The Conglomerate Heir Awakens

4

Rain drizzled over the small cemetery, soft enough to feel staged—fitting, considering the entire scene was staged.

A sleek black hearse rolled to a stop. Vale agents, dressed as solemn funeral workers, lifted an empty coffin and carried it toward the open grave. Everything was coordinated: the flowers, the mourners, even the priest reciting practiced words.

Clara stood at the front, gripping a tissue as if it were her lifeline.

Her mascara ran down her cheeks in perfect streaks—though no one knew whether it was grief or the rain.

“Ethan was… a good man,” she choked out, loud enough for those around her to hear.

In truth, she kept glancing around nervously, paranoid someone would call her out. But the mourners—half coworkers, half strangers planted by the Vale unit—watched her with sympathy.

A perfect performance.

Grand Steward Rowan stood not far away, disguised among the guests, his expression unreadable.

He watched Clara tremble through her speech.

He watched Granger pretend to comfort her, an arm around her shoulder.

He also watched how Granger’s hand tightened just a little too possessively.

So this is the man who pushed him.

Rowan’s jaw locked.

As the coffin was lowered, Clara sobbed loudly, clutching the air as if reaching for Ethan one last time.

One of the Vale agents murmured under his breath, “She should win an award for this.”

Another replied quietly, “Let her act. She won’t be able to hide when the real heir comes back.”

Clara dabbed her eyes again.

She thought the world had just buried her mistake.

But the grave held no body.

And the man she helped kill was watching through a scope from a hill far beyond the cemetery—alive, silent, and learning.

Ethan sat in a small, rented apartment overlooking the city’s skyline. It was nothing like his old home, but it served its purpose: a quiet vantage point, far above the world that once crushed him.

His tablet screen glowed with lines of data Rowan provided—financial records, company logs, private messages, security footage.

He forced himself to watch every second of Clara and Granger together.

Not because he wanted to.

But because he needed to understand the people who murdered him.

Their patterns. Their weaknesses. Their ambitions.

He learned that Granger had been siphoning money for months, using Ethan as a shield.

Clara had been helping him, willingly.

He learned how many people they stepped on, lied to, manipulated.

He learned how they celebrated the night he “died.”

Something cold solidified inside him.

“This isn’t anger,” he whispered.

“This is clarity.”

He wasn’t going to storm in recklessly.

He wasn’t going to confront them emotionally.

He would study them.

Dissect them.

Break their foundations piece by piece.

He leaned back, letting the city lights paint his face with pale reflections.

“They took everything from me,” he said quietly.

“It’s my turn.”

Ethan adjusted the silver cufflinks on his suit—Vale-patterned, subtle but unmistakably tied to the dynasty. His hair was slicked back, posture confident, expression cool. No trace of the timid man Clara and Granger once mocked.

He looked like an outsider now.

Untouchable.

Important.

Exactly what he needed to be.

When he walked through the glass doors of the company he once worked for, the receptionists straightened instantly.

“Good morning, sir. Welcome—may I ask who you are here to see?”

“Your CEO,” Ethan said with a faint, polite smile.

“Tell him a representative from the Vale Group has arrived.”

Eyes widened.

No one questioned him.

Within minutes, Granger himself hurried down the hallway, sweat beading at his temple. He extended a hand too quickly.

“Sir! Welcome! We… didn’t expect someone from the Vale family so soon.”

Ethan shook his hand calmly.

He watched Granger struggle to place him—and fail entirely.

His new look, new aura, and the subtle illusion tech masking details of his face kept him concealed.

“Let’s discuss investment opportunities,” Ethan said smoothly.

Granger practically bowed.

Ethan followed him inside the office he once sat in as an employee—now from the other side of the table.

And Granger had no idea death was sitting across from him.

The company gala was scheduled for Friday night—a glamorous event meant to attract sponsors and investors.

Ethan used the time leading up to it to place every trap precisely where it needed to be.

He leaked certain documents anonymously to the event organizers.

He fed rumors to the right circles.

He supplied evidence of Granger’s financial misconduct to the board—just enough to raise questions but not enough to explode prematurely.

He even arranged for a certain reporter—someone Granger once humiliated publicly—to be invited.

Piece by piece, he loaded the stage.

Granger, oblivious, prepared a speech bragging about new partnerships. Clara practiced a smile in the mirror, ready to play the supportive fiancé.

Meanwhile, Ethan tested the pendant’s energy in private. Small bursts. Short pulses. Enough to enhance his strength, sharpen his senses, let him anticipate reactions.

He didn’t plan to use brute force at the gala.

Not yet.

He wanted Granger to destroy himself.

And at the height of the night, surrounded by cameras and influential guests, all Ethan had to do was nudge one well-timed domino.

The rest would fall on its own.

He glanced at the mirror, adjusting his tie.

“You took my life,” he murmured.

“Tonight, I take yours apart.”

***

The ballroom glowed with chandeliers and laughter. Champagne flowed. Music hummed through the air.

Ethan watched from a balcony, hidden among the crowd, as Granger stepped onto the stage with that smug smile Ethan had seen countless times.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Granger announced, “tonight marks a new era for our company—”

The screens behind him flickered.

The audience murmured.

Granger paused, confused.

Then the screens lit up again—this time with projected images of unauthorized accounts, forged signatures, personal messages arranging embezzlement.

Gasps rippled through the room.

Clara’s face drained of color.

Granger stumbled over his words. “This—this is false! This is—someone hacked—”

A reporter stood up.

“Mr. Granger, would you like to comment on the stolen funds you moved into an offshore account under your fiancée’s maiden name?”

Camera flashes exploded like gunshots.

Board members exchanged alarmed looks.

Clara stepped away from Granger as if he were contagious.

Security began whispering into earpieces.

The crowd turned from polite interest to hungry judgment.

And in the chaos, Ethan slipped through the exits unnoticed.

By the time Granger was escorted out—shouting, sweating, begging—his reputation was already shredded.

Clara watched him being dragged out, her hands shaking.

She didn’t know it yet, but she had just lost the shield she built her life around.

Everything was starting to collapse.

…

Ethan stood alone on a rooftop overlooking the city. The wind carried the distant echoes of Granger’s downfall—news alerts, whispers, scandal already spreading like wildfire.

He should have felt satisfied.

But he didn’t.

Not yet.

He pulled out his phone and zoomed in on Clara’s apartment building. Lights flickered in her window—the glow of someone pacing, panicking, unraveling.

“Your turn,” Ethan muttered.

He wasn’t planning a quick revenge.

He wasn’t going to end things with one dramatic strike.

People like Clara didn’t learn from losing once.

She needed to feel the slow rot of everything she built turning against her—her job, her finances, her relationships, her reputation.

He tightened his grip on the pendant.

“You pushed me off a cliff,” he said quietly.

“You took my child from me.”

“You helped bury me alive.”

Silence answered him.

His voice grew softer, colder.

“I am not done with you yet.”

The city lights flickered across his eyes as he walked away from the edge.

The next phase had already begun.