The Kane family's name glittered across the towering marble entrance of the Astoria Grand Hotel, every letter a promise of wealth, influence, and untouchable prestige. Tonight, the Kane ballroom shone brighter than ever — crystal chandeliers dripped gold light, champagne towers sparkled like frozen waterfalls, and the air was heavy with the scent of imported roses and money.
Damien Kane stood in the center of it all, his tuxedo perfectly tailored, his dark hair swept back in that effortless way that seemed to make half the women in the room sigh. He smiled — the kind of smile people called "the Kane charm," the smile that made business sharks lower their guard and old money families hand over their daughters.
This was meant to be his night.
By morning, the press release would announce him as the new CEO of Kane Industries, stepping into his father's seat — the youngest in the company's century-long history. Tonight was the celebration before the crown was officially placed on his head.
His hand rested at the small of a woman's back.
Her.
Ava Monroe. His girlfriend of three years, the woman he thought he would marry. She was all elegance tonight — her satin gown a deep emerald that clung to her like it had been painted on, her blonde hair pinned in soft waves that brushed her bare shoulders. When she smiled up at him, he felt that familiar rush in his chest.
"You've been shaking hands all night," she teased softly. "Do I need to remind you that I'm still here?"
He chuckled, brushing his lips against her temple. "You're impossible to forget."
Over her shoulder, his older brother, Julian Kane, stood with a drink in hand, watching them. The smile on Julian's face didn't quite reach his eyes. Damien noticed it — a flicker of something — but dismissed it. His brother had always been a little… complicated. Competitive.
"Julian," Damien greeted as they approached. "You're unusually quiet tonight."
Julian's smirk deepened. "Just letting you enjoy your moment, little brother. After all… not every day you get to wear the crown."
There was something in his tone — smooth, almost affectionate, but with an undertone Damien couldn't place.
A waiter approached, holding a tray of champagne flutes. Julian plucked one and handed it to Damien personally. "For the man of the hour."
Damien raised the glass. "Thanks."
The three of them clinked glasses. Ava's diamond bracelet glittered under the lights as she tipped her flute to her lips.
Damien drank.
It was only after the second swallow that the strange heaviness began to curl in his limbs. He frowned slightly, rolling his shoulders as if to shake it off.
"You alright?" Ava asked, her tone perfectly concerned.
"Yeah… just—"
The music swelled in the background, but to Damien, it was fading — like it was being pulled away down a tunnel. His vision blurred at the edges. Faces swam before him in a haze of gold and shadow.
"I—need… air," he murmured, stepping back.
Julian's hand clapped his shoulder. "I'll help you, brother."
Damien wanted to tell him not to bother, that he could manage, but his tongue felt heavy, sluggish. Ava's face swam into view, her hand curling around his arm — but for a fraction of a second, he caught it.
The glance.
The almost imperceptible shift of her gaze to Julian. The faintest curl of her lips — not concern.
Triumph.
Cold understanding slid into him like a blade, right before the world tilted.
The next thing he knew, he was being dragged — no, half-carried — through the service corridor of the hotel. The scent of floor cleaner and faint grease filled his nostrils. He tried to move, to speak, but his body refused him.
Julian's voice was low, almost conversational. "You always trusted too easily, Damien. Always thought the best of people. Father's golden boy."
Ava's heels clicked behind them. "Stop talking to him. He can barely hear you."
"Oh, he can hear me," Julian said lightly. "I want him to."
They reached the back exit. A black sedan idled there, engine running. The cold night air slapped Damien's face as Julian shoved him inside.
"He'll be dead before sunrise," Ava said from the doorway, her tone smooth as silk.
Julian leaned in close, his voice a whisper by Damien's ear. "You were never meant to sit on that throne. Goodbye, little brother."
The door slammed shut.
He drifted in and out. The hum of tires on asphalt. The driver's muttering. The smell of rain.
Then — impact.
The car swerved sharply, metal screaming as it shattered through the guardrail. Damien's sluggish eyes caught the blur of black water below.
The plunge was violent. The river swallowed the car whole, icy darkness pressing in. Water rushed into his lungs before instinct forced him to hold his breath. His body screamed for air, but his limbs were lead.
The last thought before the darkness claimed him was not fear.
It was betrayal.
Somewhere far away, a man's voice cursed.
Damien's body jerked as he coughed violently, river water spilling from his mouth. He was lying on hard wood, wrapped in a rough blanket. The night air bit at his skin.
"Thought you were gone," the stranger muttered. His face was weathered, his clothes simple. "Pulled you out before the tide could claim you. Whoever dumped you in there… didn't want you walking away."
Damien's vision cleared enough to see the small fishing boat rocking gently. The distant shore was barely a shadow.
"You need a hospital," the man said. "But… if someone wanted you dead…" He shook his head. "Best you disappear for a while."
Disappear.
The word coiled in Damien's chest. The images of Ava's smirk and Julian's cold eyes replayed in brutal clarity.
The Damien Kane they knew was gone.
What rose in his place would be something else entirely.
His fingers clenched around the blanket. "They'll think I'm dead."
"Then make them regret it," the fisherman said simply.
Damien stared into the black water, his reflection barely visible — pale, wet, unrecognizable.
A slow, merciless smile curved his lips.
"They buried a fool," he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "I'll return a tyrant."