

The words weren’t Omega’s.

 They came from someo

ne else inside the System. And that’s when I realized I wasn’t the only one connected to it.