The hotel was quiet again, but the silence felt different now — strained, almost fragile. In the executive wing, the corridors were half-lit, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and tension. Outside, thunder murmured in the distance, promising another storm.
John stood by the window of his office, the faint reflection of city lights glimmering in his eyes. The letter from his father lay on the desk behind him, its words branded in his mind. The man who guards your future once guarded my death.
He turned as the door opened. Shack stepped in, moving with his usual calm, though his face looked older tonight. The years had finally caught up with him.
"You said you wanted to talk," John said quietly.
Shack nodded. "I think it's time you knew everything."
John's gaze sharpened. "Then start."
Shack closed the door and leaned against it, his hands in his pockets. "Your father and I began working together long before the Crest became what it is. He was ambitious, brilliant, but too trusting. Harrison was already circling him — a predator in a suit. When your father discovered that Harrison was laundering funds through his hotel chain, he planned to expose him."
John's jaw tightened. "And that's when my father died."
Shack's eyes flickered with pain. "Yes. But it wasn't meant to happen that way. Harrison threatened my family. He said if I didn't deliver the details of your father's meeting schedule, he'd destroy everything I loved. I gave him the information, thinking he'd only use it to intimidate him. I didn't know he planned to tamper with the car."
John stared at him in silence. The words landed like blows. "You sold him out."
"I tried to stop it," Shack said, his voice breaking. "By the time I realised what Harrison intended, it was too late. I went to the bridge that night. I saw the wreckage. Your father was still alive for a few seconds. He told me to protect you."
John's face hardened. "Protect me? You betrayed him."
Shack's shoulders sagged. "I've been paying for that mistake ever since. Everything I did after that — helping you, defending you against Harrison — was penance."
John took a step closer. "You lied to me for years. You stood beside me while I fought the man who killed my father, knowing you helped him do it."
"I didn't help him kill," Shack said hoarsely. "I helped him find. There's a difference."
"There isn't," John snapped. "You were supposed to be my family."
Shack's voice dropped. "And I was. That's why I stayed. That's why I fought for you when Harrison came for the Crest. I thought if I could destroy him, maybe I'd finally make things right."
John turned away, gripping the edge of the desk. His reflection in the glass looked almost unfamiliar — colder, sharper. "You said Harrison threatened your family. Where are they now?"
Shack hesitated. "Gone. Harrison made sure of it years ago."
John's anger wavered, replaced by a flicker of something else — pity, perhaps. But it didn't last. "You still should have told me."
"I wanted to," Shack said. "But every time I tried, Harrison reminded me he still had leverage. Even in death, he held the strings."
John turned slowly. "Death," he said quietly. "You think he's dead?"
Shack's expression changed — a shadow of fear. "You've seen the kind of man he is. He doesn't die easily. I've been receiving encrypted messages for weeks. Someone's using his old channels."
"You think it's him?"
"I don't think," Shack said. "I know."
Rita sat in the operations room, watching the hotel security feeds on her tablet. She had been following Shack since he entered John's office. Something about him unsettled her, and instinct told her the danger wasn't over.
As she zoomed in on the feed, she noticed a faint flicker on the server timestamp — a signal interference pattern she recognised. She traced it back to the internal network. A second device was transmitting from Shack's ID frequency.
Her heart skipped. He's sending something.
She opened the encrypted log. A file transfer was already in progress — data from the Crest's central system was being uploaded to an external server. And the recipient's tag line made her blood run cold.
Recipient: H.West_Consultancy.
She grabbed her phone and called John immediately.
In the office, John's phone vibrated. He looked down, saw Rita's name, and answered. "What is it?"
Her voice came fast, urgent. "Shack's terminal is transmitting. To Harrison's channel."
John's gaze snapped to the older man. Shack's face drained of colour. "No," Shack said quietly. "That's impossible."
John pulled the pistol from his drawer and aimed it. "Turn off the device."
"I don't have one," Shack said. "I swear to you, John, I—"
"Don't lie to me again."
"I'm not lying," Shack said, raising his hands slowly. "He's using me. Harrison had access to my old security protocols. He could be ghosting the signal."
"Then prove it," John said. "Shut it down."
Before Shack could reply, the lights flickered. A burst of static filled the speakers. The large screen behind John lit up suddenly — an image forming out of distortion.
Harrison's face appeared, grainy but unmistakable. He looked alive, composed, even smug. "Good evening, gentlemen."
John froze.
Shack whispered, "Dear God."
Harrison's voice filled the room. "You didn't think I'd fall that easily, did you? The river was cold, John, but not cold enough."
John's hand tightened on the gun. "What do you want?"
"Only what I'm owed," Harrison said. "The Crest was mine before your father stole it. Now I'll take it back — through the man who helped him build it."
The image flickered, and Harrison's smirk widened. "How does it feel, Shack, to betray two generations of the same family?"
Shack's voice cracked. "He's lying, John."
Harrison's tone turned soft, almost mocking. "Is he? Or did you think the sins of the past would stay buried? Every man has a price. I just collected his twice."
The screen went black.
John turned on Shack, eyes blazing. "Tell me it isn't true."
Shack's face was pale. "I don't know how he—"
"Tell me!"
Shack's voice rose. "I didn't send him anything! He's playing us both!"
Before John could respond, the glass window behind them shattered. A bullet tore through the room, striking Shack in the shoulder. He spun and crashed against the wall, gasping in pain.
John ducked, pulling him to cover. "Stay down!"
More shots rang out from the corridor. Security alarms blared. Rita's voice shouted through the phone, "John! Someone's in the building! Two men, armed — heading for your office!"
John pulled Shack toward the desk. "Can you move?"
Shack gritted his teeth, blood soaking his sleeve. "I'll live."
"Not if you stay here," John said. "Come on!"
They moved toward the side exit, but Shack stopped suddenly. His eyes unfocused, his breathing shallow. "John… there's something you need to know. About your father."
"Save it," John said. "We'll talk when—"
"No," Shack said weakly. "He… he wasn't supposed to be in the car. It was meant for someone else."
John froze. "What?"
Before Shack could finish, another shot tore through the doorway, striking him in the chest. He fell backwards, blood spreading across his shirt.
"Shack!" John shouted, catching him before he hit the floor.
The old man's lips trembled. "It was… never… your father…"
Then his eyes went still.
John lowered him gently, staring at the lifeless face that had once guided his every step. For a long moment, the world seemed to fall silent — only the rain against the window, the faint hiss of the comms, and the echo of a truth half-spoken.
He stood slowly, his face hardening, his heart heavy.
Rita's voice crackled again. "John, are you there?"
He stared at the shattered window, the skyline beyond. Somewhere out there, Harrison was watching.
"Yes," he said quietly. "I'm here."
"Is Shack..."
"He's gone."
A pause. "John… what now?"
He looked down at the blood on his hands, then at the letter from his father still lying on the desk.
"I finish this," he said. "No more ghosts."
Lightning flashed across the city, casting his reflection in the glass — a man alone, surrounded by fire and loyalty's ashes.
And far away, in a hidden room lit by screens, Harrison West smiled in the glow of victory.