THE HIDDEN HEIR'S VENGEANCE

CHAPTER 13 : Viviane’s First Confession

That night, after the chaos of the market finally subsided, Viviane insisted that Matthew have dinner alone with her in their penthouse. There was no talk of business. Only the soft clink of cutlery and the sound of heavy rain pounding against the windows.

Viviane poured red wine into crystal glasses for both of them. She studied the man sitting beside her. Matthew kept his head lowered, hiding the hand that occasionally twitched beneath the table.

“Stop hiding from me, Matt,” Viviane said softly, but her words cut sharp.

Matthew slowly lifted his gaze and looked at his wife. “I’m not hiding,” he replied calmly.

“You’ve changed,” Viviane continued. “In one month, you went from a sweet accountant to a financial warlord who makes my uncles cry like babies.” She took a slow sip of the deep red liquid, then set the glass down.

Matthew only gave a faint smile. He did not respond.

“And every time you do that ‘magic’ of yours, I notice something,” Viviane went on. “You’re always in pain. You think I’m blind? Sudden nosebleeds, tremors, and headaches. What’s happening to you, Matt? You’re scaring me.”

Matthew Thomas fell silent. A fierce conflict raged inside him. Telling Viviane about the ARC System and the Archon bloodline would put her in far greater danger. But lying to her now would destroy the only emotional alliance he had left.

“I can’t tell you everything, Vie. Not yet,” Matthew said slowly. “But think of it this way. I found a legacy that was left for me. A tool. A tool that gives me vision.”

“Vision?” Viviane asked.

“I can see patterns other people can’t,” Matthew replied, meeting her eyes. “Probabilities, risks, collapse. But this tool demands a price. Nothing is free. There is no such thing as a free lunch.”

Viviane leaned forward and reached for Matthew’s trembling hand on the table. She did not pull it away. She held it tightly.

“Back then,” Viviane said again, her voice shaking, “when my father died, my mother turned me into a doll. She said women couldn’t lead, so I had to stay pretty and quiet while Uncle Robert and the others looted the company. I felt powerless. I hated that feeling.”

She stared straight at Matthew. “But you gave me my power back. You drove those vultures away. So I don’t care where your strength comes from, Matt. Technology, magic, or a curse. I only ask one thing.”

“What is it?” Matthew asked quietly.

“Don’t die,” Viviane said, hope and fear tightening her grip on his hand. “And don’t lose yourself. Show me who you really are. Don’t use me as a cover anymore. Be my partner. My true equal.”

Something warm stirred in Matthew’s chest, a sensation the ARC System could never quantify, a feeling it had nearly erased: his humanity.

“I promise,” Matthew said as he squeezed her hand in return. “We’ll build Monolith together, and we’ll destroy Julian Vance, my very influential uncle, together.”

That night, for the first time, they did not sleep as two strangers sharing a bed but as allies bound by the same fate. Yet inside Matthew’s mind, system notifications continued to blink, warning him that Julian Vance had already begun to move.

***

Several days later,

The Grand Hyatt auditorium was filled with five hundred of the world’s most powerful investors. Pension funds, sovereign wealth funds, and investment bankers gathered to hear the presentation of Project Monolith. Skepticism hung thick in the air like smog.

Matthew stood at the podium, dressed in a bespoke black suit that concealed a body growing thinner under the burden of the system. Behind him, the massive screen remained dark.

“Mr. Thomas,” called out an elderly investor in the front row, a representative from BlackRock. “You are asking for fifty billion dollars for a financial technology project that doesn’t even have a physical prototype. You are only thirty-five years old. Why should we entrust teachers’ pension funds to your daydream?”

A ripple of quiet laughter spread through the room. Viviane, standing beside the stage, held her breath. This was a moment that meant life or death. Matthew did not smile. He tapped the podium once.

[SYSTEM ACTIVE: ‘Quantum Market Projection, 100-Year Forecast. ’]

[COST: Neural overload. 90% risk of collapse after ten minutes. Short-term memory damage.]

“Activate,” Matthew commanded the ARC System.

The screen behind him exploded in blinding light before settling into focus. What appeared was not a simple bar chart but a three-dimensional simulation of the global economy.

“You see risk,” Matthew’s voice echoed through the hall, amplified by the pristine sound system. “I see certainty.”

The simulation surged forward through time—five years, ten years, then twenty.

“In 2030, an energy crisis will cripple traditional fiat currencies. Monolith will become the new liquidity anchor,” Matthew explained as the data danced in sync with his words. “And by 2045, U.S. and European market integration will require a neutral clearinghouse. Monolith will already be there.”

The investors stared in disbelief. The data generated by ARC was impossibly detailed and coherent, down to wheat price fluctuations in Ukraine in the year 2050. This was not a presentation. It was a revelation.

“This data…” murmured the BlackRock investor as he rose from his seat. “It accounts for quantum variables. How did you…”

“I am not guessing the future,” Matthew said calmly. “I am building it.”

He spread his arms. “Monolith’s projected return is not ten percent or twenty percent. It is total hegemony over the global flow of financial data.”

Blood began to drip from Matthew’s nose, heavier this time. His vision narrowed into a dark tunnel. A piercing ring filled his ears.

“Hold on, Matthew,” he told himself. “Two more minutes. You can do this.”

“Who wants to be part of history?” Matthew challenged, his voice growing hoarse as pain split through his skull. “And who wants to be nothing more than a forgotten footnote?”

The room fell into silence for several seconds. Every eye remained locked on Matthew, still standing at the podium.

Then the BlackRock investor raised his hand. “We’re in. Five billion dollars.”

“Goldman Sachs, seven billion!”

“Qatar Investment Authority, ten billion!”

Shouts of commitment erupted across the auditorium. The counter on the screen surged wildly, smashing through the fifty-billion-dollar target in minutes. Matthew had done the impossible. He had sold the future.

Viviane exhaled in relief, a smile breaking across her face. Then she saw the blood dripping onto the stage floor, and she knew Matthew had reached his limit.

Matthew closed the presentation. “Thank you, gentlemen,” he said firmly. At that exact moment, the lights went out. Thunderous applause shook the room. As the curtains fell, Matthew collapsed.

“Matt!” Viviane cried out as she rushed forward, catching his body before it hit the floor.

Matthew struggled for breath, his face deathly pale, blood seeping from his nose and ears. Still, he managed a weak smile.

“We did it,” he whispered. “We really did it, Vie,” before darkness claimed him.

[MAIN MISSION COMPLETE: Monolith Funding.]

[STATUS: OVERFUNDED (200%).]

[TITLE UNLOCKED: ‘The Ghost Architect. ’]

[WARNING: Neural damage 15%. Total rest required for 72 hours.]

Behind the shadowed curtain, Viviane cradled her unconscious husband, staring at the investors beyond the stage who were still applauding.

In that moment, she understood one thing. The war had only just begun, and her husband was the most fragile and most lethal weapon in the world.