The Janitor and the CEO
The Crash
Rain burned through the clouds like falling glass.
Inside the private jet, a boy stared out the window at the lightning cutting across the night.
"Mom, when we land, will Dad be there?"
His mother smiled, though her knuckles trembled around the glass of wine.
"Of course, Luther. Your father never breaks a promise."
Then the plane shuddered.
A red light blinked. Metal screamed.
The pilot's voice cracked through static.
"We've lost both engines! Brace for..."
Flames swallowed his words. The cabin erupted.
His mother lunged forward, covering him as glass and fire tore the world apart.
Through the chaos, Luther saw a shadow outside the window
A man in a black suit stood in the air, silver threads glowing from his hands as the plane broke apart.
"He survived," the man said coldly, before the explosion consumed everything.
Darkness followed. And silence.
Until a heartbeat whispered in the void:
Live, if you dare.
Twenty years later.
Cain Global Tower scraped the clouds 210 floors of mirrored perfection and corruption.
On the lowest floor, beneath marble and luxury, Luther Cain pushed a mop across the gleaming lobby tiles.
He was twenty-five now. Unshaven. Sleepless eyes.
Nobody knew his name. He'd made sure of that.
To the guards, he was "Ash," the quiet janitor who never looked up.
Then...BOOM.
The building trembled. Glass shattered.
Screams filled the air as gunfire echoed through the lobby.
A dozen masked men stormed in, guns raised.
"Everyone down! This tower belongs to the revolution tonight!"
Luther ducked behind a pillar, heart pounding. He wasn't a hero...he knew better.
But then he saw her, a little girl, frozen in terror under a receptionist's desk.
And beside her, the man the gunmen were hunting was Victor Cain, CEO of Cain Global.
The name sent a shiver through Luther's veins.
The man from his nightmares. The man in the fire.
Before he could think, Luther grabbed a fallen guard's weapon, moving faster than he ever had before.
A bullet grazed his shoulder, and blood splashed across the marble but he kept running.
He fired, dropped one attacker, then tackled the next into a glass wall.
Adrenaline roared.
The last gunman turned his rifle on the girl...
BANG!
Luther threw himself between them.
Pain exploded through his chest.
The world tilted. His vision flickered.
As he collapsed, Victor Cain's face loomed above him, the same cold eyes as the man from the fire.
"You saved my life," Victor said quietly. "What's your name, son?"
Luther's voice rasped out:
"Doesn't matter… I'm nobody."
Then darkness claimed him again.
Sirens wailed somewhere above him.
The smell of smoke, gunpowder, and antiseptic filled the air as emergency lights pulsed red across the ruined lobby.
Luther tried to move, but every nerve screamed.
He felt hands gripping his shoulders paramedics shouting, blurred faces flickering in and out of focus.
"Stay with us! He's losing blood!"
He didn't answer. His gaze fixed on the ceiling, on the fractured glass dome where rain leaked through in thin, silver threads. They shimmered strangely, twisting in ways the eye shouldn't follow.
For a second, each drop seemed suspended mid-air, caught on invisible strings.
Then darkness swallowed everything again.
When Luther surfaced, the world was a dull hum.
He lay on a stretcher rolling down an endless hallway, paramedics barking codes he couldn't understand.
He turned his head slightly and caught a glimpse through the glass wall beside him of news cameras, drones flashing lights, and reporters screaming questions.
"Hero janitor saves Cain Global CEO!"
"An anonymous man takes a bullet for billionaire!"
Hero.
The word felt like a cruel joke.
He wanted to laugh, but it came out as a ragged cough.
Blood stained the sheets under him; pain throbbed behind his ribs like a second heartbeat.
"Pressure's dropping!" someone yelled. "He needs a transfusion, now!"
They shoved needles into his arm. Cold rushed through his veins. Then warmth. Then silence.
Flashes.
A woman's voice is his mother's.
Her perfume and the sound of a lullaby.
The plane is shaking, and a hand is reaching for him. Fire, then the man in black, silver threads glowing from his fingers as he stood in the air outside the window.
"He survived."
Luther jerked awake, gasping.
He was lying in a hospital bed now, surrounded by white curtains and steady beeping. Night pressed against the windows beyond the glass wall.
He looked down at the bandages wrapped tight across his chest. Machines blinked quietly beside him.
For a moment, he just breathed. He'd been shot before, not shot. Felt shot. But he'd never actually died, had he?
He couldn't tell anymore.
Footsteps clicked across the floor.
A nurse entered, tablet in hand. She froze when she saw him awake.
"You're lucky to be alive, Mr. Vale. The bullet missed your heart by an inch."
"Guess I should thank whoever trained the shooter," he rasped.
She smiled nervously but didn't laugh.
"The CEO himself came by twice. Said you saved his daughter."
Luther's stomach turned. "He did?"
"He left strict instructions that you're not to be moved until he returns."
"Great," he muttered. "A billionaire babysitter."
She tapped her screen. "Oh...and there was something strange during surgery. The blood compatibility test flagged… unusual markers. The lab's running it again, but the system insists you're a match with someone who shouldn't exist."
Luther blinked.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Three men in dark suits entered without knocking, their shoes whispering against the tile. The nurse stiffened and stepped aside immediately.
The tallest of them smiled polished, predatory smile that Luther recognized from every news broadcast.
Victor Cain.
The same man whose life he'd saved.
The same shadow that haunted his nightmares.
"Mr. Vale," Victor said smoothly. "You and I have much to discuss."
Luther's throat went dry.
"You're welcome for the rescue," he said. "Now get out."
Victor chuckled softly, ignoring the edge in his voice.
He stepped closer, eyes flicking to the IV line feeding into Luther's arm.
"You're special, aren't you? I felt it the moment you touched my daughter. Something in the air shifted, threads tightening. I've only seen that once before."
Luther frowned. "You're talking like a lunatic."
"Perhaps," Victor said, "but our family has always produced lunatics."
He handed the nurse a small drive. "Run this against his DNA sample. Full comparison."
"Sir, the results already..."
"Run it again," Victor cut in, gaze never leaving Luther. "We'll wait."
He leaned back, hands clasped behind his back, studying Luther the way a scientist studies a specimen.
Minutes ticked by.
The machine hummed. A small screen blinked green.
The nurse hesitated, looking between them.
"Sir… the sample is a ninety-nine-point-nine-seven percent match."
Victor's smile widened.
"I knew it."
Luther's pulse thundered in his ears. "Match? Match to what?"
Victor's voice was almost gentle.
"To a boy who died eighteen years ago. My nephew. My brother's son."
He paused.
"His name was Luther Cain."
Silence filled the room.
Luther stared at him, every thought freezing in place.
The world tilted, just slightly.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
Victor only smiled.
"Then tell me, Mr. Vale… why does his blood run in your veins?"