The screen flickered to life. A news anchor, smiling with practised warmth, spoke through the static tension.
"Good evening, and welcome to Channel 9 News. Our top story tonight: the Maddox Corporation, long a pillar in the city's business community, has announced a new chapter in its legacy. In an exclusive interview earlier today, Thomas Maddox, the newly appointed CEO, discussed his plans for the company's future."
Liam didn't need to see the rest. His hands tightened around the glass of tap water he'd grabbed from a convenience store, the condensation cold against his skin.
The room was small, cheap, and smelled faintly of dust and bleach. His eyes stayed locked on the screen, his body frozen in place.
Kieran Maddox.
His cousin. The one who had always been the golden child, the one who smiled at the right moments, who spoke with just enough confidence to make people believe. And now he was wearing his father's crown like it was a god-given right.
Liam's jaw tightened. The name Maddox was supposed to mean something, had meant something back when his father ran things. Back when the empire had been built on long hours and sharp deals. He was supposed to be a part of that. Supposed to be his successor, not Kieran.
The TV flickered again as the interview segment began.
Kieran, smiling too wide, sat across from a well-groomed host. His voice was smooth, rehearsed.
"As the new head of Maddox Corp, I intend to take the company to new heights. My late uncle's vision was always clear, growth, innovation, and... most importantly, trust." He paused, eyes drifting toward the camera, voice dropping to a near-whisper. "The trust of family."
Liam's stomach twisted. He could hear the words, but they felt like nails scraping across something soft.
There was a slight pause before his cousin spoke again, eyes glimmering with an arrogance that made Liam's teeth itch.
"Of course, this transition wouldn't be possible without the unwavering support of my family... and the sacrifice of my cousin Liam."
His voice was sharp now, just enough for the camera to catch the edge. "We all know how much he gave up for the company. It's a tragedy, really. But sometimes... sometimes, sacrifice is necessary for the greater good."
The words slammed into Liam's chest like a punch. The glass in his hand trembled before he set it down with a dull clink. He knew exactly what his cousin was doing.
The smirk was there, hidden under the carefully practiced sympathy. Kieran had made him the scapegoat. Made him the villain in a story they were spinning to the world.
Liam leaned forward, eyes locked on the TV as the camera zoomed in on Kieran's face. The way his lips curled in that perfect, controlled smile, it was everything Liam hated. Everything he'd fought against.
"Liam," the host said, a voice of concern, "we understand that his passing left you with a difficult decision. But now that the company is in capable hands, how do you feel about your cousin's role as the new CEO?"
Liam snorted, the bitterness rising in his throat. He'd been left with nothing. And now, they were turning his father's death into a show, parading it for the world to see. They weren't even trying to hide the fact that they were using his absence to climb higher. To take what was his.
Kieran leaned in, the gleam in his eyes sharper than ever.
"I think the world knows Liam was... well, he was never really cut out for this, was he?" His tone dripped with mock concern. "Some people are meant for business, and others... others just get lost along the way."
The words cut through him like glass. He gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.
"Get lost along the way"
That was the kind of line that would stick. That would burn into people's memories, and it would work. People would forget him, they'd remember Kieran. The golden boy. The one who'd stepped up when it counted.
Liam's heart beat hard in his chest. He wanted to throw something. He wanted to scream at the screen, to shatter the glass and wipe that smile off Kieran's face. But his voice felt like it was stuck in his throat, held there by a pressure he couldn't push past.
He knew he should be angry. Knew that everything he'd worked for, everything he'd earned, was being stolen from him.
But it wasn't just rage that burned inside him. It was something darker. A cold, hollow feeling that spread through his limbs, leaving him numb.
As the interview continued, Thomas started talking about future plans, his face flashing across the screen in polished suits and perfectly pressed collars.
Liam switched off the TV, and the silence filled the room like an oppressive weight.
He stood up, hands shaking. His legs were still sore from the crutches, but he ignored the pain. He moved toward the small kitchenette, took a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet, and cracked it open with a twist of his wrist.
The burn hit his throat in a sharp sting, but it did little to ease the rage bubbling beneath the surface. He poured a second shot, swallowed it, and then crushed the bottle in his hand. It didn't shatter. Not yet. But it would, soon.
He wanted to smash everything.
Liam closed his eyes, and the weight of everything hit him like a flood. He hadn't been enough. His father's business had passed him by without a glance, and now they were erasing him. Turning his back on everything he'd fought for.
But the system was still there. Still watching. A whisper in the back of his mind. The game had begun. He had to move, had to act. But how? The cards weren't on his side.
The system... no, it wasn't enough just to use it for petty revenge. That's what they were doing, using him for their own purposes. But he could flip the board. He could take back what was his. The game was still in play, even if the odds were stacked against him.
He had one shot.
Liam staggered to the couch, fell onto it, and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts were scattered, pieces of a puzzle he couldn't fit together.
The system didn't care about his grief. Didn't care about his pain. All it cared about was the move, and he couldn't waste time grieving for something that had already been lost.
Pawn to King protocol activated.
He'd been thrown away like a discarded piece of flesh. Now, he was going to make them regret it.
He wasn't the victim. Not anymore.
There was nothing left but the game.
He grabbed his phone, keyed in the number he'd been avoiding for days, and hit call.
It rang three times. Then a voice answered, cool and sharp.
"Yeah?"
Liam exhaled slowly.
"We need to talk."