Morning came with rain tapping against the glass walls of his penthouse. It should have been calming. It wasn't. Adrian stood shirtless in the kitchen, coffee mug warm in his hand, his thoughts cold.
He hadn't slept. The voice from last night still lingered in his head. Deep. Familiar. Haunting.
But not impossible.
Jackson Morrow had been presumed dead seven years ago. The media said his yacht exploded off the coast of Amalfi. Only pieces of wreckage were ever recovered. Jackson had been Adrian's silent partner. Not officially listed in the company, but his fingerprints were on every major move Adrian made in the early years.
The man was a ghost in business and a phantom in real life. Charming when he wanted to be. Deadly when he needed to be.
If he was back, it meant only one thing.
Someone had awakened more than just Adrian's past.
Adrian pulled out his phone and dialed a number buried in his old memory.
"Who is this?" the woman on the line answered groggily.
"Tell Mikhail I'm back."
A pause.
"Name?"
"Hayes."
The line cut. No goodbyes.
That was expected. Mikhail didn't do greetings or warnings. Only deals. And vengeance. The kind of man you paid in information, not money.
Adrian took a slow sip of coffee. The game had begun. But he wasn't playing checkers.
He was building a chessboard no one else could see.
Back at Hayes Global, Emily was already at her desk when Adrian walked in. She looked up, startled, but didn't ask why he arrived so early. Her professionalism was a shield, but Adrian could tell she had questions. Good. It meant she was paying attention.
"Pull the files on the Lucien Foundation," he said, pausing by her desk.
She frowned slightly. "That's Naomi's father's charity."
"I know. I want their last five years of donor data, acquisition targets, and board meeting minutes."
Emily didn't argue. "You'll have it by noon."
He nodded and walked to his office. The moment the door closed behind him, he exhaled slowly.
Naomi's father had played the respectable role all his life. But Adrian had always suspected the Lucien Foundation was more than just a charity. The numbers had never quite added up.
Maybe he hadn't wanted to see it before. Now, he'd see everything.
He logged into his private system, opened the encrypted folder, and uploaded a file labeled:
"Marcus_Insurance.pptx"
Inside was a step-by-step outline of how Marcus funneled company money to fuel a private tech startup he never disclosed. It wasn't just betrayal. It was premeditated theft.
Adrian added one line at the bottom of the file:
"This is just the beginning."
And then he hit SEND.
Anonymous inbox. To a reporter hungry for blood.
By 4:00 PM, the news would break.
And Marcus's empire would begin to crack.
All Adrian had to do was wait.
****
The news broke at exactly 3:58 PM.
"Hayes Global CFO Linked to Undisclosed Startup Scandal," the headline screamed across every major business network. Screens in the office lobby flickered with Marcus's grinning face, now caught under the word "Fraud."
The silence in the executive floor was palpable. Adrian stood by his office window, coffee in hand, watching employees cluster around monitors. Whispers filled the air like smoke.
He didn't smile. He didn't need to.
The first domino had fallen. But he knew better than to assume Marcus would crumble easily. Marcus was a snake. Cornered snakes didn't die. They bit harder.
Emily walked in without knocking, tablet in hand, her expression unreadable.
"He's on his way here," she said. Adrian turned to face her.
"Marcus?"
She nodded. "Ten minutes out. He's pissed."
"Let him be. Let the board see him rage."
Emily tilted her head. "You're using this to shift sentiment."
"I'm using this to remind them who they should be afraid of."
She smirked. "You're different."
Adrian didn't reply.
****
Nine minutes later, Marcus burst through the office doors. His face was flushed, hair messy, tie yanked halfway down his chest. He looked like a man spiraling, and Adrian made sure to look calm when he saw him.
"What the hell did you do?" Marcus roared.
Adrian gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Sit. Yell again and I'll have security escort you out."
Marcus slammed his fist on the table instead. "You think I don't know this came from you? You leaked half-truths and speculation. I will sue you, Adrian."
Adrian met his eyes. "You will shut up and listen."
The room went cold.
"You wired money into a startup registered in your girlfriend's name. You used shell companies to launder the transaction trail. You thought no one would ever connect it because I trusted you enough to look the other way. That trust is gone."
Marcus laughed, but it was dry. "You think the board's going to side with you over me? You just came back from a sabbatical. You're unstable."
Adrian leaned forward. "Try me."
The two men stared at each other. Then, Adrian slid a thin folder across the desk.
"Sign this. It's a board-initiated audit. You refuse, and you look guilty. You sign, and you bleed. Either way, you lose." Marcus stared at it.
Then, in a voice that dropped all the bravado, he said, "Naomi knows." Adrian didn't flinch.
"She knows this is more than a board game. She knows you're out for blood."
"Good," Adrian said. "She always loved drama."
****
That evening, Adrian returned home to find an envelope taped to his door.
No stamp. No address. Just his name in thick black ink.
Inside was a single Polaroid. Naomi. Standing beside his uncle Arthur. Smiling. Shaking hands with a man whose face Adrian hadn't seen in over a decade.
Jackson Morrow.
Alive. Not just alive. Present. Here. And in Naomi's inner circle. Adrian felt the room tilt. He had been played. Again. Or maybe this was the real game. He sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, and called Emily.
"I need you to dig into Jackson Morrow. Everything. Where he's been. Who he's with. Start with Naomi's travel history."
"Now?"
"Now."
She didn't ask why. She only said, "Yes, sir."
Adrian dropped the phone and stared at the photo again. There was something wrong with Jackson's smile. It wasn't the usual cocky smirk. It was cold. Calculated. Directed at the camera. As if he knew Adrian would be the one
looking.
And just beneath the image, scribbled in the corner, were five chilling words:
"Next time, play for keeps."