The office felt colder than usual.
Maybe it was the air conditioning. Maybe it was the look on every face as Elijah passed — a half-second longer than normal, curious, uncomfortable, veiled behind fake smiles. He heard it in the way people stopped talking when he stepped into the elevator. In the glance the receptionist gave him as she scanned his badge.
Elijah Blackwood, Employee ID: 84372.
He adjusted his tie and stepped into the top floor — Dominic Slade's kingdom of glass and metal. The smell of cologne, leather chairs, and polished steel stung his senses like acid. He knocked twice, crisp and firm, before stepping in.
Dominic was already sitting behind his massive desk, fingers steepled, eyes fixed on the skyline behind Elijah as if it answered to him.
"You're late," he said without looking.
"I didn't have an appointment."
"No, you didn't," Dominic replied, finally turning. "But the word around here is you've had a… rough couple of weeks."
Elijah stood tall. "I need a loan."
Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"
"I need surgery," Elijah said, voice steady. "The family doctor said it's urgent. I was told you might be able to help."
Dominic didn't speak for a moment. He leaned back in his chair, lips twitching in amusement.He had always been the type to enjoy other people's suffering. Elijah thought
Then he laughed.
A deep rumble that reminded him of the horrible things he had done to him in the past for his sick pleasure. The memories made Elijah's skin crawl.
"A tumor?" he said. "Now that's poetic."
Elijah's hands curled into fists behind his back.
Dominic stood, circling his desk like a man inspecting a corpse. "You were always such a romantic, weren't you? Coming into our home. Making eyes at my sister. Whispering promises. And now, look at you — begging."
"I'm not begging," Elijah said tightly. "I'm asking. Like a man. Like someone who has earned his position in this company"
"Earned?" Dominic chuckled. "You think that desk job Gregory gave you was earned? It was for charity, and to protect the family's image."
Silence stretched between them.
Elijah turned to leave.
"Wait," Dominic said casually. "Maybe we can work something out."
Elijah paused, wary. "What does that mean?"
Dominic moved to a sleek silver cabinet, pulled out a file, and slid it across the desk. "There's a data vault belonging to an anonymous group. Off-grid, highly encrypted. I need access."
Elijah frowned. "That's not exactly legal."
Dominic smiled. "Neither is marrying above your station. And yet, here we are."
Elijah didn't touch the file.
"You want me to hack into an anonymous syndicate's system," he said flatly.
Dominic shrugged. "They've got something on me — or more specifically, something I want gone. You break in, get me the files, and I make that little tumor problem disappear."
Elijah studied him. "What happens to me if I get caught?"
"Well," Dominic said, walking back to his seat, "you'll have your dignity. And that's worth something, isn't it?"
Elijah didn't respond.
He took the file. "I'll think about it."
---
He found the location two hours later — an abandoned lot on the edge of downtown, buried under years of graffiti and rot. But beneath the rubble, someone had set up a working line. Shielded servers. Backdoor access ports. It wasn't the first illegal network Elijah had touched — but something about this one felt colder. Too clean.
Still, he needed the money. Needed the surgery. Needed a reason to believe he could fix any of this.
He keyed in the access codes. Bypassed the firewall. Lines of code blurred past his eyes.
**Root Access Requested.**
He hesitated.
Then pressed Enter.
The screen flickered.
**MATCH FOUND: E-07. Welcome back.**
His blood turned to ice.
That phrase.
Again.
Too late, he saw the false loop embedded in the sequence.
Too late, he realized there was no data to steal — it was all bait.
The sirens cut through the air like a scream. Red and blue flashed across the shattered windows above.
Elijah bolted from the terminal, but the building was already surrounded.
"On the ground! Hands where we can see them!"
Dozens of boots stormed the space. Rifles aimed. His body froze. Too many angles. No escape.
He dropped to his knees, hands raised.
As they cuffed him, forced his face against concrete, he saw the blinking camera feed still active behind them.
Streaming live.
The name "Slade" scrolled on one of the open screens.
Of course.
---
Three days passed.
No lawyer.
No calls.
No one from the Slade family came. Not even Lilian.
He sat in a holding cell, lights buzzing overhead, eating food that tasted like cardboard and metal. The guards didn't speak to him. Other inmates just stared. Whispers passed between them. "That's him — I bet he thinks he's better than us because he tricked his way into a rich home. Well he has showed his true colors.Dirt will always remain Dirt no matter what it is served on"
Public disgrace.
Exactly what Dominic wanted.
On the morning of the fourth day, a guard came to his cell.
"You're out."
"What?" Elijah asked, sitting up.
"You have been bailed," the man said with a shrug. " Will you get out or would you like to stay longer? ."
Elijah stepped into daylight for the first time in days. No driver. No press. Just the city, grey and wet.
He walked home.
---
The Slade estate loomed as silent as ever. He entered through the side gate, swiped his card, and stepped in through the kitchen door.
Voices echoed down the hallway.
Laughter. A moan.
He followed the sound, heart in his throat.
The door to the guest lounge was ajar. Light spilled through the crack.
Inside, Jeremy was pressed against Lilian, shirt unbuttoned, his mouth at her neck.
Lilian giggled, fingers digging into his back. "You're much better than my useless husband," she whispered.
Elijah's vision went red.
He slammed the door open with such force it cracked against the wall.
Jeremy jumped back, stumbling. Lilian's scream cut the air.
"Elijah—!"
Elijah grabbed Jeremy by the collar and yanked him across the room, slamming him into the wall.
"You smug bastard!" he shouted, fist colliding with Jeremy's face once, twice, a third time—
"Elijah, stop it!"
Lilian's voice, shrill now.
Blood splattered across the white carpet. Jeremy was groaning, barely upright.
"You think I wouldn't find out?" Elijah hissed, dragging him to the floor. "You've been screwing her behind my back since day one, haven't you?"
"Elijah!" Lilian screamed.
Guards rushed in — but paused, confused, awaiting orders.
She didn't flinch.
She just stood there.
Arms crossed.
Face like stone.
"You're pathetic," she said, loud and clear. "You think beating up Jeremy makes you a man?"
"He was in our house," Elijah said, panting, "in our bed—"
"In my house," she snapped. "And you? You're nothing but a pain in the ass, I can't wait to end this fucking marriage. How dare you come in here acting like a good husband ?
Do you know what your actions have cost me? I am now being referred to as the wife of an ex-convict,a criminal. My biggest mistake was getting married to you Elijah."
I didn't know what to say. The venom in her eyes made my blood grow cold. Not only had she abandoned me in the cell despite my condition. She had also chosen to believe the media over me
Jeremy groaned on the floor, clutching his ribs.
Lilian turned to the guards. "Get him out of here. And make sure he stays out.If I set eyes on him in here, all of you will pay "
"No—" Elijah stepped forward.
She didn't blink.
"You don't belong here Elijah. I'll make sure you get your meds and keep my words even if you didn't keep yours. Goodbye."
And with that, Elijah was dragged back into the storm with an aching heart.
The ceiling above Elijah was cracked, the plaster browning from old water damage. He lay still, arms folded behind his head, the stiff motel mattress creaking under every breath. The silence here was different. Not peaceful. Just empty. No humming servers. No wine glass clinks. No sharp stilettos pacing across marble floors.
He didn't miss it.
He did miss her once — the Lilian from the lake house days. The one who ran barefoot through wet grass and told him her secrets at 2 a.m.
But that woman was dead.
And the man she buried with her? He wasn't staying buried.
Elijah sat up, ran a hand over his face, and swung his legs off the bed. His body ached, but the fire in his chest burned hotter.
He wasn't going to roll over.
He would take the pain. The whispers. The eyes on him like he was rotting.
But he'd do it on his feet.
---
The second he stepped out of the car near Slade Tech, he knew something was off. There were more people than usual — too many cameras, too many vans.
Then came the flashes.
"Mr. Blackwood, are you being investigated for cyber-terrorism?"
"Is it true you were caught hacking into a government facility?"
"Were you working with a rogue syndicate?!"
"Elijah! Is it true your wife kicked you out over an affair with a man?"
That one stopped him mid-step.
He didn't flinch, but his jaw locked. He kept walking, ignoring the barrage. Security pushed back the growing crowd of reporters, but they swarmed like vultures around a corpse.
It wasn't just a scandal anymore.
By the time he reached the main doors, the camera shutters sounded like gunfire.
Inside was worse.
The whispers stabbed sharper than the questions. Employees who used to nod at him barely lifted their eyes. Some didn't even bother hiding their disgust. Others smiled just wide enough to make it sting.
"I heard he grew up in an orphanage… he must have picked up bad habits there"
"Thought he was ex-military…I guess not all soldiers have dignity.*
"Slade's charity case finally burned down the house."
Elijah said nothing. He walked past them like he didn't hear. Like it didn't scrape something raw inside him.
But it did.
Every step was a lesson in restraint.
He reached the executive floor. Two guards stood at Dominic's office doors, arms crossed.
"I need to see him," Elijah said.
"He's busy."
"He'll see me."
They didn't move.
Then, the intercom beside the door beeped. Dominic's voice came through.
"Let him in.."
The guards stepped aside.
Dominic sat behind his desk as if nothing had changed. Pressed suit. White cuffs. A glass of something amber on the table beside him. He didn't even look up.
"You've got ten minutes."
Elijah walked in, slow and steady. "You set me up."
"Mm." Dominic sipped his drink. "Careful with that tone. You sound like someone in denial."
"You sent me into a trap."
Dominic finally looked at him. "I asked you to retrieve data. If you walked into a trap, that's your failure. Not mine."
Elijah narrowed his eyes. "You wanted this. The scandal. The arrest. All of it."
Dominic leaned back in his chair, smile curling like smoke.
"I have to say I'm disappointed. Ex-military, trained by my own father, and your instincts were still that slow?"
He clapped once. "No wonder Lilian's bored."
The silence that followed cracked like ice.
Elijah didn't move. Didn't react.
Dominic smirked. "Now, let's talk business."
"I need the surgery," Elijah said, voice low. "Or at least a loan to finish my treatment."
"I'm afraid your recent misconduct has made that… complicated." Dominic opened a folder on his desk. "The board has reviewed your situation. Given the damage you've done to the company's reputation, they voted for your dismissal."
Elijah's stomach dropped.
"But…" Dominic continued, "out of respect for my dear sister — and the fact that this circus is better contained than fired — I've proposed probation."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Dominic said, eyes glinting, "you either accept your new role — desk-level analyst, no access, no field work, no clearance — or you resign. Quietly. No lawsuit. No payout."
Elijah clenched his fists. "You're burying me."
Dominic smiled. "No, Elijah. I'm doing you a favor. You still have a job. You still have a seat. And most importantly—" he leaned forward, voice cold, "you're still mine to control."
Elijah stared at him for a long, empty moment.
Then he turned without another word and walked out.
---
His new office was a shared corner with peeling paint and a flickering overhead light. The desk was plastic. The chair creaked. A broken drawer lay half open with someone else's crumpled report inside.
Elijah sat. Didn't speak. Didn't move.
Across the room, a junior intern barely looked up. Someone coughed. Somewhere a printer jammed.
The TV on the wall buzzed to life.
Live feed.
Elijah's eyes flicked to the screen just as Dominic stepped onto a polished stage, cameras flashing.
The Slade crest glowed behind him.
A reporter asked, "Is it true your brother-in-law hacked into a criminal network and jeopardized your infrastructure?"
Dominic cleared his throat, adjusting the mic.
"We at Slade Tech would like to offer our sincerest apologies for the misconduct of one of our key staff — Elijah Blackwood."
Elijah's pulse slowed.
"We have no explanation for his actions," Dominic continued, face smooth and rehearsed. "As of now, we are still investigating the full extent of his motives. What we can confirm however is that the Slade board has voted for his demotion. While dismissal was on the table, I personally requested a probationary extension out of compassion — and, of course, out of respect for my sister, Lilian."
Another reporter asked, "So he's still part of the company?"
Dominic smiled. "Let's say… the matter will be handled within the safe walls of our family. Thank you for your discretion."
The feed cut.
The intern across the room looked at Elijah.
Didn't say a word.
Didn't need to.
Elijah sat back in the chair, the weight of it all pressing into his lungs.
He knew now — without question — that the Slades weren't just discarding or demoting him .
They were crafting a villain.
And if that's the role they wanted?
Then that's the one he'd play — until it was time to flip the script.