The Tyrant's Return : From Beggar to Sovereign

Chapter 21: The Burning Legacy

The insane laughter of Marcus Vance echoed off the walls of the grand casino hall, sounding like a cackling demon.

He lay in a pool of dark blood and spilled whiskey, his face twisted into a hideous smile. He thought he had won the final round. He thought that by burning the old office building, his family could wipe away the dark crimes of the past forever.

The original ledger was the most important book in the world to Ethan. It contained the real financial records, the secret names, and the signature stamps of every corrupt businessman who had betrayed Ethan’s father three years ago.

If that book turned into black ash, Ethan could never fully prove his family’s innocence to the global supreme council.

Ethan’s face did not show panic, but his eyes turned into two deep pools of absolute, murderous rage. The air around him grew so cold that the nearest rich heirs began to shiver on the floor.

"Cynthia," Ethan said, his voice dropping into a very quiet, dangerous whisper.

"I am here, Supreme Master," Cynthia Thorne replied instantly, stepping forward and bowing her head. Her blood red trench coat rustled softly against her high leather boots.

"Break Marcus’s other hand," Ethan ordered flatly, not even looking down at the giant gang leader anymore. "Lock him in the deepest, darkest basement of your shipping docks. Do not let him see a single ray of sunlight until I return."

"No! Wait! You can't do this!" Marcus screamed, his insane laughter instantly turning into a high pitched yell of pure terror.

But Ethan was already moving. He turned his back on the ruined poker table and marched down the carpeted stairs of the VIP lounge with giant, rapid strides. Behind him, a loud, agonizing crack filled the casino hall, followed by a horrific scream from Marcus as Cynthia's heavy boot carried out the order with absolute precision.

Ethan ran through the broken gold double doors of the casino entrance. He did not wait for his luxury sedan or for Thomas to drive him.

He jumped straight into the driver's seat of Marcus’s custom built, limited edition gold sports car that he had just won at the poker table. He slammed his foot down hard on the gas pedal.

The powerful engine let out a loud, thunderous roar that echoed through the underground parking garage. The gold car shot forward like a bullet from a gun, its rubber tires smoking and screeching violently against the smooth concrete.

Ethan steered the speeding vehicle out into the freezing, rainy night. The streets of Cresthaven Metropolis were blurry as he moved at a terrifying speed, weaving through the regular traffic like a streak of golden light. His hands gripped the leather steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned completely white.

His late father's old office building was located on the edge of the old industrial district. It was a three story brick structure that had been locked up and abandoned ever since his father's tragic death. For three years, the secondary Vance branch had kept guards around it, but Ethan never realized they were searching for the hidden ledger inside the walls.

Now that Ethan had broken their bank accounts, Julian was burning the evidence out of pure, mad desperation.

Ten minutes later, the gold sports car drifted sharply around a wet corner, its brakes groaning as Ethan brought it to a sudden stop right in front of the old building.

Ethan opened the car door and stepped out into the rain. His heart sank deep into his chest.

The three story brick building was already engulfed in a massive, roaring wall of bright orange fire. Giant, angry tongues of flame were bursting straight out of the first floor windows, licking up the sides of the old brick walls.

Thick, heavy black smoke rolled up into the rainy sky like a giant, dark blanket, blocking out the light of the distant streetlamps. The heat coming from the structure was so intense that it dried the rainwater on Ethan’s face from fifty feet away.

Ethan looked up and down the dark, muddy street. It was completely empty. There were no flashing red lights, no loud sirens, and no water hoses. The fire department had not arrived yet.

Julian had clearly used his family's remaining political connections to delay the emergency trucks, giving the fire enough time to turn everything inside into dust.

"Julian Vance," Ethan hissed through his teeth, his fists clenching so hard that his fingernails bit deep into his palms.

He moved forward, stepping onto the cracked sidewalk. The front glass doors of the building had already shattered from the extreme heat, and the main lobby looked like the inside of a burning furnace. Piles of old papers, wooden desks, and synthetic carpets were feeding the hungry flames.

To walk inside was a suicidal move for any ordinary human being. The toxic smoke alone could choke a man’s lungs in less than thirty seconds.

But the original ledger was inside his father’s old private vault on the third floor. It was the only thing that could clear his family’s name and give his sister Lily a peaceful future. Ethan could not stand by and watch his father’s memory get wiped out by a cowardly fire.

He quickly took off his sleek black tuxedo jacket and threw it into the mud. He ripped a long piece of cloth from his white button down shirt sleeve, soaked it thoroughly in a puddle of cold rainwater on the ground, and tied it tightly around his mouth and nose to block the toxic fumes.

His eyes were hard, fixed entirely on the burning entrance. He braced his legs, preparing his body to make a frantic, high speed dive straight through the wall of roaring flames.

The wind howled loudly, blowing a fresh wave of thick black smoke directly into his face. The old wooden beams inside the building groaned and cracked, ready to collapse at any moment. The entire structure was turning into a giant, blazing coffin.

Ethan took a deep, shaky breath through the wet cloth, his muscles tightening like steel springs. He was just about to sprint forward into the bright orange inferno.

But right before his leather boots could leave the edge of the muddy pavement, a sound cut through the loud roaring and crackling of the massive fire.

It was not the sound of burning wood, and it was not the sound of exploding glass. It was a very human sound.

From the third-floor window, Ethan hears a faint, desperate scream.