The Last Zekaron: Reborn for Absolute Revenge

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"Look at this suit, everyone. Did you buy it from a thrift store bargain bin, Lucas?"

Jessica's voice carried across the golden ballroom, sharp and bright. She raised her champagne glass, signaling the entire room to look.

Lucas adjusted his cuffs, his skin burning under the glare of dozens of high-ranking corporate executives. The suit was off-the-rack, cheap material scratching against his neck, but he had spent his last savings on it for this night. He forced a smile, believing it was just a playful joke between lovers.

"I thought it looked sharp enough for our engagement party, Jess," Lucas said quietly.

"Sharp?" Damon chuckled from Jessica's right side, sliding an arm around her shoulder. "It looks like you found it in a dump behind the hotel. Honestly, Lucas, you look like a waiter who forgot to put on his apron."

Laughter rippled through the gathered crowd of executives and department heads. Lucas felt his pulse hammer against his throat. He looked at Damon, the man he had called his brother for ten years.

"Damon, come on. We agreed to keep things professional tonight," Lucas whispered.

"Professional?" Jessica laughed aloud, resting her head against Damon's chest. "There is nothing professional about you, Lucas. You were always just a placeholder until real men stepped into the room."

Lucas took a step backward, his mind reeling from the sight of Jessica clinging to Damon. "What are you talking about, Jess? We are getting married in two months."

"Married?" Lancelot Peterson walked into the center of the circle, his custom Italian suit immaculate. "Did you really think a dog like you could marry into upper management, Lucas?"

Lancelot sat down at the head of the main VIP table, leaning back with a cold, predatory smile. Cameras flashed as press photographers snapped pictures of the Peterson Group chairman.

"Come here, Lucas," Lancelot commanded, pointing to the floor next to his polished leather shoe. "Pick up my napkin."

Lucas swallowed hard, his fists shaking. "Mr. Peterson, I came here as an invited guest."

"Pick it up," Lancelot repeated, his eyes narrowing.

Damon shoved Lucas hard in the shoulder, knocking him off balance. Lucas fell to his knees beside Lancelot's chair. The laughter from the surrounding crowd grew louder, filled with open contempt.

Lucas reached out his right hand toward the linen napkin on the floor. Before his fingers touched the cloth, Lancelot brought his heavy leather boot down directly on top of Lucas's hand.

A sickening crunch echoed beneath the table. Pain shot up Lucas's arm like lightning, making his vision turn white around the edges.

"Smile for the cameras, Lucas," Lancelot said smoothly, turning toward the flashing lenses with a warm, grandfatherly smile while grinding his heel directly into Lucas's knuckles.

Lucas choked back a scream, his teeth digging into his lower lip until blood pooled on his tongue. Blood oozed from his crushed skin onto the polished wood floor.

Camera lenses clicked rapidly, capturing the scene from every angle.

Damon watched Lucas writhe on the floor with a cold, detached grin. Jessica giggled, taking a slow sip of her vintage wine without a single flicker of regret in her eyes.

Lucas stared at the blood smeared across his broken fingers. His mind fractured under the weight of the betrayal.

He remembered five years ago. A burning vehicle flipped over on a rain-slicked highway. Flames poured from the engine bay while Lucas lay trapped under the steering column. Damon had crawled through shattered glass, slicing his own arms open to drag Lucas out before the gas tank exploded.

"I won't leave you, brother," Damon had screamed through tears that night, coughing up black smoke. "We survive together."

He remembered three years ago. Lucas had contracted a rare, deadly viral fever. He lay in a cold apartment, shaking uncontrollably, his skin burning at dangerous temperatures. Jessica had stayed by his bedside for four days without sleeping. She had placed frozen towels on his chest, holding his hand through the dark hours.

"I love you, Lucas," she had whispered, kissing his sweaty forehead. "I will always take care of you, no matter how hard life gets."

Those memories shattered into pieces inside Lucas's mind like cheap glass. The people who had saved his life were now standing over him, enjoying his agony. The contrast felt like a rusted blade twisting deep in his chest, far worse than the bone-crushing pain in his right hand.

"Why?" Lucas gasped out, his forehead resting against the cold floor near Lancelot's shoe. "Damon... Jess... why are you doing this?"

Lancelot finally lifted his foot off Lucas's mangled hand. Lucas pulled his hand back, cradling his bloody, broken fingers against his chest.

"Why?" Jessica stepped forward, her high heels clicking loudly against the floor. "Because you are useless, Lucas. You were always just a low-level pawn."

"You built the core software architecture for the new logistics platform, Lucas," Damon said, kneeling down so his face was inches from Lucas's bloody cheek. "And you were stupid enough to put all the root access keys on the shared server under your personal login."

Lucas looked up, his breathing ragged. "The system security logs... you accessed them?"

"We didn't just access them, Lucas," Damon sneered. "We used your account to transfer fifty million dollars out of the company treasury into an offshore account in the Cayman Islands."

"The board noticed the missing funds two hours ago," Lancelot added calmly, wiping his polished shoe with a clean silk handkerchief. "And every single piece of digital evidence points straight to you."

Lucas stared at them in horror. "I didn't take any money! I spent six months working eighty hours a week to build that system!"

"No one cares what you did, Lucas," Jessica said coldly. "My family was drowning in fifty million dollars of debt to the Peterson Group. My father was going to go to prison. Lancelot offered a very simple deal."

She reached out and picked up a gold pen from the table, twirling it between her manicured fingers.

"If I helped set you up for the embezzlement," Jessica continued, "Lancelot agreed to erase my family's entire debt. It was a no-brainer. You were an easy sacrifice."

Lucas felt the blood drain completely from his face. "You sold me out... to pay your father's debt?"

"And what about you, Damon?" Lucas choked out, staring at his former best friend. "We built this career together!"

Damon laughed, a dry, cruel sound. "I get your position as Senior Managing Director, Lucas. I get your salary, your equity, your office, and your girl. Lancelot signed the promotion paper thirty minutes ago."

Damon leaned closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You were always too soft, Lucas. You thought loyalty actually meant something in this city. You were wrong."

The executives in the room laughed in approval, sipping expensive liquor as they watched Lucas bleed on the floor. Not a single person offered help. Not a single face showed pity.

"The police are already waiting downstairs," Lancelot said, standing up from his chair. "You will spend the next thirty years in a maximum-security prison for corporate theft, Lucas. Your life is over."

Lucas squeezed his eyes shut as hot tears mixed with the blood on his face. Everything he had built, every sacrifice he had made, had been ripped away in a single night by the only two people he had ever trusted.

"Actually, Chairman Peterson," Damon said, reaching into his suit jacket, "sending him to prison leaves too many open questions. What if he tries to hire an investigator? What if he talks?"

Lancelot stopped in his tracks, turning around with a calculating look in his eyes. "What are you suggesting, Damon?"

"I am suggesting we clean up the mess permanently," Damon said.

Lancelot slowly reached inside his inner coat pocket and pulled out a sleek, thin hunting knife with an ivory handle. The steel blade caught the light of the hotel chandeliers.

Lancelot held the handle out toward Damon. "Show me your loyalty then, Director. Finish it."

Damon looked at the knife. For half a second, his hand trembled as his fingers wrapped around the ivory grip. His eyes flickered with a fleeting shadow of hesitation as he looked down at Lucas's broken body.

"Damon... please," Lucas whispered, his voice cracking. "Don't do this."

Damon's expression hardened into pure ice, erasing the hesitation instantly. "Goodbye, Lucas."

Damon stepped forward and drove the knife deep into Lucas's chest, plunging the blade all the way to the hilt between his ribs.

Pain exploded through Lucas's torso. Hot blood rushed up his throat, filling his mouth and pouring over his lips. He fell backward onto the carpet, staring up at the grand ceiling lights as his vision began to fade into blackness.

Jessica didn't look away. She smiled as she watched the blood pool around Lucas's chest.

Damon stood over him, wiping a drop of blood off his own sleeve with a cold, disgusted expression.

Lucas tried to breathe, but his lungs filled with blood instead of air. Darkness crept in from the edges of his sight, swallowing the hotel room, the flashing cameras, and the mocking faces of his murderers.

His heart gave a final, weak thud.

Host heart rate zero. Biological life functions terminated.

A cold, synthetic voice chimed loudly, echoing inside the dark emptiness of Lucas's mind.

Host death confirmed. Supreme Revenge System initializing… Rebirth protocol engaged.