The System Rise: Shepherd Nexon's Return

The music inside Club X was loud, but not the kind of loud that made you dance. It was the kind that sat heavy in your chest, like it did not care if you liked it or not. Lights flickered in lazy colors above the floor. They moved across faces that looked more tired than thrilled. Shepherd Nexon stood behind the bar with a half-dirty rag in one hand and a glass in the other.

He wiped the counter again even though it was already clean. He was not thinking about drinks or tips. He was thinking about how long he could keep pretending this life made sense.

“Back room is flooding again,” someone shouted from the DJ booth.

It was the manager. He always sounded annoyed even when he wasn’t. Shepherd did not respond. He looked at his phone instead.

There was a message notification glowing on the screen. The name on it made his stomach twist. Before he could open it, the phone began to buzz in his hand.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He picked up.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end did not belong to anyone he knew. It was flat and dry, like someone reading from a script.

“Is this Mr Shepherd Nexon?”

His back straightened. “Yes.”

“I am calling from Saint Alden General Hospital. Your sister, Zoya Nexon, was admitted to the emergency unit less than twenty minutes ago.”

Shepherd’s throat closed. He leaned against the bar. “What happened?”

“She experienced a sudden cardiac event. Her oxygen levels dropped fast. We have stabilized her for now, but she needs emergency surgery to repair damage from severe arrhythmia.”

“How bad is it?” Shepherd asked, his voice no longer steady.

The line crackled a little before the voice answered.

“Very bad. Without surgery, she will not survive the night.”

“I am coming right now.”

“There is one more thing you should know before you arrive…”

But Shepherd was already moving. He dropped the rag on the counter, grabbed his coat from the wall hook, and walked out without another word. The manager yelled something behind him, but it did not matter.

Outside, the cold air hit him like a slap. His boots slammed against the wet sidewalk as he ran.

The hospital smelled like cleaning spray and something worse underneath. It always did.

Shepherd did not need a nurse to guide him. He had walked this path before, too many times. Zoya’s room was on the fourth floor. Room 406. The elevator felt too slow, so he took the stairs two at a time.

He burst through the door like someone escaping a fire.

Zoya was there.

She was seventeen, but right now she looked ten years younger. Her skin was pale and shiny with sweat. Tubes were in her nose, wires taped to her arms and chest. A soft beep came from the heart monitor. Her eyes were shut tight.

Shepherd fell to his knees next to the bed.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

Her hand was cold when he took it. Her fingers twitched just once. A tiny sound came from her throat, like she wanted to speak but could not.

Tears burned the back of his eyes.

“I’m going to get the money,” he said, his voice breaking. “I swear, Zoya. Whatever it takes.”

The door opened behind him. Shepherd turned his head.

A doctor walked in with tired eyes and a clipboard pressed close to his chest. He looked like he had seen too many nights like this.

“Shepherd Nexon?” he asked gently.

“Yes. I’m her brother.”

The doctor nodded. “We have done all we can to keep her stable, but the arrhythmia is aggressive. She needs surgery within the next few hours.”

“How much?” Shepherd asked.

The doctor looked at the floor.

“One hundred and fifty thousand. Paid in full before the procedure.”

Shepherd stood. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m afraid I am. The hospital cannot authorize surgery like this without payment.”

“There’s no help? No emergency insurance?”

“Not for private cardiac care,” the doctor said. “There are rules. I wish I could change them.”

He did not wait for more questions. He nodded once and walked away, leaving Shepherd standing there with nothing but his sister and a number too high to reach.

---

The room felt like it was closing in.

Shepherd turned back to Zoya. Her breathing was shallow. Her small chest moved like she was fighting just to stay alive. He squeezed her hand again, then let go, not wanting to wake her with the shaking in his fingers.

He stepped out into the hallway and pulled out his phone. There was only one name he could think of. One person who had the kind of money that could fix this.

Arielle.

He searched her contact and tapped call.

It rang once.

Twice.

Then stopped.

Declined.

His chest tightened. He hit call again.

Straight to voicemail.

Shepherd leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. His knees pulled close to his chest. His eyes burned, but no tears came this time. Only heat. Only frustration.

He stood again. His fists clenched.

If she would not take the phone, he would just have to pay her a visit. He had not forgotten the gate code at the Sinclair estate. and if they altered it, he would cry out till somebody heard him.

He dashed down the hall, and did not even bother to say good-bye to the duty nurse. His breath came out in cold clouds as he ran outside to the train station.

---

The Sinclair property was a castle on a hill,it had been a pity gift from Arielle's father so they could move out of their studio apartment. On the edges were tall trees. The gate was of iron, black, and was twisted with gold. It had seemed to Shepherd magical. It now resembled a cage.

He remembered the last time he was here, when it was still his home. The weight of it all hit him—those moments of familiarity that now felt like ghosts. He had just finished two grueling ten-hour shifts at the bar, muscles sore and mind foggy, only to rush to get Zoya's new prescription, which had nearly doubled in price.

He had walked through the door, expecting nothing more than a quick break, maybe a brief moment of peace. What he walked into, though, shattered everything.

Arielle—his supposed wife—was I'm the middle of a passionate sex with Darion Creed, her ex-boyfriend, in the very bed they had once shared. The same sheets, the same comforter—now stained with betrayal.

Rage boiled up inside him, raw and uncontrollable. He couldn’t think straight. Fists clenched, he moved toward Darion, who was wearing a smug look and didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. A savage beating followed—fury taking over, each punch landing like an explosion. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing ever felt like enough with Arielle.

When he was done, when the anger had left his body, he thought maybe she would show some remorse, maybe she’d see the weight of her betrayal. Instead, she had looked at him with disgust and anger, as though he was the one who had wronged her.

"Throw him out." Her voice had been ice-cold, the final blow to his heart. "Never let him back in without my permission, useless piece of trash."

Not a word of apology, not a shred of regret. The only thing she offered him was dismissal. And just like that, Shepherd’s world had crumbled. 

But now he was here for her assistance. Just the thought made him feel awful but his pride or hurt feelings didn't matter the person who did was Zoya

He walked to the intercom. Hit the button.

The voice of the old security guard came through crackling. “Name?”

“Shepherd Nexon..”

A pause.

Then, You are not permitted on this property.

I understand but it's important I talk to her.. Just tell her it is about Zoya. She’ll understand.”

“I'm afraid I can not do that sir. Please leave I don't want to call backup on you.”

“Well,I am not leaving until I speak to her.”

The voice heaved a sigh. She is not even here.

Shepherd froze. “Then where is she?”

“Sinclair mansion. . Her engagement to Darion Creed.”

Shepherd gasped. “Engagement?”

To Darion Creed.

It was as though he had been punched in the chest.

Shepherd looked through the gate. He stood still a moment. Then he turned and went down the hill. It had begun to rain again, very slowly. But he knew he couldn't give in just yet