It rained that night not the soft drizzle that blessed gardens and whispered over rooftops. It was a cold, biting downpour that slammed against the windows of the Draxton penthouse like a war drum. A storm was brewing, and Elias Thorne felt it deep in his bones.
Standing alone by the window, his reflection barely visible through the rain-smeared glass, Elias knew the board wouldn't stay quiet. Power wasn't taken without consequence. He had humiliated Dexter, exposed financial crimes, and threatened the fragile egos of legacy shareholders. The war hadn't started yet but the first blow had been landed.
Behind him, Jude entered without knocking. His face was grim.
"They're moving faster than expected."
Elias turned. "Who?"
"Dexter. Holloway. Price. And two others. They've summoned an emergency audit. Not company-wide just you."
Elias's eyes darkened. "They want to isolate me. Strip me of leverage before I solidify public goodwill."
"Exactly."
"What about the Foundation launch?"
"Going viral. The press is split. Some think it's a PR stunt. Others say it's brave."
"Good," Elias said. "Let them guess."
"But there's more."
Jude stepped closer and lowered his voice.
"They've brought someone in. An independent investigator. Magritte's behind it. She's... dangerous."
Two levels beneath the glittering façade of Draxton Tower was a secure records vault coded, sealed, forgotten by most. Elias, dressed in a gray coat, descended the concrete stairwell with Lewis by his side. A contact had tipped him off that something was hidden here something about the original Thorne inheritance.
"Why here?" Lewis asked. "You should be above ground preparing your statement."
"Because answers aren't found where the spotlight shines," Elias replied.
They reached the rusted security door. Elias entered a six-digit passcode, followed by a thumb scan.
The door hissed open.
Inside, thick silence coated every surface. Dust danced in flashlight beams. Filing cabinets, some marked in fading ink from three decades past, lined the walls. Elias moved to one labeled "T13 SEA ESTATES / LIABILITY CLAIMS.
He pulled the drawer.
Documents tumbled out maps, wills, water damage reports. And in the center, an envelope sealed in wax. The old Thorne crest.
He broke the seal.
Inside, a letter written in a delicate hand.
To Elias, if you return.
Your death was never yours. The ship was never meant for you. There was another passenger. Find the boy. Follow the island coordinates. Trust no one. Not even your own blood.*
Elias stared at the letter for a long moment.
"What is it?" Lewis asked.
Elias folded the letter carefully. "The accident was staged. I wasn't supposed to die but someone else was."
The boardroom was full. Rain clung to the windows like sweat on glass. Cameras were installed, papers strewn, lawyers seated. The independent investigator had arrived.
She wore a white blazer over an ink-black suit, no jewelry, hair tied back like she hated vanity. Her name: **Neriah Sand**.
Dexter introduced her smugly. "Ms. Sand is known for her objectivity. She uncovered the Aryton scandal in Geneva. And she's here to determine if Mr. Thorne is fit to lead."
Elias nodded politely.
Neriah looked him over. "Mr. Thorne, before we begin, I want to say something."
Everyone froze.
"I don't care about politics. I don't care about legacies. My allegiance is to truth and law. If you're guilty, I will find it. If you're clean... I'll protect you more fiercely than any board vote ever could."
For the first time, Elias looked curious.
"Then let's begin," he said.
Over the next four hours, Neriah grilled Elias. Every scandal, transaction, photograph, and offhand comment was analyzed. She questioned his memory lapses, his connections to Magritte, and his foundation's funding.
"I don't remember the night on the boat because I wasn't in control of my body. I was drugged. Used."
"Do you have proof?"
"No. But I'm working on it."
She paused. "Why did you return now?"
"I didn't choose to," Elias said, voice tightening. "I woke up. The world just didn't expect me to."
"You've made powerful enemies."
"I've made promises to the powerless. That tends to upset dynasties."
She leaned back, folding her arms. "You don't fear losing?"
"I've lost before. Everything. When you come back from that, fear changes shape."
She didn't smile. But she wrote something down.
Magritte stood near the edge, her heels balanced on the slick rooftop ledge. A cigarette glowed in the wind. Dexter joined her.
"He's not cracking," she said.
"Then we apply more pressure," Dexter replied. "We leak the Magritte story. Paint him as a womanizer who exploits charity for cover. Let the public see what we want them to see."
Magritte flicked ash. "And when that doesn't work?"
"Then we remind him of the boy. The one he forgot."
She froze.
"You said we buried that."
Dexter smiled. "Maybe it's time to dig it up."
Scene Shift: Elias's Penthouse
Elias stared at an old photograph. He had found it in the vault. The same coordinates were scratched on the back as mentioned in the letter. Beside him was the shadow of a boy face turned, nameless.
Jude entered quietly.
"They've leaked the affair scandal again. This time with edited footage."
Elias exhaled. "They're pushing."
"What now?"
"We push harder."
He turned around, fire in his eyes.
"Book a trip. To the island in the letter. I want to know who died in my place."
"And Magritte?"
"She wants war. I'll give her something worse."