The private jet touched down just before midnight. The runway lights gleamed against the wet tarmac, casting long reflections like veins of molten gold. Inside the cabin, Damien Kane — now Adrian Vale to the world — sat with one leg crossed over the other, fingers drumming once against the armrest before going still.
It had been six years since he'd last seen this skyline.
Six years since the river swallowed him whole.
Six years since Damien Kane died.
The city glittered outside the tinted windows of the waiting Rolls-Royce, every tower and glass facade whispering of old memories — some gilded, most poisoned. He didn't look for landmarks. He knew them all. He'd memorized every inch of this place long before he could afford to leave it.
Julian thought he had erased him. Ava probably never thought of him at all. The rest of the world… had moved on.
That was exactly how he wanted it.
Damien didn't stay in a hotel under his name — not that "Adrian Vale" had one in this city yet. Instead, he had secured a top-floor suite in a luxury high-rise under a shell corporation, the kind with no listed owner, no paper trail, and no chance of paparazzi sniffing around.
The place was minimalist — black marble floors, floor-to-ceiling glass, and a single steel desk in the corner.
The desk already had a laptop waiting for him.
The laptop already had a secure line to his network.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey, sat down, and clicked open the first file.
Kane Industries – Current Structure
Julian Kane – CEO
Board composition – 12 members (3 hostile, 5 neutral, 4 loyal to Julian)
Current market value – $28.6B (5% decline in the last 8 months)
Rumored acquisition: Helios Shipping Corp.
Damien's mouth curved in something that might have been a smile if it weren't so sharp.
The decline was small enough for most people to ignore — a market fluctuation. But to Damien, it was the scent of weakness. Weakness he could pry open until the entire empire bled out.
The first move was already in motion.
Through a network of shell companies, Damien had been acquiring Kane Industries stock in small, untraceable amounts over the last year. On paper, it was scattered ownership across anonymous investment funds. In reality, he already controlled nearly 11% of the company — more than any single shareholder outside of Julian himself.
By the end of the month, that number would double.
He opened another file: "Asset – Gray".
Gray was a former Kane Industries financial analyst who had been quietly pushed out after discovering "accounting discrepancies" in Julian's early days as CEO. Damien had tracked him down in Singapore. It had taken less than half an hour and a seven-figure salary offer to secure his loyalty.
Now, Gray was in the building again — deep cover, posing as an external consultant for one of Kane's subsidiaries.
By the time morning came, Gray's first report would be on Damien's desk.
At dawn, Damien stood at the glass wall, looking down at the city from fifty stories up. The streets were already alive — cars moving like veins through a living organism, people rushing to offices, coffee carts steaming in the cold air.
He had no nostalgia.
The city had chewed him up once. This time, he'd be the one with teeth.
Two days later, he returned to the Astoria Grand Hotel.
Not the main entrance — the side door, the one the staff used. The ballroom upstairs was booked for a corporate luncheon. The same chandeliers still dripped crystal light. The same champagne towers stood like glass monuments.
He stood in the doorway for a long moment, unseen, letting the memories wash over him.
The last time he'd been here, he'd been Damien Kane — smiling, trusting, holding Ava Monroe like she was the most precious thing in the room.
Now he was Adrian Vale, and the only thing he wanted to hold here was Julian's downfall.
The first strike came a week later.
Julian was in the middle of finalizing the acquisition of Helios Shipping Corp., a move that would have secured Kane Industries' dominance in global logistics.
That deal collapsed overnight.
Helios' board received a counter-offer — higher by a full twenty million — from a "private investment group" registered out of Dubai. They accepted immediately.
Julian never saw the signature on the final papers.
It read: A.V. Holdings.
At 3 a.m., sitting alone in his suite, Damien poured himself another glass of whiskey and stared at the Helios contract on his desk.
It was the first cut.
Not deep enough to kill, but enough to make Julian bleed.
He took a slow sip, savoring the burn.
"This is only the first cut," he murmured into the empty room. "By the time I'm done, you won't even realize you're bleeding out until you're gone."