The Titan War God Returns

The grand living room, heavy with the scent of old money, felt stifling. Iron sat, clicking his pen, the sound a sharp punctuation in the quiet. 

His eyes, fixed on the paper before him, didn't really see the words. It was just a divorce agreement, waiting for his name. 

Nesse, across the polished table, watched him. Her red lips, a stark line against her pale skin, were set. Her royal blue dress seemed to hum with a tension that matched the room. She was young, yes, but those fine lines around her eyes spoke volumes.

Iron, a solid mass in his black suit, seemed oblivious. His jacket buttons strained, a silent testament to his build.

Nesse’s gaze lingered on his wide, bearded face.

"Is there a problem, Iron?" she finally asked, her voice low, almost a murmur. "Something you don't understand?"

He stopped clicking. Looked up, his eyes meeting hers briefly before dropping back to the paper. 

"No, Nesse. Just... taking it all in." He picked up the pen. 

A quick, decisive movement, and his signature was scrawled across the line. Nesse flinched, just a fraction. She wanted it, of course, but a strange flicker crossed her face, a hint of something she hadn't anticipated.

Three years ago, in this very room, another contract. A marriage of convenience, a means to an end for her. She’d found him, a man she thought was ordinary, and he’d played his part well. 

She’d achieved everything she’d set out to do, becoming the city’s most successful woman. Yet, watching him now, a sudden, unexpected pang hit her.

She collected the papers, sliding them back into the brown envelope. "Here you are," she said, her voice carefully neutral. A wry smile touched her lips, but he didn't return it. From her jacket, she produced a cheque, extending it across the table. "This is for you."

Iron’s blank face finally registered surprise. His eyes widened as he read the numbers. He looked up at her, a question in his gaze. "Ten million?" That was twice the amount they originally agreed on.

She offered a small, reassuring smile. "Consider it a bonus. For your dedication towards playing your role."

He nodded once. “Thanks.”

He didn’t smile. Just folded the check once, then again, and slid it into his pocket like it was a receipt from a gas station.

There was a beat of silence, heavy with things unsaid.

“You could stay, you know,” she offered, trying to sound casual. “A few more days. The house might feel... big without you.”

He didn’t answer right away.

She gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “I sound ridiculous. Forget it.”

“No, you don’t,” Iron replied. “You just sound lonely.”

Nesse simply nodded, a false smile on her face. "You're right, of course." She paused, then added, "Always so practical, aren't you?"

He didn't respond. She had thought him an ordinary man, three years ago. She had no idea. She didn’t know he wasn’t. She didn’t know he was powerful. Perhaps even wealthier than she was.

She didn’t deny it. Instead, she looked past him, toward the tall window where the light fell like liquid gold. “It was supposed to be transactional. A marriage for optics, to get me into the CEO seat. Just business. Nothing more.”

“You got what you wanted,” he said gently. “And I got paid. That was the deal.”

Her lips parted to speak, then closed again. Three years ago, she’d found him in a downtown bar—unshaven, unremarkable, and absolutely perfect for a temporary performance. A man with no attachments and no expectations. The kind of man who’d say yes for the right price.

The weight of their shared history settled in the silence, heavy and suffocating. Nesse watched Iron, her eyes tracing the familiar contours of his face, the subtle smile lines around his eyes she had once found so comforting. Now, they felt like a cruel masquerade. The man she knew as her kind, quiet house husband was a stranger. She cleared her throat, the sound a small disturbance in the profound stillness.

"So this is it, then? The end of the show?" she asked, her voice brittle. The casual jab was a poor defense against the ache of betrayal.

Iron met her gaze, his expression unreadable. He didn't flinch at her words. "The curtain falls," he said, his voice a low, steady murmur. He reached for his coffee cup, his movements slow and deliberate, as if performing a ritual for the last time. He set it down with a soft clink that echoed like a final period at the end of a long sentence.

He rose from the table, not with the hurried pace of an exit, but with the quiet dignity of a king abdicating his throne. He walked past her, the scent of his cologne—a mix of sandalwood and something subtly dangerous—stirring a memory of a time when she thought she knew everything about him. He paused at the doorway, his hand on the handle, a final, lingering beat before the close. He didn't look back.

The door closed with a soft, decisive click, and Nesse was left alone with the deafening silence. The emptiness in the room was a physical thing, a cold presence that had taken Iron's place. The quiet indignity of it all was a sharp pain. She walked to the liquor cabinet, her hands trembling as she grabbed the rum. She poured a generous measure, her gaze fixed on the amber liquid sloshing over the rim. She didn't care.

"Fool," she muttered, the word a bitter taste on her tongue. It was aimed at herself, at the blind fool she had been for years. She threw back the drink, the harsh burn a welcome fire against the ice in her veins. As she poured another, she walked to the window, the glass cool against her hot skin. She watched as Iron exited the house, a solitary figure now, walking away from the life they had built. A part of her wanted to scream his name, to run after him and demand an explanation, but the other, more dominant part, the one that had been forged in the ruthless world of business, knew it was too late. All she could do was watch him go.

Iron walked away, but his mind was still in the house. The memory of Nesse's face, a mask of hurt and disbelief, was a persistent echo. He paused at the wrought-iron gates, pulling his phone from his pocket with a practiced motion. He scanned the street, his eyes sharp and alert, his body language shifting from that of a content house husband to a man on a mission. Once he was certain he was alone, he made the call.

"Hades," he said, his voice shedding its gentle facade for a cold, commanding tone. This was the voice that had dismantled empires and silenced threats, the voice Nesse had never heard. "The contract is concluded. I'm out. Let's pick up from where we stopped."

"Oh great leader of Titanomachia, Your fateful servant has eagerly waited for your return. Please, put me to use sir!"

Iron smirked thinking that Hades hasn't changed at all. "Sometimes I wonder if I deserve your loyalty."

"Don't say that sir! It is I who is the unworthy one."

"I've missed this..." Iron recalled the bittersweet past when he ruled the secret organisation, Titan and reigned as the King of the underworld. 

The nostalgic trance ended when the memories of the last days of Titan flashed before his eyes.

Iron clenched his fist, "There is one more thing Hades," his gaze fixed on a distant point, a chilling resolve setting on his features. "I need you to locate and erase a certain individual by the name of Vince Loreson."

"Consider him erased boss!"

Iron nodded to himself, a dry smile touching his lips. 

His time as a house husband was over.

Now, it was time for the King of the Titans to return.