RISE OF THE MORTE CONGLOMERATE HEIR

Chapter 3

Under the cover of a fake printer error reported by Ellvys Fog, "Ice" was dispatched to the Executive Suites on the Morte Tower's top floor. His new master keycard (from Onyx) allowed him discreetly access to the server room located beside Sable's office.

Ellvys Fog, disguised as a temporary corporate auditor, was waiting inside. "Ice", Ellvys whispered, his eyes on the server racks. "You look horrible. Sable's killing you."

"I can't remember any of this, Ellvys." Ice admitted, his voice raw. 

Ellvys shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Your hands remember. The moment you touch that keyboard, your code will write itself." Ellvys pointed to the main server tower. "Sable is about to authorize a wire transfer that will funnel the remaining liquidity out of Morte into five shell companies. If he hits 'send', the company is bankrupt. We have to shut down the router."

Ice approached the server. The sight of the blinking lights and complex wire structure triggered another painful memory, but this one was clearer: his own code, his own network topology. He ignored Ellvys's instructions to pull the power. Instead, with a confidence that felt foreign to his "Ice" persona, he connected his burner phone to a specific maintenance port. In less than thirty seconds, the phone executed a line of code: a silent, untraceable command to shut down the external transfer router. 

Ellvys watched, astonished, as the server lights went dark. "You... you still know it. The Morte Firewall."

Ice didn't answer. He simply detached the phone, slipped it into his pocket, and left the room, his mind now clearer, the "Ice" persona slowly dissolving as the "Zander" essence began to take hold. 

That night, Ice was driving Sable Morte home from a victory dinner. Sable was euphoric. 

"Two weeks, Ice." Sable slurred from the back seat, waving a tumbler of whiskey. "Two weeks, and the Morte Tower is gone. Sold. Demolished. Finally, I win. And that pathetic loser Zander Morte will be forgotten forever."

He laughed, a maniacal sound. He threw the empty glass forward. It shattered on the divider behind Ice's head. "Stop the car, Ice! Get out and clean that up. Now! Before it ruins the carpet!"

Ice pulled over. He stepped out of the car and looked at the shattered glass on the pristine floor he was ordered to clean. The amnesia had protected him from the pain of memory, but it could no longer protect him from the rage of humiliation. 

He bent down, not to clean, but to pick up a single, jagged shard of crystal. He looked at his own reflection in the sharp edge, the face of a stranger, a driver, a failure. But beneath the surface, the dormant spirit of Zander Morte was fully awake, fueled by the insults. 

He pocketed the shard. He got back in the car. He drove on, silent and dangerous. The investigation is over. The stage is set. The time for Obloquy is finished; the time for the Face-Slap is starting. 

New Monday morning, at 4, acting mom Berna and acting father Fred were preparing a small but healthy breakfast. When Ice sat between Berna and Fred, they exchanged a genuine, loving smile, remembering months ago when they found Zander after the accident and took him into their small home in Marfa, Texas.

Ice: "Mom? Dad? What?"

Fred: "Nothing, son."

Berna: "How was yesterday?"

Ice: "Very fine!"

But Zander/Ice was hit by an unexpected migraine. It felt different, harsher. He closed his eyes, rubbing both temples fiercely.

Fred: "What's happening?"

Berna: "Having a migraine?"

Both immediately embraced Ice and gently moved him onto the living room sofa. 

Berna: "Is your head always like this?"

Ice: "I don't know."

Fred: "Should I call and excuse you today at your job?"

Ice: "No, dad. I'm ok."

Zander/Ice was sweating, tapping his left temple using his left palm, a nervous, repetitive gesture. 

Fred: "Stop that!"

Berna: "Where's your phone? I'll call to your office."

Ice: "No... uhm... I'm just hungry." 

Then, as suddenly as it arrived, the migraine stopped. Zander/Ice blinked rapidly, inhaled in relief, and forced a smile. "See... I'm ok!!!"

Berna gently rubbed Zander/Ice’s back. "Are you sure, son?" 

Ice: "Yes, mom. Where's my sister? Cally." 

Fred: "She packed her breakfast and immediately go to school." 

Berna: "Shall we eat?" 

They all returned to the kitchen, sitting at their circle table. Zander/Ice forced himself to focus on his plate, but the question echoed in his mind. Damn, what's happening?! He knew his memory was a wall, but the pain was a wrecking ball. He felt a deep, instinctive fear of losing even the simple life he had with this kind, selfless family.

It is lunchtime outside one of the Morte properties, a luxury model unit for clients in Galena, Illinois. Ice is at the smoking area on the side with fewer employees. Leaning against the cool stone wall, idly scrolling through his burner phone.

River, Top Property Specialist, walked toward him. River's movements were fluid and arrogant, the perfect mask of a high-status executive. As he closed the distance, he leaned in and dropped his voice to a whisper.

Ice looked up, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

Ice: "What?"

River: "C'mon, Ice. Me, Onyx, and the~"

Ice: "What are you talking about?"

River’s eyes widened, the executive mask cracking. When they reached the side of the building with the fewest employees, River grabbed and gripped Ice's right arm, his red face a mixture of fear and frustration.

River: "Stop the joke, man. Can't you remember? Again?"

River’s voice was a desperate, panicked whisper.

Ice frowned, tilting his head in genuine confusion. "Sir River, what are you talking about?"

River’s knees suddenly felt weak. He dropped to one knee, sweating profusely, tapping his left palm on his forehead. No way, what should we do if Zander always forgets?

Ice, worried by the visible distress of the high-ranking executive, knelt too. "Sir River, really, what are you asking?"