RULE NUMBER ONE: DON'T MESS WITH MR. BURGESS

CHAPTER 3

Twelve Months Ago

The air inside the top-floor penthouse of Darrow Tower was filled with the scent of fresh roses. 

A massive floor-to-ceiling glass window overlooked the glittering city skyline.

Slayde Burgess stood near the edge of the glass, hands resting casually inside the pockets of his black trousers.

A rare warmth softened his eyes as he looked out over the city. 

Tonight, he was happy.

For seven years, he had lived as an ordinary man, hiding his past as the world's most feared underground titan. 

He had given it all up for a quiet, simple life with Harlyn Darrow, his wife. 

When he first met her, she was drowning in corporate debt, her dreams slipping away. 

Slayde had stepped in. 

Without ever revealing his true identity, he had pulled a single thread in his massive shadow network, making a few anonymous calls, shifting offshore funds to give her company an unshakeable foundation.

With just a tiny fraction of his power, Harlyn’s empire had skyrocketed. 

And tomorrow, it was finally going to be public.

Slayde smiled, his fingers brushing against the plain, sterling silver 6mm band on his right middle finger. 

He had made a decision. 

Tonight, once the chaotic gala was over and the company was officially secured on the global market, he was going to tell her everything.

He was going to sit her down, show her the unhackable shadow network linked to his ring, and share his true identity. 

She deserved to know that she would never have to worry about cutthroat elites again; her husband owned the very ground they walked on.

He took a slow sip from the champagne flute in his hand, letting the crisp liquid settle. He was relaxed.

Then, a heavy, unnatural dizziness hit him.

Slayde’s vision blurred.

His chest tightened, and his heart rate spiked before drastically plummeting. His instincts immediately screamed in alarm… paralytic neurotoxin. 

His hand trembled. 

The glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the marble floor. 

He tried to take a step, but his legs felt like lead, his muscles completely refusing to cooperate. He was drugged. 

In his own home.

"You look a little unsteady, darling."

A cold, mocking voice cut through his fading consciousness.

Harlyn Darrow walked into his line of sight, the train of her emerald-green silk gown brushing against the shattered glass. 

She looked breathtakingly beautiful, but her face was entirely devoid of the warmth Slayde loved. 

Beside her stepped Dominic Vokal, the smug, old-money tech tycoon, a triumphant sneer glued to his face.

Slayde tried to raise his fists, his black-ops reflexes fighting desperately against the chemical binding his nervous system, but his body wouldn't budge. 

He collapsed heavily onto one knee, gasping for air, forced to look up at them.

"Don't waste your energy, Slayde," Harlyn sneered, looking down her nose with absolute disgust. "It’s a specialized neurotoxin. Even a beast couldn't stand under its own weight. Did you really think a boring, useless nobody like you belonged in my world?"

She stepped closer, the hem of her emerald gown brushing his trembling hand.

"For seven years, I dragged your dead weight while I built this empire from nothing. You just sat back, playing the quiet, pathetic little house-husband, leeching off my success. Marrying you was the ultimate charity case, but your free ride is over."

She leaned down, a cold, mocking laugh escaping her lips.

"Tomorrow, my company goes public, and I'm not letting a parasite ruin my debut into the global elite. Dominic and the Feds will ensure you rot in a cell. Consider the prison sentence as the final payment for seven years of free rent. Your sole purpose now is to take the fall for the financial fraud and corporate espionage we've pinned on your personal terminal."

Before Slayde could force his vocal cords to work, the penthouse doors burst open.

A dozen federal agents in tactical gear flooded the room, weapons raised. 

Completely oblivious to the fact that Slayde was paralyzed, they threw him brutally to the floor, slamming heavy steel cuffs onto his wrists.

Dominic let out a loud, mocking guffaw, kicking a piece of shattered glass toward Slayde’s face. 

The sharp edge cut into his skin, and blood began to seep out.

"Take the trash away," Dominic barked. "Let him rot in a security cell forever."

The moment guests began arriving at the open door, Harlyn’s expression transformed. 

The cold, venomous sneer vanished, replaced in a heartbeat by a mask of sheer horror and devastating heartbreak.

She dropped to her knees, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders began to shake. 

Loud, pathetic sobs echoed through the penthouse.

"How could you do this to me, Slayde?" Harlyn wailed, her voice cracking perfectly as tears streamed down her face. "I trusted you! I loved you! I built this company from nothing for our future, and all this time, you were stealing from me? You were selling our corporate secrets to our rivals? Not only my company, but you dared steal from several others, too?!"

The surrounding high-society guests gasped, murmuring in utter disgust. 

The entire room instantly filled with profound pity for the beautiful, betrayed CEO.

The federal agent holding Slayde down tightened his grip brutally, shoving Slayde's face harder into the cold marble. 

He looked up at Harlyn with deep sympathy before glaring down at Slayde.

"Don't worry, Ms. Darrow. We will ensure this piece of garbage gets the most horrible treatment possible behind bars. A lowlife like him doesn't deserve a single second of your affection."

Slayde lay there, his body paralyzed, unable to even blink away the blood dripping down his cheek. 

His mind was in disbelief. 

This was the woman he had spent seven years protecting. 

This was the woman he had quietly handed a multi-billion-dollar empire, the woman he was about to trust with his deepest secrets tonight.

And it was all a calculated lie.

Harlyn slowly rose to her feet, wiping her tears with a delicate lace handkerchief. 

She looked down at Slayde's immobile body, her voice trembling for the audience around them.

"I want a divorce. I will have my lawyers draft the papers and send them directly to your prison cell. I never want to see your face again."

"Get him up! Move it!" the agent barked.

The agents hauled Slayde’s heavy, unresponsive body off the floor and began dragging him roughly toward the elevator. 

Slayde’s head rolled back loosely under the chemical paralysis, his eyes straining to keep focus on the room.

As he was dragged away, he watched Dominic Vokal step forward, smoothly wrapping a comforting arm around Harlyn's trembling shoulders. 

To the crowd, Dominic looked like a supportive peer consoling a grieving woman.

But as the elevator doors began to slide shut, blocking Slayde from his home forever, Harlyn slowly lifted her head from Dominic's chest.

The tears were gone.

Her eyes were cold. 

Looking straight through the closing gap of the doors, she locked eyes with Slayde and flashed him a wicked, triumphant smirk.

The doors closed, plunging Slayde into darkness.

For a full year, Slayde Burgess endured the freezing floors, the tainted food, and the endless rotation of inmates sent to break him. 

He let the world believe he was a ruined, forgotten man. He watched from a tiny, grainy prison television as Harlyn Darrow rebranded the company, standing hand-in-hand with Dominic Vokal on global news networks.

He didn't rage. He didn't break. He simply waited, letting their blind arrogance grow into an insurmountable mountain. But today, the twelve months were officially up.

Back in the Warden's office, Slayde’s eyes grew incredibly dark, pinning Garrick Nash with a look that made the billionaire's breath catch.

"Don’t you dare call that thing my wife," Slayde sneered, his voice dropping to a lethal, dangerous whisper. "She is underqualified."