The sun cut through the thick blinds like a silent judge, casting bars of golden light across the marble floor. Elias Thorne once known as Mr. Dime sat quietly in the leather chair of his penthouse office, fingers steepled under his chin. His tailored gray suit clung to his body like a second skin, but beneath that sophistication simmered a quiet fire.
He was tired but not weary.
Over the past few days, since the scandal with the Duchess Corporation's rep and the revelation of Magritte, things had escalated rapidly. His name had been dragged through backroom whispers and gossip columns. "Disgraced heir returns to smear the family legacy." "Affair at Draxton's top." "The duchess scandal Thorne exposed."
But Elias knew the truth, and he had something none of them did: foresight, a cold-burning will, and a mind sharpened by years of invisibility.
They had underestimated him.
He picked up a manila folder from his desk, flipping through the crisp pages. Jude had gathered the latest intelligence: a set of internal emails, suspicious transactions, and a meeting invite sent to a private inbox from one of the board members who'd previously shown him nothing but smiles.
"Meeting with Duchess Corp rep Magritte at 11:30 PM. Location: Crimson Lounge."
They thought he wouldn't find out.
Magritte walked into the dimly lit bar like she owned it. And perhaps she did. Her dress, obsidian velvet, clung like smoke to her frame. A woman of deliberate elegance and veiled power, she scanned the booth until she saw him Dexter, sipping a dirty martini like a man who'd already won.
"You're late," he said, without standing.
"I had to pass three layers of security to ensure I wasn't followed. Unlike you, I don't play sloppy," Magritte replied, sliding into the booth across from him.
Dexter smirked. "So, our little show at the gala... You played your part well."
She shrugged. "Thorne is sharper than I expected. But he's still... fractured. He doesn't remember the boat. Yet."
Dexter leaned in. "Good. As long as he's unsure of who he really is, we can still control the narrative."
"But you forget," she said, her eyes gleaming, "control is a temporary illusion. He'll remember soon."
Dexter waved her off. "He's a puppet. And we have the strings."
Back to Present Draxton Penthouse
"Strings," Elias murmured aloud, placing the file back down. "Let's cut them."
A knock sounded on the door.
"Come in," he said.
Jude entered, tablet in hand, face composed as ever. "The internal report you requested is ready. Also, Lewis found something."
"Let's hear it."
Jude handed him the tablet and began explaining, "The Duchess rep her real name is not Elena Greaves. She's Magritte Voltaire. Her father was once a silent shareholder in Draxton. There was a fallout. It didn't end well. She's here for more than scandal."
Elias's eyes didn't blink.
"Dig deeper," he said. "And prepare a public-facing initiative. I want to turn this scandal into profit. If they want to play dirty, I'll sell them the mud."
Jude raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"
Elias stood. "A new charity arm. The 'Thorne Reclaim Foundation.' For rebuilding reputation, reforming leaders, and empowering whistleblowers. We're announcing it tomorrow. They want to paint me as the villain, let's become the hero of the fallen."
Jude smiled for the first time. "Excellent move."
Later that day, Elias entered the boardroom unannounced. A heated discussion was taking place between three board members Mr. Holloway, Ms. Price, and none other than Dexter.
"...he's reckless," Price hissed. "We can't trust someone who just returned from the grave and already has the media by the throat."
"And yet," Elias said, voice calm and booming, "you trusted a man who's hidden thousands in offshore accounts to draft our last financial strategy."
Everyone froze.
He dropped a folder on the table. "That's from your private server, Dexter. I have ten more. Want me to read them?"
Dexter's lips parted, but Elias didn't wait.
"I know about the Crimson Lounge. I know about the ghost transactions. And I know Magritte isn't just a representative. She's your saboteur. But here's what you didn't expect: I don't care what you say about me. I care what the world sees."
He turned to Holloway and Price. "You're free to call for a vote of no-confidence. But when you do, I will make every audit public. And we both know your reputations will sink faster than a broken yacht."
Silence. Then Price slowly closed her folder and looked away.
Dexter's face was pale.
New Scene: Private Balcony Night
Elias stood at the edge, city lights sprawling like galaxies below.
Lewis joined him. "They'll come again. Smarter this time."
"I hope so," Elias replied. "Let them keep coming."
"You're enjoying this," Lewis observed.
Elias didn't deny it.
"I was buried for twenty-five years," he said, voice quieter now. "Everyone assumed I was dead, or a ghost, or worse a shadow of my father. But they were wrong."
He looked Lewis in the eyes.
"I'm just getting started."