Chapter 6: The Longest Day
The car pulls away from the curb smooth and silent, some high-end black SUV with tinted windows and a driver who doesn’t speak. Marcus sits in the back beside me, looking sharper than I remember. Tailored suit, hair cut short, that same cocky half grin he’s had since we were kids. “Looking good for a ghost,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder. I don’t smile back. “Let’s just get this done.” He nods, all business now. We ride in quiet for a while, city lights blurring past. I watch the familiar streets disappear behind us. The neighborhood I’ve hidden in for five years shrinking in the rearview until it’s gone. We’re headed downtown. To the Lockwood Tower. The building that used to be mine. The one Ethan’s been playing CEO in while I played dead. The plan is simple. Midnight entry through a service tunnel Marcus’s team secured. Biometrics already spoofed. Security feeds looped. By the time anyone knows I’m there, I’ll have what I need. Hard proof of the forged documents, the offshore transfers, the emails between Ethan and Vanessa that lay out every detail of the frame job. Then tomorrow morning, at the emergency shareholders’ meeting Ethan himself called to shore up his failing control, I walk in. Alive. Loaded. Ready to take it all back. One night. One last risk. Should be easy. But my mind isn’t on the tower or Ethan or even the revenge that’s kept me going all these years. It’s on Bella. On the way she felt curled against me hours ago. The soft sound she made in her sleep when I kissed her forehead. The note I left that probably feels like a gut punch right now. Trust me. Wait. I stare out the window, jaw tight. Marcus notices. “You tell her yet?” “No.” He exhales slow. “You sure about bringing her into this? Once you step back into the light, everything changes. Paparazzi. Boardroom wars. Vanessa crawling out of whatever hole she’s in. It’s gonna be ugly.” “I know.” “And she’s… what? A nurse? From a regular family? You really think she’s ready for that world?” I turn to him then, voice low. “She’s the only thing that kept me human these five years. The only thing worth any of this. So yeah. I’m sure.” He holds my stare for a second, then nods. “Alright. Just checking.” The rest of the ride is quiet. We reach the tower just after one a.m. The building looms dark against the sky, all glass and steel and cold power. My name is still etched in the lobby floor, buried under five years of dust and lies. Marcus’s team meets us at the service entrance. Three guys in black, no names, no small talk. We move fast. Down a maintenance corridor, up a freight elevator that opens straight into the executive floor. My old office is locked, but the keycard Marcus hands me works like it never stopped. The door swings open. Everything’s different and exactly the same. New desk. New art on the walls. But the view, the city sprawling out below, is still mine. I go straight to the hidden safe behind the bookshelf. The combination hasn’t changed. Ethan’s too arrogant to think anyone would ever come looking. Inside: a slim drive. Exactly where my source said it would be. I plug it into the laptop Marcus sets up. Files load. Emails. Bank records. Audio clips. A video of Vanessa laughing with Ethan the night before the “fraud” went public, talking about how easy it was to fool me. Proof. All of it. I copy everything to an encrypted drive, wipe my traces, and close the safe. Thirty minutes in and out. Clean. Marcus checks his watch. “We’re ahead of schedule. Want to swing by Ethan’s office? Leave him a little welcome gift?” I shake my head. “Tomorrow’s soon enough.” We’re back in the SUV by two thirty, heading to the safe house Marcus set up on the outskirts. A nondescript condo, fully stocked, no paper trail. I shower off the night, change into fresh clothes he left for me. Suit, crisp shirt, shoes that actually fit right. I look in the mirror and almost don’t recognize myself. No more worn jeans and tired eyes. The man staring back looks like the one who used to run empires. But I feel different. Heavier. Because now it’s real. Tomorrow I walk into that boardroom and blow Ethan’s world apart. The media storm will hit by noon. My name will be everywhere again. For the first time in five years, I’ll be visible. And Bella will see it all. I sit on the edge of the bed in the spare room, phone in hand, the real one, not the burner. I stare at her contact for a long time. I could call. Explain. Tell her I’m safe, that it’s happening, that I’ll be back for her by evening. But I don’t. Because if I hear her voice right now, hurt, confused, maybe angry, I’m not sure I could go through with tomorrow. So I power it off instead. I lie back and stare at the ceiling. This one doesn’t have cracks. Sleep doesn’t come. I watch the hours tick by. Four a.m. Five. Six. Sun starts to rise, painting the sky gold over the city. I get up, make coffee, pace the floor. Marcus leaves me alone. He knows. By eight, I’m in a fresh suit, hair cut short by the barber he brought in, face shaved clean. I look like Damian Lockwood again. The real one. At nine, the car takes me back downtown. The tower gleams in the morning light. I step out onto the curb, adjust my cufflinks, and walk through the front doors like I never left. Security freezes when they see me. Whispers start immediately. I don’t stop. Straight to the executive elevator. Up to the top floor. The boardroom doors are closed, but I can hear voices inside. Ethan’s loud and confident, trying to rally the last of his allies. I pause outside, hand on the handle. This is it. Everything I’ve waited for. Revenge. Power. Freedom. And her. I take a breath. Then I push the doors open. The room goes dead silent. Ethan turns, face draining of color. I meet his eyes and smile, cold, slow, final. “Hello, brother.” Tomorrow starts now.Latest Chapter
chapter 13
13: Blood on the RooftopThe helicopter blades tear the night apart as we rise above the city, Marcus at the controls, two of his best men strapped in beside me. Bella sits across from me, white-knuckled on the seat, bulletproof vest swallowing her frame. She wouldn’t stay behind. I didn’t waste time arguing.Fifty-eight minutes to deadline.We land on the Lockwood Tower helipad hard enough to rattle teeth. The same rooftop where Ethan and I used to smoke cigars and plan world domination when we were kids.Now it’s a killing ground.Wind whips across the concrete. Floodlights are off. Only the red aircraft warning lights pulse every few seconds.I step out first, pistol in one hand, the other reaching back for Bella. She takes it without hesitation.Marcus and his team fan out, suppressed rifles up, moving like ghosts.Then the lights snap on.Blinding white floods the entire roof.Ethan stands dead center, thirty yards away.He’s thinner than I remember, prison pallor, but the smirk
chapter 12
Chapter 12: The PackageThe message sits on my phone screen like a live grenade.She’s very pretty.It would be terrible if something happened to her.The photo is crystal-clear: Bella asleep on my chest, my arm locked around her, the penthouse terrace lights soft in the background. Taken less than ten minutes ago. Someone was close enough to zoom in through the glass.My blood turns to ice.I’m out of bed in a heartbeat, careful not to wake her. I pull on jeans and a black hoodie, grab the pistol from the nightstand safe, and move silently to the windows. Forty-eight floors up. No balcony access from below. No adjacent buildings tall enough. The only way that shot was possible is a drone. High-end. Military-grade lens.I kill every light in the penthouse with the master switch by the door. The whole place drops into darkness except for the city glow.Bella stirs behind me. “Damian?”“Stay in bed,” I say, voice low but sharp. “Don’t turn on any lights.”I hear her sit up. “What’s happ
chapter 11
Chapter 11: The First CrackThe elevator ride back to the penthouse was silent except for the soft hum of machinery. Bella’s hand stayed in mine, our fingers laced tight, as if she was afraid I’d vanish if she let go. I kept stealing glances at her. My shirt swallowed her frame, her legs were bare, and her hair was messy from my hands. She looked like she belonged to me.Because she did.The doors slid open and we stepped into the living room. The city sparkled forty-eight floors below, but the warmth we had an hour ago was gone. Vanessa’s poison was already seeping in.Bella finally spoke, her voice small. "She’s not going to stop, is she?""No," I answered honestly. "She’s never known when to quit. And right now, she’s desperate."She walked to the windows, wrapping her arms around herself. "The things people are already saying online… gold digger, mistress, charity case. They don’t even know my name, and they hate me."I crossed the room in four strides and pulled her back against
chapter 10
Chapter 10: The Ex Who Refused to Stay BuriedThe next morning hits like a bomb.I wake up with Bella draped across my chest, her hair fanned over my shoulder, one leg hooked over mine. Sunlight pours through the windows, turning the room gold. For about ten seconds everything is perfect.Then my phone, the real one, on the nightstand, starts vibrating so hard it nearly falls off.I reach over and silence it without looking. Thirty seven missed calls. Ninety one new messages. The headlines are already screaming across every screen in the country.LOCKWOOD HEIR RISES FROM THE DEAD, TAKES EMPIRE BACK IN BLOODLESS COUPVANESSA SINCLAIR’S FIANCÉ RETURNS, AND HE’S SINGLEWHO IS THE MYSTERY WOMAN SEEN LEAVING WITH DAMIAN LOCKWOOD?That last one has a blurry paparazzi shot of me carrying Bella out of the old house yesterday. Her face is half hidden against my neck, but it’s unmistakably her.Bella stirs, blinks up at me. “What’s that noise?”“Welcome to my life now,” I mutter.She sits up, s
chapter 9
Chapter 9: The PenthouseThe elevator opens straight into the living room, and Bella’s breath catches loud enough for me to hear.Floor to ceiling windows wrap the entire penthouse. The city spreads out below us like someone spilled diamonds across black velvet. It’s dusk now, the skyline just starting to glow.She steps out slowly, barefoot on the heated marble, duffel still hanging from her shoulder like she forgot it’s there.“This… is yours?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.“Ours,” I correct.She turns in a slow circle, taking it all in. The seventy foot living room, the floating staircase, the kitchen bigger than her old house. Everything is sleek lines and warm woods, quiet luxury that doesn’t scream money, just states it like fact.I watch her face the whole time. The awe. The disbelief. The tiny flicker of fear that this might still be a dream she’s about to wake up from.I drop my keys into the bowl by the door, solid onyx, custom, and shrug out of the suit jacket.“Y
chapter 8
Chapter 8: HomecomingThe drive to the old neighborhood feels both endless and too quick.The city blurs past, skyscrapers giving way to strip malls, then to the familiar cracked sidewalks and sagging chain link fences. Every turn is muscle memory, but I’m seeing it all through new eyes now. The blacked out Maybach sticks out like a spaceship among the beat up sedans and minivans. People on porches stop and stare. A couple kids on bikes follow us for three blocks before the driver loses them.Marcus is in the front passenger seat, quiet. He knows what this means to me.We pull up in front of the house at 10:47 a.m.The lawn’s still patchy from where I mowed it four days ago. Claudia’s ancient Buick is in the driveway. Sophia’s pink Mustang is crooked across two spaces like always.I step out before the driver can open the door.The street goes still. Mrs. Alvarez next door drops her watering can. A dog starts barking somewhere down the block.I don’t knock.I just open the front door
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