The rain came hard against the glass that morning, streaking Malcolm Veyra's corner office in thin, silver rivers. The sky above the city was a slab of bruised gray, heavy with the kind of weight that mirrored the mood inside Titan Skincare's headquarters.
Malcolm stood by the window, arms crossed, jaw tight. A cigarette burned low between his fingers, smoke curling lazily upward. He didn't usually smoke before noon. But today wasn't usual.
"Two distributors came back online."
Kade's voice broke the silence. He stood across the room, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable. "The ones we thought we'd pulled for good. They signed back with Eversage last night. Terms improved. Incentives doubled."
Malcolm exhaled a stream of smoke, slow and deliberate. "Of course they did."
"And the rumors," Kade added. "They're losing traction. Engagement's down twelve percent since yesterday. Eversage PR is countering with verified lab results and certified dermatologist endorsements. They're flooding the feeds with proof."
Malcolm turned from the window and stalked toward the table in the center of the room. Spreadsheets and printouts were scattered across it — sales trends, engagement graphs, supplier contracts. The numbers were supposed to show Titan clawing back control. Instead, they mocked him.
"They were supposed to panic," he muttered. "Distributors don't come crawling back when the pressure's on. They don't throw money at the problem — they cut and run."
Kade shrugged slightly. "Whoever's steering this ship isn't panicking."
Malcolm stopped pacing and looked at him. "Whoever's steering this ship isn't normal. This isn't a board of directors making decisions. This is someone who understands how to fight back."
Kade hesitated, then spoke. "You're not wrong. I had someone dig deeper into Eversage's corporate filings. We found something… strange."
Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Strange how?"
"The paper trail doesn't just stop. It's been deliberately buried. Shell companies that dissolve weeks after forming. Board members who don't exist outside of legal documents. A dozen offshore entities routing ownership back and forth like a shell game. It's a labyrinth."
Malcolm's expression darkened. "Someone's hiding."
"Yes," Kade said. "And whoever they are, they knew what they were doing. This isn't just corporate shielding — it's deliberate obfuscation. Most of these documents were altered in the last six months."
Malcolm went still.
Six months. That lined up almost perfectly with Eversage's meteoric rise.
"Which means," Kade continued, "someone tried to bury this company right before it launched. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were hiding from someone."
Malcolm's eyes narrowed. Hiding from me, he thought.
He ground the cigarette into a crystal tray, sparks dying under the pressure of his palm. "So that's why my investigators keep hitting walls. Someone sealed the doors before we even knew they were there."
Kade nodded. "It's not impossible to untangle. But it'll take time. And money."
Malcolm barked a laugh — cold, humorless. "Time and money are the two things I have in abundance."
He walked around the table, the storm outside throwing jagged light across his face. "I built Titan on the bones of competitors who thought they could hide. They all thought their walls would hold. None of them did."
Kade didn't answer. He knew better than to interrupt when Malcolm started talking like this.
Malcolm paused by the window again, watching the rain hammer the glass. "This company didn't come from nothing. You don't build something like that in six months without deep pockets and a deeper mind. Natalie Su and Hendricks Vale?" He waved a dismissive hand. "They're cover names. Puppets. The real operator is behind the curtain — and they're terrified of being seen."
Kade shifted. "So what's the next move?"
Malcolm turned back, his face hardening into something colder than anger. "We stop playing polite."
He walked to his desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a thin black folder. Inside were photos, bios, and dossiers — the faces of people close to Eversage. Marketing heads. Logistics managers. Distribution partners. The people who kept the machine running.
"These are their support beams," Malcolm said, sliding the folder across the table to Kade. "You want to break a house, you don't start with the roof. You start with the foundation."
Kade flipped through the profiles. "You want them bribed?"
"Bribed, pressured, tempted — whatever it takes." Malcolm's voice was low, controlled. "Everyone has a price. If they don't, they have weaknesses. Find them."
Kade nodded. "And if they still don't break?"
Malcolm's gaze sharpened. "Then we ruin them."
For a moment, only the sound of rain filled the office. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air — not shouted, not barked, but delivered with the kind of certainty that came from a man who had ended careers before breakfast.
Kade closed the folder and tucked it under his arm. "I'll get a team moving."
"One more thing," Malcolm added, his tone shifting to something more deliberate. "Put feelers out on the street. We've been thinking too corporate. If I were hiding something this carefully, I'd use back channels — not banks and lawyers. Someone out there knows something. Maybe a supplier, maybe a shipper. Someone saw something they weren't supposed to."
"Understood," Kade said.
Malcolm's gaze drifted back to the city. "We're not looking for Eversage anymore. We're looking for the ghost behind it. And when we find them…" His jaw tightened. "We burn them out of the dark."
It was almost midnight when the next piece of bad news came in.
Malcolm was still in his office, sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, when his assistant appeared in the doorway clutching a tablet like a shield.
"Sir," she said carefully, "you're going to want to see this."
He took the tablet and scanned the report. The numbers were clear — and infuriating. Eversage's online engagement was rising again. Positive sentiment was spiking across major platforms, and two prominent skincare influencers had just posted glowing reviews of the product to millions of followers.
"They countered," Malcolm muttered. "They're not just weathering the storm — they're using it."
The assistant swallowed. "They're… they're calling the smear campaign 'desperation tactics' from outdated competitors. It's going viral."
For a moment, the office was silent. Then Malcolm laughed — low, sharp, and dangerous.
"Outdated," he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like poison. "They think Titan is outdated."
The assistant flinched. "Sir, we're doing everything we—"
"Not everything," Malcolm snapped, tossing the tablet onto the desk. "Not nearly everything."
He stepped closer, voice dropping into a low, deliberate growl. "I want every PR firm we own flooding the channels with counter-narratives. Every influencer under contract doubling down. I want Titan plastered across every beauty feed and billboard by morning."
The assistant nodded frantically. "Yes, sir."
"And get legal on standby," Malcolm added. "We're going to find something — anything — to drag them into court over. If they want to fight, they can do it while bleeding legal fees."
She fled, eager to escape the storm building in the room.
When she was gone, Malcolm pressed his hands to the desk and stared down at the city lights below. They flickered through the rain, countless and cold. Somewhere out there, someone was laughing at him — watching his empire stagger.
They thought they'd buried their trail. They thought that made them safe.
They were wrong.
"Let them hide," he whispered. "Let them think they're untouchable. All it means is they'll scream louder when I tear the mask off."
He straightened, rolling his shoulders back. The frustration that had burned in his chest hours ago was gone now, replaced by something far more dangerous — purpose. The opening shots had been fired. The first moves had been made.
But this wasn't a skirmish anymore.
This was war.