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Rise of the forgotten general
Rise of the forgotten general
Author: Bobby
The disgrace of cole brady
Author: Bobby
last update2025-09-07 05:26:41

The banquet hall glittered with chandeliers, each crystal reflecting a brilliance that mocked Cole Brady’s existence. Laughter and applause echoed across the grand room, but none of it belonged to him. He stood at the edge of the crowd, a glass of water in his hand, as if he were nothing more than a servant instead of the man who had once been promised a future.

“Cole, don’t just stand there like an idiot,” Fiona, his wife, hissed under her breath. Her gown shimmered with gold embroidery, making her look like the perfect daughter of the wealthy Parker family. She glanced at him with eyes colder than ice. “At least pretend to be useful. People are watching.”

Cole forced a small nod. He was used to this. Three years of marriage had taught him exactly what role he played in this family: not a husband, not a partner, but a discarded burden they could mock whenever they pleased.

Across the hall, a tall man in a designer suit raised his glass. Blake Morgan the city’s golden boy, heir to the Morgan Group was delivering a speech that had the entire room captivated. His words flowed like honey, his smile dazzling. Even Fiona’s eyes softened as she looked at him, a look Cole had never once received.

“Congratulations to Fiona and her family for hosting such a remarkable evening,” Blake said, raising his glass in a toast. “And to think, this is only the beginning. With our partnership, the Parkers will rise even higher.”

The crowd erupted in cheers. Fiona’s father, Henry Parker, beamed with pride. His wife dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, overcome with emotion. And Cole, he stood there like a ghost, invisible in a hall full of people.

Blake’s eyes slid toward him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Of course,” he added, his voice laced with mockery, “every great family has its… eccentric members. Fiona, I must admire your patience.”

The crowd laughed. All eyes turned to Cole, some filled with disdain, others with pity. His knuckles tightened around the glass, but he said nothing. Years of humiliation had taught him that silence was his only shield.

Fiona leaned closer, her whisper sharp as a blade. “Don’t you dare embarrass me. If you care about me at all, just keep your mouth shut.”

Care about her? Cole swallowed the bitter laugh that rose in his throat. Once, he had. Once, he had believed that love could overcome status, that devotion could erase the sneers of her family. But three years of mockery had drained those illusions away.

Dinner was served. The guests gathered around tables covered in silk cloth and golden cutlery. Cole was left standing, no seat reserved for him. He might as well have been part of the staff.

As he stood there, ignored, the memories he kept buried threatened to surface. A different life. A different name. Blood, fire, and the roar of soldiers chanting under his command. He had once been someone. He had once carried a legacy greater than any of these men could imagine.

But that life was gone,or so they all believed.

“Cole,” Henry Parker’s voice cut through his thoughts. The elder’s face twisted with disgust as he gestured toward the door. “Go fetch more wine. The Morgan family deserves the best, not the cheap bottles you brought last time.”

Laughter followed. Cole set his glass down and nodded, as though he were the obedient dog they believed him to be.

On his way out, he caught Blake whispering something to Fiona. She laughed softly, a laugh she had never given him. It struck deeper than any insult.

The cold night air greeted him as he stepped outside. He clenched his fists, breathing deeply to calm the storm raging inside. He could endure the humiliation. He had endured worse. But every man has his limit.

As he walked toward the storage room to collect the wine, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He almost ignored it, no one ever called him but curiosity won.

The number was unfamiliar. He answered.

A deep voice crackled through the line, steady and commanding. “Cole Brady.”

His heart skipped. Few people in this city even remembered his full name. “Who is this?”

There was a pause, heavy with meaning. Then the voice replied, “The time has come. You’ve hidden long enough. Your enemies are moving, and if you don’t rise now, everything you once fought for will be lost forever.”

Cole froze. The words struck like thunder. For years he had buried his past, lived as a shadow. He thought no one knew. But this voice, this stranger had found him.

Before he could respond, the line went dead.

He stood there, gripping the phone, his chest heaving with emotions he had locked away for too long. The humiliation, the betrayal, the endless scorn, it was nothing compared to what he had once endured. And perhaps… nothing compared to what was coming.

Back inside the hall, the laughter continued. Blake raised his glass again, Fiona’s hand resting lightly on his arm as though she belonged there. Cole walked back in carrying the wine like a servant, but his mind was no longer clouded with despair.

Something inside him had awakened.

And when it awakens fully, the Parkers, the Morgans, and everyone else who mocked him would remember the name they had tried so hard to bury.

Cole Brady.

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  • Red letter day

    Cole’s hands shook as Fiona told him the news. The words themselves seemed to hang in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating.“Cole… it’s… it’s my mother,” Fiona whispered, her voice breaking, “Uzumaki… he… he killed her.”Cole’s chest tightened so hard he felt as if someone had wrapped iron chains around his ribs. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms.“No… no, this can’t be happening,” he muttered, voice low, shaking with rage. “He… he’s gone too far. Fiona, he’s crossed every line.”Fiona’s eyes were wet, her body trembling as she leaned against him.“I tried to be careful… I thought I could… I thought I could handle him,” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. “I didn’t think he’d… I didn’t think he would… kill her.”Cole held her tightly, his lips pressed against her hair. He felt a cold, bitter rage churning inside him, a storm he hadn’t known he could carry.“We’ll make him pay, Fiona. I swear… he will never hurt anyone else you love. Not your gran

  • The red dress

    The night air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and perfume as Fiona stood in front of the mirror. Her reflection looked like someone she didn’t recognize anymore, flawless makeup, red lips, and that scarlet gown that fit her like fire itself. But her eyes… they were hollow.She heard her mother’s voice from behind, soft yet firm.“Fiona, listen to me carefully.”Fiona turned, her hands trembling as she fixed an earring.“If you’re really going to meet him again,” her mother continued, holding up the small wire device, “you need to protect yourself. Record everything. If something happens… if he threatens you again… this could save your life. Or at least give Cole something to work with.”Fiona hesitated. “Mom, what if he finds out?”“Then pray he doesn’t,” her mother said quietly, her eyes filled with fear and strength at once. “But you can’t keep letting him control you like this. You’re not his puppet, Fiona. You’re my daughter and I raised you to fight when cornered.”A tear r

  • The confession

    The rain had begun again, a slow, whispering drizzle that turned the city lights into rivers of gold and red. Cole’s car rolled to a stop in front of the fiona family mansion, its headlights cutting through the fog like twin blades. He sat there for a while, staring at the gates, his jaw tight, the steering wheel slick beneath his hands.The mission had failed. Mendes was gone. Trojan had vanished to lick his wounds. Blake was half-drunk somewhere, muttering about ghosts and burned ledgers.Everything Cole had built for months, gone in smoke and blood.And the only face that came to mind, the only one that could make the world feel human again was Fiona’s.He stepped out of the car and walked through the drizzle, his coat soaking through almost instantly. The guards at the gate recognized him and opened the iron bars without question. As he walked up the marble steps to the entrance, he could already feel that something was wrong.The mansion wasn’t quiet in the comforting way of peac

  • One step ahead

    They had been so sure.Months of graft, the fragile alliance, Trojan’s blackout window, Blake’s false manifests, Mendes’ contacts on Pier 3, every hair on the back of Cole’s neck told him it was the one moment they could unmask Uzumaki. He thought he’d felt the shape of victory in his hands.Instead, the night turned into a test that chewed and spat them out.Cole was standing in the market square, camera lights warming the air, when the first signal came: Trojan’s text, WINDOW OPEN. He felt the old fight-light ignite inside his chest. He was the beacon. He was to be the noise.Across the river, Blake’s men moved with the precision of trained work crews, pushing a container toward the marked berth. Mendes, riding a courier bike, had slipped through back alleys and was supposed to be the ghost that nudged the right handler at exactly the right moment. Everything had been synchronized down to breaths.Then the city screamed.A blast reverberated from the pier not the quiet, clinical con

  • The shape of the trap

    The city had become a chessboard of lights and shadows, and Cole felt every square press under his boots. The alliance with Trojan and Blake sat in his stomach like a bitter thing, necessary, pragmatic, and utterly filthy. He had swallowed worse when lives were at stake, but this one tasted like ash. Still, Mendes’s survival had given him a thread. He would not let that thread be cut.They moved fast after the café meeting, as if speed could turn momentum into safety. Trojan’s people started with network work: jamming Uzumaki’s satellite comms for short windows, seeding false manifests into shipping lanes, and quietly leaking minor rumors to unsettle Uzumaki’s lieutenants. Blake worked the money, realigning taps that could buy a convoy’s silence or fund a dozen operatives. Mendes, out of bed and pale with bandages but sharper than his bruised body suggested, fed them the last of his contacts: a courier named Alek with Pier 3 access, a handler who’d moved A.K.’s paperwork months back.

  • Moving on

    The city was cold that evening, one of those autumn nights when the fog sat heavy on the streets and the wind carried a faint metallic bite. Cole Brady sat in the back booth of an old café, his mind still replaying the gunshot that almost ended John Mendes’s life weeks ago.Mendes, though stable now, still carried a stiffness in his voice, the kind that came from staring death in the face and surviving. The two men were waiting. The message had been short, cautious, and unsigned but Cole knew exactly who had sent it.Trojan.He hadn’t heard that name in a long time. And for good reason.Trojan and Cole had history, ugly, tangled history that went back years. Once allies, then rivals, now something worse: two men who had the same goal but couldn’t stand the sight of each other.Still, Cole had agreed to meet. Because Uzumaki was no longer just a name whispered in backrooms. He was a storm growing stronger by the day, his influence spreading like wildfire through the underworld, reachin

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