2026-02-04 23:40:38
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Chapter 38:Charlotte's Intervention
The house was a testament to cold, clinical luxury. Situated on the fiftieth floor, it offered a panoramic view of the city,a sprawling metropolis that Ethan now viewed not as a home but as a chessboard. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the living room, showing the twinkling lights of the city below, but inside, the atmosphere was sterile.Everything in the penthouse was expensive, yet nothing was personal. There were no photos on the sleek, black marble surfaces, no warmth in the designer furniture, and no personal trinkets to suggest someone actually lived here. It was a space designed to impress, not to comfort. Ethan stood by the window, a glass of expensive whisky in his hand, watching the world go by, feeling the immense weight of the power he now wielded, yet feeling increasingly detached from it.The silence was broken by the sharp, authoritative buzz of the intercom. Ethan didn't need to look to know who it was. He pressed the button, allowing Charlotte Bianco up.When the ele
Chapter 37: The threat
The Bentley’s ride was exceptionally smooth and nearly silent, a stark contrast to the turbulent thoughts racing through Ethan’s mind. The $10,000 he’d left at the diner felt like a formality, a debt settled in a place he no longer belonged to, a final act of superiority over his former life. His phone buzzed against his thigh—a notification from the specialised security app he’d installed on all his devices, a constant feed of data protecting his new, incredibly valuable life.He glanced at the screen, his expression hardening.It was an anonymous text message, the same one he’d received yesterday, echoing the threat from the past. "You destroyed my father. I won't let you get away with it."Ethan had already assigned a specialised team to trace the burner number. The result had come back in ten minutes: Jonathan Morrison. Richard’s nephew. Derek’s cousin. The weakest link in a broken chain. Jonathan had always been the pathetic one, the parasite living off the Morrison name, and now
Chapter 36:Ghost From the Past
The black Bentley purred to a halt in front of Marco's Diner, its sleek obsidian finish looking absurdly out of place amidst the peeling paint and faded signage of the surrounding neighbourhood. It was eight-fifteen AM, the peak of the breakfast rush, and the smells of cheap grease and burnt coffee wafted through the air—a scent that used to feel like home but now felt like a cage. The neighbourhood was rough, a place where people lived pay cheque to pay cheque, and the diner was its heart. Ethan stared through the tinted glass, remembering the countless mornings he’d stood on this corner waiting for the bus, dreading the shift ahead.Ethan stepped out, adjusting his cuffs. The $80,000 watch on his wrist caught the morning sun, glinting brighter than anything else on the block, a beacon of unreachable wealth in a sea of gray poverty. He was wearing a $15,000 tailored charcoal suit that fit him like a second skin, a stark contrast to the stained aprons and worn polyester uniforms he us
Chapter 35:The daughter's plea
Ethan’s eyes scanned the fine print of the Crown Street property contracts, his pen hovering over a clause about zoning restrictions. The office door swung open with a sharp click against the frame—no knock, no warning.Natalie Morrison stood on the threshold.Her eyes were raw and puffed, the skin beneath them stained pink from hours of tears. Strands of hair had escaped her ponytail, falling in limp wisps across her forehead. She wore faded jeans and a cotton shirt that had been wrinkled in a ball somewhere; not a single trace of the polished woman he’d once taken to galas and charity dinners remained.“Security let you up?” Ethan kept his gaze on the documents spread before him, his voice even.“I told them my father was having a heart attack.” Her words came rough and ragged, as if her throat were lined with sandpaper. “I need to talk to you. Now.”“No, we don’t.”“Ethan please—”“You should leave, Natalie. Before I call security back to walk you out.”She crossed the room in thre
Chapter 34:The Reckoning
Ethan got to Kidman Industries at 5:47 AM. Most of the building was dark, just security lights and a few early birds already at work. He rode up to the executive floor in silence, watching the city wake up below.By six, the war room was set.Vincent sat at the head of the table—sharp and alert for a seventy-year-old. Rebecca was next to him, typing fast on her laptop. Three lawyers Ethan didn’t know were there too, from the firm that handled their crises."Morning," Vincent said, almost cheerful. "Heard we’re moving things up.""Richard Morrison did an interview last night. Called me a liar who set up his son and played with his daughter’s feelings." Ethan sat down, moving carefully, like he was working on something precise. "So yeah—we’re moving up."One of the lawyers, a sharp woman in her fifties, pulled up a file on the screen. "We’ve got three sets of stuff to release: money crimes, personal mistakes, and business lies. The question is how much to put out and how quick.""All of
Chapter 33:Dinner and Deception
Charlotte's apartment was smaller than Ethan expected. Not tiny, but modest—a renovated loft in a converted factory building, exposed brick and high ceilings, furnished with clean lines and comfortable pieces that looked lived-in rather than designer-perfect.Human. That's what it felt like. Human."Wine?" Charlotte called from the kitchen area, pulling a bottle from the fridge."Please."Ethan stood by the windows, looking out over the city. From this height, the lights looked almost peaceful. Hard to believe the same streets held so much complexity. So much pain and power wrapped together.Charlotte appeared beside him, holding two glasses. "You're thinking too hard. I can literally see the gears turning.""Sorry. Workday.""I know the feeling." She handed him a glass, their fingers brushing. Deliberate. "But we agreed—no work talk tonight. Just dinner. Just us.""Just us," Ethan repeated, tasting the words. When was the last time he'd been "just" anything?They moved to the small d
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