2025-10-20 12:40:02Morning light poured through the high glass walls of The Imperial Crest, but the air was heavy, the calm before a storm. John stood at the upper balcony of the executive floor, staring down at the lobby where guests bustled under chandeliers. The hotel pulsed with life again, but something about that rhythm felt off. Too quick. Too perfect.
Shack entered quietly. “The numbers from last night’s bookings are strange,” he said. “A sudden wave of cancellations, all from corporate clients linked to Mart-Dove.”
John didn’t turn. “Harrison’s hand.”
“Most likely,” Shack replied. “He’s feeding them rumours. I’m certain of it. Some staff members have started whispering that you forged your father’s documents.”
John’s reflection in the glass barely moved. “Fear spreads faster than proof. We let them talk. Then we give them the truth.”
Shack’s tone darkened. “He’s not working alone. Collins is still missing. And Rose hasn’t clocked in for two days.”
John finally turned. “Find them both.”
Shack nodded and left.
John stood still for a moment longer, watching the golden crest in the lobby below. It shone like a promise, but he knew how fragile gold could be. One crack, one lie, and the whole empire could collapse again.
---
Rita moved quickly through the service hallway, her heart pounding. She had spent the morning combing through internal messages, tracing subtle exchanges between Rose and the missing Collins. At first, it looked like casual conversation—shift schedules, staff issues—but hidden between lines were encrypted numbers and strange file references.
She stopped outside the communications room, glancing around before slipping inside. The hum of machines filled the air. She sat at a terminal, entered a code she’d found in one of Rose’s messages, and held her breath as an unfamiliar window opened.
Dozens of emails appeared, each one forwarded to an external address. The sender tag read R. Harrison.
Rita’s chest tightened. She copied everything onto a drive, hands shaking. Just as she was about to log out, a voice behind her said, “You should not be here.”
She turned sharply. Rose stood in the doorway, eyes cold, lips curved in a mocking smile.
“I was wondering who was foolish enough to snoop around,” Rose said. “I should have known it would be you.”
Rita stood, trying to hide the flash drive. “What are you doing, Rose? You’re helping him destroy the Crest.”
Rose laughed softly. “The Crest was already his long before Raymond showed up. You think this place belongs to John? He inherited walls built by thieves.”
“You’re lying,” Rita snapped.
Rose stepped closer. “Am I? You have no idea what your precious John has done to stay ahead. He’s no saviour, just another vulture in a suit.”
Rita clenched her jaw. “You sold your loyalty for scraps from a traitor. I won’t.”
Rose’s expression turned dark. “Then you’ll regret standing in my way.”
Before Rita could react, Rose shoved her against the console and ran. Rita gasped, forcing herself up. The drive was still in her hand. She bolted after her, racing down the hall toward the elevators.
By the time she reached the lobby, Rose was gone.
---
Upstairs, John was meeting with the finance team when Shack burst in. “Emergency,” he said. “The hotel’s internal system has been hacked. All reservation data is being wiped.”
John froze. “How?”
“Someone accessed the servers remotely,” Shack replied. “From within the building.”
“Shut it down.”
“We tried. The system’s locked.”
John strode out of the meeting room, his mind racing. In the control office, technicians frantically tapped at keyboards as screens flashed warnings. “Unauthorized access,” one display read. “Deleting files.”
“Who’s logged in?” John demanded.
The lead technician swallowed. “It’s using Harrison’s old credentials—but they’re being rerouted through Collins’ ID.”
John’s jaw tightened. “Trace the signal.”
“It’s coming from the maintenance network… sub-level three.”
Shack’s eyes widened. “That’s the same level Harrison built his private server on during renovations.”
John grabbed a headset from the desk. “Seal every exit except the north stairwell. I’m going down.”
“John—” Shack began.
“Now,” he ordered.
He left before anyone could argue.
---
The sub-level was dimly lit, filled with the smell of dust and metal. Pipes ran along the ceiling like veins. John moved quickly, flashlight cutting through the gloom. His footsteps echoed against the concrete floor.
Somewhere ahead, a faint mechanical hum pulsed steadily. He followed it to an old storage room. The door was slightly ajar.
Inside, the glow of computer screens filled the darkness. Collins sat at the desk, typing furiously, sweat dripping down his temples. He froze when John spoke.
“Step away from the console.”
Collins turned slowly, fear and guilt warring in his eyes. “I didn’t want to, sir. He made me.”
“Harrison?”
“He said he’d kill my brother if I didn’t help him. I thought—”
“You thought betrayal was easier than courage,” John said coldly.
Collins’s voice cracked. “I’m sorry.”
John moved closer. “Where is he now?”
Before Collins could answer, a sharp click echoed behind them. John turned. A small red light blinked above the power box.
A bomb timer.
“Get down!” John shouted.
The explosion ripped through the far wall, hurling them both to the ground. Dust and fire burst into the room, alarms blaring through the sub-level. John coughed, pushing debris off his shoulders. Collins lay a few feet away, unconscious but alive. The main servers sparked violently, screens going black one by one.
John dragged Collins out of the room as the sprinklers came on. Water rained from the ceiling, mixing with smoke. Shack’s voice crackled over the headset. “John! What happened?”
“Explosion in the sub-level. System’s compromised. Get emergency crews now.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’ll live.”
He reached the stairwell, breathing hard. The hotel trembled as fire alarms wailed above. Staff and guests flooded the lobby in panic. Smoke curled up from the vents.
Shack met him halfway, his face grim. “They hit us really hard. All digital records are gone. Bookings, finances—everything.”
John wiped water from his face. “Rebuild them manually. No one leaves until we know who planted that device.”
Rita rushed toward them, clutching the drive she had taken. “John! Rose was behind it. She’s working with Harrison. I have proof.”
He took the drive, slipping it into his pocket. “Good work. Go to the security office and stay there.”
She nodded, shaking. “He won’t stop, John. You know that.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “And neither will I.”
---
By evening, the fire was contained. The guests had been evacuated safely, but news had already spread. Reporters gathered outside the gates, cameras flashing against the rain. The Imperial Crest, the city’s most prestigious hotel, was suddenly a headline of scandal.
John stood in the ruins of the sub-level, soaked and silent. Shack joined him, his coat stained with ash.
“Whoever planted that bomb knew exactly where to strike,” Shack said. “This wasn’t random.”
John nodded slowly. “It was a message.”
He turned toward the far wall, where the blast had torn through steel and concrete. Amid the wreckage, something gleamed—a shard of glass from a broken photo frame. Inside it, the faint image of the old Crest could still be seen, the word Raymond half-burned.
Shack spoke softly. “What will you do?”
John stared at the ruin. “The same thing my father would have done.”
He straightened, the flames reflecting in his eyes. “Rebuild. Stronger. But first—hunt the one who set the fire.”
Outside, lightning flashed over the skyline, casting the shattered hotel in silver light.
Miles away, in a dark motel room, Harrison watched the news broadcast on an old television. His reflection smiled back from the glass.
“The lion bleeds,” he whispered. “Now, let’s see if he roars.”
The screen flickered, and somewhere in the static, his laughter blended with the sound of thunder.
—
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Chapter 19: The Lion Abroad
The jet sliced through the clouds like a blade of glass. Zurich shimmered beneath the dawn, its rivers glinting gold in the early light. To anyone else, it was a city of peace and order. To John Raymond, it was enemy territory.He sat in silence as the plane began its descent, the world below drawing closer. His mind replayed Harrison’s words again and again — If you want your throne back, come take it from me.Rita’s voice echoed in his earpiece, steady and low. “You’re less than twenty minutes from Sovereign headquarters. We’ve confirmed their internal layout. Security’s tight, but there’s a window between shift rotations at eight.”“Good,” John said quietly. “Keep the Crest stable. Don’t let the board act without me.”“I’ll handle them,” Rita said. “Just come back alive.”The line went silent.John glanced out the window, his reflection a blur against the pale sky. Somewhere inside that mirrored skyline waited the man who had haunted two generations of his family.He closed his eye
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
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