Rise of the forgotten general

The enemy takes notice

The incident with the fruit vendor spread faster than wildfire. By evening, half the street vendors in Westbridge were whispering about the mysterious man who stood up to Blake Morgan’s bodyguard.

Some said he was a fool, someone who didn’t know how powerful the Morgans were.

Others said he moved like a soldier, sharp and precise, not the way an ordinary man fought.

And a few, the ones with sharper instincts, wondered if the city had just witnessed the birth of something dangerous.

Cole Brady didn’t linger to hear the gossip. He walked Mason back toward the quiet end of the district, his thoughts heavy.

“You’ve painted a target on your back,” Mason said. “Blake Morgan doesn’t take humiliation lightly.”

Cole shrugged. “I didn’t do it to humiliate him. That guard was beating an old man. You expect me to walk away?”

Mason grinned faintly. “That’s the General I know. Always fighting for the weak, even when it costs you.”

Cole didn’t reply. His fists were still stained with the memory of combat, swift, precise, instinctive. It had been years since he’d let himself move like that. And it felt… dangerous. Because once you awakened the warrior inside, burying him again was impossible.

That night, in the upper floors of the Morgan Tower, Blake Morgan stood by the glass wall of his office, overlooking the glittering city. A half empty glass of whiskey dangled from his hand.

“Say it again,” he ordered coldly.

The bodyguard, still nursing a bruised arm, bowed his head. “It was Cole Brady, sir. Fiona Parker’s husband. He stopped me in front of a crowd.”

Blake’s jaw clenched. “Cole Brady…” He swirled the whiskey, lips curling. “The useless son in law they all laugh at? That worm dared to lay a hand on one of mine?”

The bodyguard nodded nervously. “He… he didn’t move like a worm, sir. His technique, it was clean, military. He subdued me before I could react.”

Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Then Blake laughed, it was short, sharp, humorless.

“So the dog has fangs after all.” He downed the whiskey in one gulp, the fire in his chest matching the fury in his veins. “If he wants to play soldier, I’ll break him in front of everyone. I’ll make him crawl at my feet while Fiona watches.”

He slammed the glass onto the table, shattering it.

“Summon the others,” he ordered. “It’s time the Parkers remember who holds their leash.”

Meanwhile, back at the small apartment, Fiona paced restlessly. She had already heard whispers of what happened.

When Cole entered, she rounded on him immediately. “What did you do?”

Cole raised an eyebrow. “Good evening to you too.”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” she snapped, her voice shrill. “You attacked one of Blake’s men? Are you insane? Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve embarrassed the Parkers. You’ve embarrassed me!”

Cole met her fury with calm silence. That silence only fueled her rage.

“You think you’re some kind of hero? You’re nothing, Cole. Nothing! Blake is the future of this family, not you. And when he crushes you and he will, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

Her words landed like daggers, but Cole didn’t flinch. He had already heard every possible insult from her. Instead, he said quietly, “I stood up for a man who couldn’t fight back. If that embarrasses you, maybe you should ask yourself who the real disgrace is.”

Fiona’s face turned red, her hand trembling as though she wanted to slap him. But something in his eyes stopped her. They weren’t the eyes of a beaten dog anymore. They burned with quiet fire, steady and unyielding.

She turned away sharply, grabbing her purse. “Fine. I won’t waste my breath. Blake will deal with you soon enough.” She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Cole sat in silence, the echoes of the slam fading. For the first time, he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even sad. He simply… understood. Fiona had already chosen her side. And when the storm came, she would stand with his enemies.

The next morning, the Parker family mansion was buzzing. Henry Parker, Fiona, and several relatives gathered around the dining table. Blake himself sat at the head, casual and smug, as though the house belonged to him.

Henry cleared his throat nervously. “Mr. Morgan, I assure you, whatever happened yesterday was a misunderstanding. My son in law is… impulsive, that’s all.”

Blake leaned back, swirling his coffee with a silver spoon. “Impulsive? He humiliated one of my men in public. If people start thinking anyone can defy me, what do you think happens to my reputation?”

Henry swallowed hard. “I ,I’ll speak to him. He won’t trouble you again.”

Fiona chimed in quickly, “He’s just trying to look useful, Blake. You know he’s worthless. Please don’t take it seriously.”

Blake’s lips curved into a cold smile. “Oh, I’m taking it very seriously.” He set down the spoon, his gaze sharp as a blade. “If Cole Brady wants to act like a man, then I’ll treat him like one. Which means breaking him.”

Henry paled. Fiona bit her lip, though a flicker of satisfaction danced in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Blake continued smoothly. “I’ll handle it. The Morgans have their ways.”

That evening, Cole returned from a quiet walk to find Mason waiting outside the apartment. His friend’s expression was grim.

“They’re moving fast,” Mason warned. “I’ve caught wind, Blake is preparing something. You humiliated him in front of too many witnesses. He won’t rest until he makes an example of you.”

Cole nodded. “I expected as much.”

Mason studied him carefully. “General… do you want me to call the others? They’ll come if you summon them.”

For a long moment, Cole was silent. The thought of summoning his old soldiers, men who had followed him into fire and blood, stirred something deep inside him. But the city wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

“Not now,” he said finally. “If I can’t stand on my own two feet, I don’t deserve their loyalty.”

Mason frowned but didn’t argue.

Cole looked up at the night sky, the city lights glowing like distant stars. He thought of the voice on the phone, of the enemies moving in the shadows, of Blake’s growing hostility.

“I’ve hidden long enough,” he murmured. “If Blake wants a fight, then let him come. But when he does, he’ll learn the man he mocked isn’t the man who stands before him now.”

Mason’s eyes gleamed with pride. “That’s the Ghost General speaking.”

Cole’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “No. That’s Cole Brady speaking. And they’ll remember my name.”

Far away, in the Morgan Tower, Blake Morgan raised his glass in a private toast.

“To Cole Brady,” he sneered. “May your rise be short-lived.”