Their Little Brother Is the Supreme King

Chapter 009

The sterile silence of the hospital's intensive care wing was finally broken by a sharp, joyous cry. Alice Smiths, her surgical mask dangling from one ear and her face pale from hours of intense concentration, stepped out of the pressurized theater.

"Iris! Ethan! She's awake!" Alice's voice, though weary, carried a melodic triumph.

Iris Smith and Ethan Smith didn't hesitate. They moved as one, rushing into the recovery suite where the air smelled of ozone and high-grade disinfectants. On the bed, Bree Smith lay propped up against a stack of pillows. Her skin was still the color of parchment, but the fierce, indomitable spark had returned to her eyes. The Lethe Virus—the shadow-world's most feared neurotoxin—had been successfully purged from her system by Alice's miraculous hand and Ethan's stabilizing energy.

"Bree... oh, thank god," Iris sobbed. The eldest sister, who acted as the matriarch for the seven, collapsed into a chair by the bedside, her designer blouse wrinkled and stained with the salt of her relief. To the world, she was the iron-willed CEO of the Mosaic Corporation, but here, she was just a sister who had nearly lost her anchor.

Bree reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing Iris's palm. "Don't cry, sister. It takes more than a few hired guns from the Hall of Darknight to keep me down. But... where is he? Where is Ethan?"

Her eyes shifted, landing on the tall, broad-shouldered man standing in the corner. Even in the soft hospital lighting, Ethan radiated a quiet, terrifying power.

"I'm here, Fourth Sister," Ethan said, stepping into the light. For the first time in years, the Supreme King felt a lump in his throat. He had conquered nations and commanded legions of the Guards of Supreme, but the sight of his sister's vulnerability hit him harder than any battlefield wound.

"You look older," Bree coughed, a faint smile playing on her lips. "And you look like trouble. But you're home. That's all that matters. Now, you listen to me... you stay close to Iris. No more disappearing. And for heaven's sake, stay out of the street fights. I can't be bailng you out every week while I'm in a cast."

"I promise, sister," Ethan murmured, though his mind was already calculating the diameter of the crater he was going to leave where the Herman family currently stood. "I'll be on my best behavior."

Alice stepped forward, adjusting Bree's IV drip. "Don't be fooled, Bree. Our little brother has grown some very sharp claws while he was away. But she's right, Ethan. I'll be watching you, too. And believe me, my needles are far more painful than anything the police use."

The moment of family intimacy was shattered by a polite but urgent knock on the door. Mary Hopkins, Bree's tactical assistant, entered with a stack of digital tablets. Her face was grim.

"Governor," Mary said, addressing Bree by her title. "I apologize for the intrusion, but the high command has arrived. Governor Stinson—the chief executive of Ambershire—is here. He is accompanied by Deputy Governor Jeremy Schlesinger and... Julian Herman."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Ethan's eyes became cold, obsidian chips.

A moment later, the door was pushed open by a man in a tailored charcoal suit. This was Chris Stinson, the man who held the ultimate executive power in Ambershire. Behind him was Jeremy Schlesinger, looking pompous and official, and finally, Julian Herman, who wore a look of smug, oily satisfaction that made Ethan's knuckles itch.

"Bree Smith," Governor Stinson said, his voice carrying the weight of a seasoned politician. "It is a relief to see you among the living. The Governor of Veridian has been asking for updates personally. You've done this city a great service by dismantling the Apex Village operation."

"Thank you, Governor," Bree rasped, her eyes narrowing as they landed on Julian. "But I wasn't aware my recovery room was open to members of the families I'm currently investigating."

Jeremy Schlesinger stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Now, now, Bree. We are all adults here. My son-in-law, Julian, is here out of the goodness of his heart. The Herman family wanted to formally apologize for the actions of their rogue uncle, Jeffrey Herman. They had no idea he was involved in such... unsavory business."

Julian stepped toward the bed, bowing slightly. "Indeed, Governor Smith. It is a tragedy. We are horrified that our family name was used to mask such crimes. I am here to offer my full cooperation."

Bree didn't even look at him. "Save it for the deposition, Julian."

Governor Stinson, sensing the tension, tried to pivot the conversation. "Actually, there is another matter. A more... sensitive one. Word has reached my office that you have been reunited with your brother."

"Yes," Bree said firmly. "He is standing right there."

Jeremy Schlesinger made a theatrical show of looking at Ethan. He sighed, shaking his head with feigned pity. "That is the problem, Bree. We all want to believe in miracles. But the law requires facts. And the facts we've uncovered... they paint a very different picture."

Mary Hopkins opened a file on her tablet, her hands shaking slightly. "Governor... an anonymous whistleblower sent a packet of documents to the department an hour ago. It includes classified records from the North Sea maritime authority."

She held up the screen. It showed a series of grainy, black-and-white photographs. One showed a malnourished boy with a distinctive birthmark on a rocky beach. The next showed a forensic report from a labor camp on Shark Island in the North Sea, dated twelve years ago.

"The report states," Mary whispered, "that the prisoner known as 'Subject E-7'—identified as the boy from the Ambershire kidnapping—suffered a fatal skull fracture during a storm. He was buried at sea. According to these records, the real Ethan Smith has been dead for over a decade."

A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. Iris gasped, clutching her chest. Alice looked at the screen, her medical mind racing, looking for a flaw in the data.

Bree looked at the documents, then at Ethan. "This is a lie. A fabrication."

"Is it?" Julian Herman asked, his voice dripping with false concern. "Or is it possible, Governor, that you were so blinded by grief that you fell for a professional impostor? We have intelligence suggesting this man is actually a high-level mercenary from the Darkshadow organization, sent to infiltrate the Smith family and use your political influence to clear a path for a rival cartel."

Jeremy Schlesinger nodded gravely. "Governor Stinson, we cannot have a suspected foreign agent standing in a secure medical facility next to a top-ranking official. For the safety of the city—and for the protection of the Smith sisters—this man must be taken into custody for identity verification and interrogation."

Chris Stinson looked troubled. He was a man of the law, and the documentation looked disturbingly official. "I'm sorry, Bree. But if there is even a shadow of a doubt about his identity, I cannot ignore it. Officers!"

Two armed guards from the Governor's personal security detail stepped into the room, their hands moving toward their holsters.

Iris Smith stood up, her eyes blazing with a fury that matched Ethan's. "You will not touch him! If you want to arrest my brother, you'll have to arrest me first! This is a pathetic frame-up by the Herman family because they know they're finished!"

Julian smiled, a thin, cruel line. "The truth can be painful, Miss Smith. But a dead boy can't come back to life. This man is a ghost, a fraud, and a threat."

Ethan remained perfectly still. He didn't look at the guards, or the Governor, or the documents. He looked only at Julian Herman.

"You've spent a lot of money on these forgeries, Julian," Ethan said, his voice as calm as the eye of a hurricane. "The Shark Island records... the 'Subject E-7' file... it's a nice touch. But you forgot one thing."

He turned his gaze to Governor Stinson. "Governor, if I were an impostor, I would be running right now. Instead, I'm going to stay. Because in ten days, the Herman family is going to confess to every single lie they've told today. And they're going to do it while kneeling in the mud outside this very hospital."

"Enough of this arrogance!" Jeremy Schlesinger barked. "He's a suspect! Take him!"

The guards moved forward, but Mary Hopkins stepped in their way, her hand on her service weapon. "Wait! Governor Stinson, look at the bottom of the last page of that file."

The Governor scrolled down. There was a stamp from the Eagleeye Department—the highest intelligence agency in Solinar.

"It says the file was 'Declassified by Order of the Deputy Governor,'" Mary pointed out. "Why would the Eagleeye Department have a file on a random kidnapped boy unless there was a cover-up involved?"

Ethan smiled. "Indeed. Why would a local kidnapping be classified as a state secret? Unless the people who kidnapped me were working for the very people who now claim I'm dead."

He looked at Jeremy Schlesinger, whose face was beginning to pale.

"I'm not going anywhere, Governor," Ethan said to Stinson. "I will cooperate with any 'investigation' you want. But I suggest you look very closely at who provided these papers. Because when the Supreme King demands an accounting, no amount of forged paper will save the liars."

Julian Herman's smile faltered. He had expected Ethan to fight, to prove his "mercenary" nature. Instead, the man's terrifying composure was starting to make the room feel very, very small.