THE HIDDEN HEIR'S VENGEANCE

CHAPTER 27 : The Hunt Has Begun

Two days later.

New York’s financial world was in an uproar over the sudden collapse of James Sterling and his investment firm. No one knew how it had happened. The viral market news dismissed it as nothing more than an unlucky flash crash.

That morning, Matthew was slowly sipping his black coffee when his private phone vibrated. The number was unfamiliar, but he knew exactly who was calling.

“Yes?” Matthew answered flatly.

“You… you’re a demon, Matthew,” James’s voice rasped on the other end. It shook with restrained sobs and desperate rage. “You trapped me with that garbage data. You destroyed my life, my family, everything.”

“You’re the one who chose to press the execution button, James,” Matthew replied coldly. “Your greed was the architect of your own destruction.”

“I won’t let you win. I have connections in the Consortium. They will hunt you down. I’ll make sure you rot in prison or end up in a gutter,” James shrieked.

Matthew looked down at his coffee cup, completely unmoved by the threat. “James, you have nothing left. You cannot even afford a lawyer.”

“I’ll kill you. I swear…”

Matthew pulled the phone away from his ear. He had no time to listen to the wailing of a dead man. With a single efficient motion of his finger, he ended the call and permanently blocked the number.

He slowly placed the phone on the wooden table and stood up. Viviane entered the room, looking at him with an expression that was hard to read, a mixture of awe and faint fear.

“Is James finished?” Viviane asked softly.

“He is no longer a relevant variable,” Matthew replied as he walked toward his wife. “Prepare the board of directors. We will take over the remainder of James Sterling’s assets this afternoon. Lane Corp needs more room to expand.”

Viviane nodded, but her gaze lingered on the bloodstained handkerchief lying on the table. “Are you all right, Matt? You look… different.”

Matthew paused, feeling the remnants of a migraine pulsing behind his eyes. “I’m just building the future, Vie… and the future always demands sacrifice.”

As the man walked out of the room, his phone blinked once more. It was not a call but an ancient string of binary code appearing on the retinal display of his ARC system. A message from a darkness deeper than Wall Street itself.

["The hunt has begun.”]

***

The air inside Dimitri Lane’s private study reeked of expensive tobacco and old ambition gone sour. The room occupied the top floor of the Lane Estate penthouse on the Upper East Side, the place where the Lane family’s dirtiest decisions were made far from public scrutiny.

The walls were clad in dark mahogany, crowded with oil portraits of ancestors whose painted eyes seemed to judge all who stood beneath them. To Matthew Thomas, however, all this classical opulence was nothing more than aging décor from a kingdom already on the brink of collapse before he had arrived to save it.

Dimitri Lane sat behind his massive desk. The old man was the younger brother of the late Dominic Lane, Viviane’s father. His face was carved with harsh lines, his silver hair slicked neatly back, and his eyes held the cunning of an ancient snake.

He had just returned from Zurich, and his presence alone sent a chill through the entire family structure. Matthew stood in the center of the room, having refused the condescending offer of a seat five minutes earlier.

“You are not touching your coffee, Matthew,” Dimitri’s voice broke the silence. His baritone was heavy, honed by decades of closed-door negotiations.

“I did not come here to drink coffee, Dimitri,” Matthew replied flatly. He did not use the honorific "Uncle." “You summoned me for something urgent. Say it plainly. The Monolith operational schedule does not recognize downtime.”

Dimitri smiled thinly, a smirk that never reached his eyes, then opened a desk drawer and pulled out a checkbook and a legal document folder. He placed them on the desk and slowly slid them toward Matthew.

“Straight to the point. I like that. Dominic always said you were too soft, but it seems you have grown fangs lately.”

Dimitri leaned back in his leather chair, fingers interlaced. “Lane Corp is in a period of transition. Viviane… she is a sweet girl, but emotional. She needs stability, not scandal.”

Matthew glanced at the folder. “Scandal?”

“Your existence,” Dimitri said sharply. “A former low-level accountant who suddenly becomes Chief Strategy Officer. The old investors do not like it. They see you as a parasite living off the family, Matthew. A leech who happened to marry the king’s daughter.”

“The old investors, or you?” Matthew cut in coldly.

Dimitri let out a dry chuckle. “What is the difference? I represent the voice of tradition. Listen, boy, I know you had a hand in removing Mark Davies and pressuring Carol. Good work, truly. But playing in a small pond is different from swimming in the ocean. We do not need a late-arriving hero.”

Dimitri tapped the checkbook on the desk. “Fifty million dollars,” he said. “A number you would never have imagined in your lifetime. Enough to buy a small island, a new identity, and live like a petty king wherever you please.”

Matthew remained silent, listening.

“The terms are simple,” Dimitri continued. “Sign these divorce papers, leave Lane Corp, and never appear in New York again.”

Matthew’s eyes flashed faintly blue for a split second as the Absolute Resource Control System, ARC, activated across his retina.

[WARNING: Bribery Attempt Detected] ed]

[Target Asset Analysis: Dimitri Lane]

[Probability Calculation: 0 Percent Conventional Negotiation Success]

[Response Option: Total Domination]

A sharp twinge pierced Matthew’s temple. Using ARC to dissect someone’s psychology in real time always came at a cost.

[COST PAID: $500,000 (Personal Liquidity Deduction for Deep Psychological Scan and Voice Data Encryption)]

A mild headache struck Matthew, a small price for the flood of information now filling his vision. Numbers hovered around Dimitri’s head. Gambling debts in Macau. Frozen assets in the Cayman Islands. And a deep-seated fear that Viviane would uncover the embezzlement he had committed ten years earlier.

Matthew stepped forward and picked up the checkbook. Dimitri smiled in triumph. “A smart choice. Poor men always know when to stop dreaming.”

Then the sharp sound of tearing paper echoed through the silent room. Dimitri’s smile vanished instantly.

Matthew tore the fifty-million-dollar check in half, then into quarters, and let the pieces fall onto the polished mahogany desk as if they were trash.

“You think I am something you can buy, Dimitri?” Matthew’s voice was low, vibrating with an authority that made the air itself feel heavy.

Dimitri’s face flushed with rage. He stood and slammed his hand on the desk. “Watch your mouth, boy. Who do you think you are? You are nothing but a stray dog we allowed into this house.”