Clarissa watched him walk back into the Whintrop mansion, her lips curved into a satisfied smile. He looked defeated, bruised along the jaw, his shirt rumpled, and his shoulders heavy. Exactly as her mother predicted.
A Whintrop always got what they wanted.
She crossed her arms, leaning against the marble pillar of the hallway as he moved past her. "What happened, Ryan? Finally learned where your place is? You should have listened from the start."
He didn't answer. His gaze was distant, his silence colder than she expected. Clarissa's smirk widened. In her mind, she had already won.
But Ryan wasn't broken. Not even close.
Later, in the solitude of the dim guest room he'd been using, he sat on the edge of the bed, replaying every moment. The masked men. The near-death taste of blood in his mouth. And then the old man's calm voice cutting through chaos like a blade:
"Good. You fought when every reason told you to surrender. That's what I needed to see. Now you're ready to know who you are--heir of the Ardyn bloodline. Wealth, power, a legacy older than this city, it's yours. If you're ready to claim it."
Ryan had thought he was delirious, that the blood loss had made him dream. But the Gentleman's eyes had been too sharp, his presence too commanding.
And his final parting words stuck with Ryan.
"There is something you must retrieve. In the Whintrop underground vaults lies the Book of Contracts. Only Ardyn's blood can awaken it. To reach it, you'll need a key to grant you access. Steal it, and claim what is yours. When you return with the book, more will be revealed. That is when you'll truly become the heir."
Ryan rubbed his aching knuckles. Everything inside him screamed this was madness. But the spark in his chest said otherwise. He had to do it.
The first step came quicker than he thought.
Clarissa was careless with her key card. She tossed her designer bag on the couch and went upstairs, shouting at a maid. Ryan, moving with the quiet ease of a man who had endured years of being unseen, slipped the slim black card from the bag. His heart pounded, but his face betrayed nothing when she passed him again minutes later.
By nightfall, he was gone.
The underground vault was beneath the Whintrop headquarters, a place whispered about but rarely entered. He moved through the parking garage, past cameras and guards who greeted him, thinking he had come on behalf of Clarissa. Not until he descended into the lower levels did the resistance begin.
Two security men stepped out from a side corridor, hands already on their weapons.
Ryan moved first. He ducked beneath the first swing, drove his fist into the man's ribs, and spun into the second before either could draw a gun. Pain shot through his already bruised body, but he pushed on.
By the time the last guard dropped, Ryan was gasping for air, but still standing. He pressed the key card to the reinforced steel door.
It beeped red.
For a heartbeat, panic surged, until he noticed the biometric scanner beside it.
The Gentleman's words echoed: "Only the heir of Ardyn can open it."
Ryan raised a trembling hand and pressed it to the glass panel.
The machine hummed, scanning. For a second, he thought it would reject him. Then a shock of warmth travelled through his palm, the scanner flared green instead of red, and the massive bolts unlatched with a hiss.
The vault opened.
Inside, stacks of contracts and old files lined the shelves. But at the very centre, on a pedestal draped in dust, lay a single leather-bound book. Black, heavy, its cover marked with symbols Ryan didn't recognise.
The Book of Contracts.
As his hand touched the cover, light rippled across the pages, writing etching itself into the parchment as if the book had been waiting for him.
Ryan staggered back, heart racing. This was real. All of it.
Then the sirens screamed.
Red lights flared overhead, alarms echoing through the underground chambers. Somewhere above, security scrambled.
Ryan slammed the book under his arm and ran.
He dodged down corridors, alarms blaring, boots pounding behind him. Twice he nearly slipped, but adrenaline kept him moving. Guards shouted after him, gunshots cracked against steel walls, the ricochet ringing in his ears.
He burst through the final door and stumbled into the night, lungs on fire. The chill air hit him like ice, but he didn't dare stop. Behind him, the stairwell door slammed open, more men poured out, shouting, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.
Ryan sprinted across the service road, his shoes slapping the pavement. A bullet whizzed past his shoulder. He didn't look back.
Then, headlights blazed in front of him.
A black car screeched to a halt so close he thought it would hit him. The passenger window rolled down. The Gentleman leaned out, calm as ever, his grey hair barely ruffled by the wind.
"Get in," he said.
Ryan didn't think, he just dove into the seat, clutching the book like his life depended on it. The door slammed, tires squealed, and the car shot forward.
Gunfire erupted behind them. Bullets sparked against the rear bumper, but the Gentleman's hands were steady on the wheel, weaving the vehicle with impossible precision.
"Keep your head down," he said without looking at Ryan.
Ryan ducked as the car whipped around a corner, the Whintrop security team shrinking in the distance. Sirens wailed, lights streaked past, but the Gentleman's driving was effortless, almost inhuman.
Finally, when the sound of pursuit faded, Ryan risked a breath. His chest heaved, sweat soaked through his shirt, and the Book of Contracts lay heavy in his arms like it carried the weight of the world.
He glanced at the Gentleman, still trying to catch up with what had just happened. "How... how did you even know I was--"
The older man gave a small, knowing smile, eyes flicking to the book. "Because this was your first step, Ryan Ardyn. And you passed."
Ryan stared, heart pounding, his mind refusing to believe. But deep down, he knew this was no dream.