The city slept under a velvet sky, its heartbeat slow, unaware of the storm brewing in its veins.
Across town, in a penthouse stripped of warmth and steeped in steel and glass, a man studied the same ledger Aria had only glimpsed. Not the real one, but a duplicate — a counterfeit stitched together through bribes, betrayals, and careful theft of whispers.
Victor Hale.
His name wasn't carved into skyscrapers like Darius Kane's. He didn't sit in charity galas shaking hands and smiling for photographs. No, Victor thrived in the cracks, where shadows traded secrets like currency. And tonight, the smirk tugging at his lips carried the satisfaction of a man who had stolen a march on his rival.
On his desk lay the intercepted shipment manifest. Every line was another piece of Darius's empire bleeding into his own.
"You'll feel this, Kane," Victor muttered, pouring a measure of whiskey into a crystal glass. "Every empire falls when you cut deep enough into its foundations. And I've found yours."
Behind him, a woman moved from the shadows — tall, sleek, a scar running from her temple to her jaw. Marissa Voss, his lieutenant, the kind who didn't need orders to know where to strike.
"He won't sit still after this," she warned. "You've poked the beast."
"That's the point," Victor replied, swirling the whiskey. "He's grown comfortable. Predictable. A lion in his den is still just an animal in a cage. But once he's forced into the open…" He smiled, sharp as broken glass. "That's when the hunter makes his kill."
Marissa tilted her head. "And the girl?"
For a moment, Victor's gaze lingered on a photograph lying on the desk — Aria, caught in a candid shot outside Darius's office, her eyes wide, her body angled as if she'd just heard something she wasn't meant to.
"She's the weakness he won't admit to," Victor said softly. "So we make her part of the game. And when the time comes, Kane will choose — his empire or his heart."
Marissa smirked. "And either way, he loses."
The city lights flickered below, blind to the knives being sharpened above them. And somewhere across town, Darius Kane stared at the black envelope in his hand, knowing — though he couldn't yet name him — that Victor Hale had declared war.