2025-10-20 12:33:50The next morning brought fresh storms of anxiety. Harrison summoned the finance team at dawn. He stood by the window of his office, staring out at the rain.
“Someone in this department is incompetent,” he snapped. “Documents do not vanish on their own.”
Miss Anabel spoke carefully. “Sir, I have the ledgers ready for recheck.”
“I asked for the receipts, not ledgers,” he said coldly.
At that moment, John stepped in holding a folder. “Excuse me, sir. I found these behind one of the cabinets in the archive room.”
Harrison spun around. “What?”
John handed him the folder. “They must have fallen behind during filing.”
Harrison snatched it, flipping through the papers. His expression flickered between relief and suspicion. “How convenient,” he murmured.
“I thought you should have them immediately,” John said.
Harrison stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Good work. You may go.”
John turned to leave, but he could feel the man’s gaze burning into his back. He had just placed the seed of doubt exactly where it belonged.
Later that afternoon, whispers spread through the hotel like wildfire. Harrison’s name appeared in hushed conversations, his authority questioned. Rita overheard two clerks near the staff lounge.
“They say Harrison forged some numbers.”
“Are you serious?”
An auditor called from headquarters this morning. There will be an investigation.”
Rita’s heart raced. She looked across the lobby and saw John passing with a calm, unreadable face. Something about him made her uneasy—he no longer moved like a man beneath orders. He moved like someone who owned the ground he walked on.
She followed him into the service corridor. “John,” she called.
He stopped. “Yes?”
“What is happening? People are saying strange things.”
“Maybe the truth is catching up with lies,” he said.
Her voice trembled. “You are not the same.”
He looked at her, eyes steady. “Maybe I stopped pretending.”
She wanted to ask more, but footsteps echoed down the hall. Harrison appeared, his expression dark. Rita stepped aside quickly. Harrison’s gaze locked on John.
“Raymond,” he said slowly, “a word.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harrison waited until Rita was gone before speaking again. “You found those receipts conveniently. Too conveniently.”
“I only did my duty,” John said.
Harrison’s voice lowered. “Do not play clever games with me. I built this place. I know when someone is digging.”
John kept his tone mild. “Then perhaps you should check who else is digging, sir.”
The older man’s eyes narrowed. “You are ambitious, aren’t you?”
“I am efficient,” John replied. “There is a difference.”
Harrison leaned closer. “Efficient men sometimes disappear, Raymond. Remember that.”
John met his gaze without flinching. “Then I will make sure I am not one of them.”
Harrison stared at him for a long moment, then smiled coldly. “Be careful. Ambition without power is suicide.”
He turned and walked away, leaving the faint smell of cigar smoke behind. John exhaled slowly, his hands clenched at his sides. The line between silence and war had just been crossed.
---
That evening, he stood once again in the grand lobby. Guests came and went, oblivious to the invisible storm gathering above them. The golden crest gleamed under the chandelier’s light. He stared at it, remembering his vow.
Behind him, a phone rang at the reception. Rita answered, her face paling as she listened. She looked toward him. “John,” she said softly. “Mr Harrison wants to see you in his office. Now.”
John nodded, his heartbeat steady. He walked toward the elevator, each step echoing louder than the last.
On the top floor, the corridor was silent. He knocked once, then entered. Harrison sat behind his desk, the city lights spreading behind him like a kingdom of glass. On the desk lay the receipts opened, rearranged, and marked with red ink.
“Sit,” Harrison said.
John obeyed.
Harrison leaned forward, voice low and measured. “Tell me something, Raymond. Who exactly are you?”
John’s pulse quickened, but his expression did not change. “A bellhop, sir.”
Harrison’s eyes glinted. “No. Not anymore.”
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky. Inside, the quiet stretched thin as wire.
For the first time, John realised the shadow war had turned real—and someone had finally seen him for what he was becoming.
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Chapter 18: The War for the Crest
Morning broke over the city like the calm before battle. The Imperial Crest stood tall, its glass towers catching the sun as if nothing had changed, yet inside, every corridor throbbed with urgency.John Raymond’s war had begun.He sat at the centre of the storm, the boardroom transformed into a command post. Screens displayed charts, transactions, and market feeds. Rita stood beside him, her face pale with exhaustion but her focus razor-sharp.“Another three investors just pulled out,” she said quietly. “The press is saying Sovereign is the future, and we’re the past.”John didn’t flinch. “Then we make the past unforgettable.”Dalton leaned forward. “We’ve traced Harrison’s funding trail through offshore accounts. He’s been buying up Crest shares through proxies. If he hits forty percent, he can launch a hostile takeover.”“How close is he?” John asked.“Thirty-four and rising.”John exhaled slowly. “Then we hit him where it hurts.”He turned to Rita. “Set up the leaks.”Her eyes wid
Chapter 17: The Sovereign’s Shadow
The morning after Shack’s death, the city woke to headlines that painted the sky in scandal. Top Executive Shot Inside Imperial Crest. Corporate Conspiracy or Internal Power Play? Reporters crowded the front of the hotel, their cameras flashing like lightning. The empire that had once embodied luxury now pulsed with rumours of betrayal and blood.John stood before the glass wall of his office, jaw tight, tie undone, eyes fixed on the skyline. Below, chaos churned. Inside, silence reigned. Shack’s death had not only broken him — it had ignited something in him that had been buried since his father’s death. The lion was awake again, and this time there would be no mercy.Rita entered quietly, placing a folder on his desk. “These are Shack’s personal effects,” she said. “Security cleared them an hour ago.”John didn’t look at it. “How many of the board members know what happened?”“Officially, none. Dalton’s keeping it under wraps for now. Unofficially…” she hesitated, “everyone.”Joh
Chapter 16: The Ghost of Loyalty
The hotel was quiet again, but the silence felt different now — strained, almost fragile. In the executive wing, the corridors were half-lit, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and tension. Outside, thunder murmured in the distance, promising another storm.John stood by the window of his office, the faint reflection of city lights glimmering in his eyes. The letter from his father lay on the desk behind him, its words branded in his mind. The man who guards your future once guarded my death.He turned as the door opened. Shack stepped in, moving with his usual calm, though his face looked older tonight. The years had finally caught up with him.“You said you wanted to talk,” John said quietly.Shack nodded. “I think it’s time you knew everything.”John’s gaze sharpened. “Then start.”Shack closed the door and leaned against it, his hands in his pockets. “Your father and I began working together long before the Crest became what it is. He was ambitious, brilliant, but too t
Chapter 15: Crown of Smoke
The city glowed like molten glass under the morning sun, as if the storm had never happened. From the top floor of The Imperial Crest, John Raymond watched the light spread over the skyline. It looked peaceful from a distance, but peace, he knew, was just a pause between wars.Two days had passed since the rooftop confrontation. The police had searched the surrounding streets and riverbanks, but no body was found. The official report called Harrison West “missing, presumed dead.” John did not believe it. The man had built his life on surviving ruin.He turned from the window as Rita entered. Her arm was bandaged, her expression calm but wary. “The board just arrived,” she said. “They’re waiting for you in the main hall.”John nodded, adjusting his cufflinks. “Let’s finish what he started.”The boardroom gleamed again, restored to perfection. Dalton stood at the head of the table, flanked by senior members. Shack sat quietly to one side, hands clasped. The room buzzed with tension as J
Chapter 14: The Night of the Lion
The Imperial Crest was never meant to sleep, but that night it felt uneasy, like a beast sensing danger in the dark. Rain whispered across the glass dome, wind sighing through the upper floors. Every corridor gleamed with silence. Every camera blinked like a nervous eye.John Raymond stood in his office, staring out over the city. The storm lights painted the skyline in flashes of silver. Shack stood behind him, speaking softly into a comm device. “All guards are in position. No one gets in or out without clearance.”“Good,” John said. “Harrison is not the type to wait forever.”He turned from the window. His suit jacket hung open, his shirt sleeves rolled, the fatigue in his face tempered by cold determination. For days, he had rebuilt order from chaos, only for new cracks to appear. Rita’s alleged betrayal, Rose’s reappearance, the board’s wavering trust — every piece on the board was moving, and the enemy was finally closing in.Shack ended the call. “Security sweep came back clean
Chapter 13: Ashes and Iron
Smoke still lingered in the air days after the explosion. The Imperial Crest no longer shone like the city’s crown; it stood wounded, its glass façade scarred with soot. But beneath the ruin, something else was rising, quiet, deliberate, unbreakable.John Raymond sat at the head of the emergency board table for the first time. The conference room smelled faintly of charred wiring and disinfectant. Around him sat the senior managers, journalists’ headlines glowing on their tablets. FIRE AT THE IMPERIAL CREST: SABOTAGE OR NEGLIGENCE?“We’ve confirmed it wasn’t an accident,” Shack said from his seat beside John. “The explosive was military-grade, planted directly beneath the network servers.”“And Harrison?” Dalton, the chairman, asked.“Still missing,” Shack replied. “Interpol has his name on the watch list, but no sightings.”John’s tone was steady. “He’ll surface. Men like him always believe they can come back.”Dalton rubbed his temples. “The board is divided. Some want to suspend al
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