Alex didn't sleep that night.
The words from the voicemail echoed in his head on a loop, whispering every time he closed his eyes.
You don't belong in that seat. And if you don't step down… we'll make sure you never stand up again.
By morning, his mind was running wild with questions. Who sent the message? Was it just intimidation—or something worse? How many people already wanted him gone?
The walls of the estate felt less like luxury now and more like a cage.
He skipped breakfast and walked straight into the library, a sunlit room the size of a school gym, lined with old books and older secrets. He needed answers. And he needed to start somewhere safe. Or at least... somewhere quiet.
His thoughts were still tangled when Callum stepped in, holding two coffees.
"You look like hell," he said, handing one to Alex.
"I feel like it," Alex muttered, accepting the cup.
Callum sat across from him, crossing one leg over the other. "So what's eating you?"
Alex hesitated. He didn't know if he could trust Callum yet. But he had to start trusting someone.
"I got a voicemail last night. No number, no ID. Someone told me to step down. Said if I didn't, I'd be taken out."
Callum didn't flinch. He just sipped his coffee like someone who had heard this kind of thing before.
"I was wondering how long it would take."
Alex blinked. "Wait—you expected this?"
"Of course," Callum said calmly. "You're a young, unknown heir who just inherited a multi-billion dollar empire. There are board members who've been grooming themselves for the throne for twenty years. You think they were going to throw you a party?"
Alex stared at the floor. "They don't even know me."
"That's the problem. You're unpredictable. And powerful now. People don't fear what they understand—they fear what they don't."
Alex took a slow sip of his drink, trying to process it. "So what do I do?"
Callum leaned forward. "You play the game. But smart. That means watching everyone—especially the people close to you. Someone in your circle knew exactly where you were and how to get to you without setting off alarms."
"You think it's someone inside the company?"
Callum shrugged. "Not a matter of if. Just a matter of who."
Alex's stomach tightened.
His circle was small—Elizabeth, Callum, a few assistants, a couple of advisors he hadn't even spoken to yet. Could one of them already be plotting against him?
"I want to know who sent that message," Alex said quietly. "And I want to know fast."
"Good," Callum replied. "That's the right instinct. But you don't go around asking people directly. That's how you end up dead. You let them show you."
Later that day, Alex arrived at the Dawson Tower, this time with a sharper gaze.
He greeted the receptionist, nodded at the executive assistants, shook hands with board members. But inside, he was watching everything. Listening to the tone of voices. Noticing who made eye contact, who didn't. Who smiled too much. Who didn't smile at all.
The energy was different now.
Before, they'd looked at him with disbelief. Now, some looked at him like a challenge. Others like a stain.
The senior leadership meeting was held in a glass-walled conference room on the 44th floor. From here, you could see the whole city stretching out in glass and steel. A fitting place for power games.
Elizabeth was already seated when he arrived, flipping through a file.
"We're reviewing the Westport acquisition today," she said. "And the new AI investment proposal."
Alex nodded. "Anything else I should know?"
She looked up at him carefully. "There's talk about a leak."
His heart jumped. "What kind of leak?"
"Internal emails. Financial data. Someone's been sharing information with external sources—press, competitors, possibly both."
"And you're just telling me this now?"
"We only confirmed it an hour ago."
Callum walked in behind them, overhearing the last sentence.
"Someone's poking holes in the ship," he said, sitting down. "We need to find out who before it sinks."
The meeting began, but Alex barely heard the numbers being read aloud. His mind was elsewhere—on names, faces, behavior. He watched the way each person acted around him, searching for signs of guilt or nerves.
But they were all pros.
No one cracked.
After the meeting, Alex asked Elizabeth and Callum to stay behind.
"I want a full audit of internal communications. Everyone at executive level and up. If someone's leaking, I want to know who. And I want it quiet."
Elizabeth nodded. "We'll start right away."
As she left, Callum paused at the door.
"Keep your friends close, boss," he said with a tired smile. "And your enemies closer."
The estate was quiet again that evening.
Alex sat in the study going through files when his phone vibrated. He picked it up, expecting a call from Elizabeth—or maybe another anonymous threat.
But it was just a text.
From a number he recognized.
Jessica.
Saw you on the news. Cute speech. Didn't know you cleaned up that well.
He stared at the message, unsure what pissed him off more—the sarcasm or the sudden attention now that he had money.
He didn't reply.
But barely a minute later, another message popped up.
Miss me?
He turned off his phone.
He had bigger problems.
At midnight, Alex couldn't sleep again. He left his room and wandered down to the estate's private office wing—one of the rooms he hadn't explored yet. Inside, the walls were lined with old records, business ledgers, and framed photos of his father, James Dawson.
He paused in front of one photo. It was a black-and-white portrait of James shaking hands with a tall man in a military uniform. They looked like allies. But there was something cold in their eyes—like they both knew their friendship had an expiration date.
Beside the photo was a safe.
Alex hesitated, then tried the dial. He didn't know the code.
But part of him itched to find out what was inside.
Behind him, the floor creaked.
He turned sharply.
Elizabeth stood in the doorway, holding a small folder.
"Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."
"You didn't," he said, still watching her carefully.
She held up the folder. "We started the internal scan. And we found something."
Alex took the file and opened it. Inside were printed emails—lots of them—most between high-level staffers. But one stood out.
It was a message forwarded to an unknown address. The content?
A confidential report from the finance team. Dated two days before the press conference.
His eyes narrowed at the signature line.
Howard Crane.
Elizabeth folded her arms. "He's been leaking projections. Quietly. But consistently."
Alex sat down slowly, processing it all.
"He pulled me aside the day of the press event," Alex said. "Told me I needed more than good intentions."
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Guess he had other intentions."
Alex looked up at her. "What do we do?"
"That depends. Do you want to handle this quietly? Or make an example of him?"
Alex leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on the email.
For the first time, he felt the full weight of what power could do.
Not just to him—but through him.
And he realized something.
It wasn't enough to wear the crown.
Sometimes, you had to protect it with blood.
The next morning, Howard Crane arrived at the office as usual.
But when he opened the door to his office, he found a white envelope on his desk.
Inside?
A single sheet of paper.
Termination. Effective immediately.
No explanation.
No negotiation.
Security was already waiting outside the door.
Howard's face went pale as he realized what had happened—and who had done it.
Alex watched from the hallway, silent, unreadable.
As Howard was escorted out, he paused for a second, locking eyes with Alex.
"You think this makes you powerful?" he hissed.
Alex didn't blink. "No. But it proves I'm not weak."
Howard turned away, furious.
But Alex knew better than to relax.
Because as the door shut behind his first traitor...
He had no idea how many more were still smiling in the dark.