The jet sliced through the clouds like a blade of glass. Zurich shimmered beneath the dawn, its rivers glinting gold in the early light. To anyone else, it was a city of peace and order. To John Raymond, it was enemy territory.
He sat in silence as the plane began its descent, the world below drawing closer. His mind replayed Harrison's words again and again — If you want your throne back, come take it from me.
Rita's voice echoed in his earpiece, steady and low. "You're less than twenty minutes from Sovereign headquarters. We've confirmed their internal layout. Security's tight, but there's a window between shift rotations at eight."
"Good," John said quietly. "Keep the Crest stable. Don't let the board act without me."
"I'll handle them," Rita said. "Just come back alive."
The line went silent.
John glanced out the window, his reflection a blur against the pale sky. Somewhere inside that mirrored skyline waited the man who had haunted two generations of his family.
He closed his eyes briefly, then whispered to himself, "Let's finish this."
Sovereign Headquarters towered over the Zurich financial district, its black glass façade rising like a monolith. A golden insignia — the broken lion's crown — gleamed near the top.
John stepped out of the taxi a few blocks away, dressed in a charcoal coat, his expression calm, unreadable. To the world, he looked like another executive walking into a meeting. But beneath the coat, his hands were steady, ready.
He moved through the revolving doors, his forged credentials clearing each checkpoint. The lobby was vast, silent, immaculate. Marble floors reflected soft light from chandeliers shaped like flames.
A receptionist greeted him. "Welcome to Sovereign Holdings, Mr Grey."
He smiled faintly at the alias. "Thank you. Mr West is expecting me."
She nodded and tapped the console. "Eighty-second floor."
The elevator doors closed, enclosing him in mirrored walls. As the floor numbers climbed, his pulse slowed, not from fear but focus. Each second carried the weight of years.
When the doors opened, he stepped into a corridor lined with black glass. The air smelled faintly of cedar and steel. At the far end, a pair of golden doors waited.
Harrison West's office.
The doors opened before John could knock.
Harrison stood behind his desk, sunlight pouring across the room, framing him like a portrait of power. He looked older but untouched by regret — silver hair neat, grey eyes cold, every movement deliberate.
"Welcome to Sovereign," he said softly. "I was wondering when you'd arrive."
John walked forward slowly. "You invited me."
"I did," Harrison said. "And you came. That's what makes you predictable."
John stopped a few feet away. "You built all this on what you stole. Does it feel like victory?"
Harrison smiled faintly. "It feels like justice. Your father thought he could destroy me. Instead, his empire raised mine."
"He died because of you," John said, voice low.
"No," Harrison replied. "He died because of himself. He played a game he didn't understand. You're doing the same."
John's jaw tightened. "You tried to kill me as a boy."
"I tried to erase a name," Harrison said simply. "You and your father were the last stones in my path. Once you're gone, the Raymond legacy dies, and mine replaces it."
John's eyes burned. "You'll never own what you destroy."
Harrison circled the desk slowly, his steps measured and deliberate. "Ownership isn't about creation. It's about control. And control, John, is something you've never truly had."
John met his gaze. "Then why am I standing here?"
Harrison chuckled softly. "Because you think this is a fight between us. But it's not. It's a war between memory and ambition. And memory always loses."
John's voice sharpened. "You talk too much for a man who hides behind lies."
"Lies?" Harrison echoed, amused. "Or truths you're afraid to face? Tell me — did you ever wonder why Shack stayed by your side all those years?"
John's breath caught. "Don't."
"He wasn't loyal to you," Harrison said. "He was loyal to me. Until he realised I'd never let him atone."
John stepped forward, eyes blazing. "You used him, broke him, then killed him."
Harrison's smile faded. "He made his choice. So will you."
He pressed a button on his desk. The office doors locked with a quiet click.
From the corner of the room, a woman stepped into view. John's heart stopped.
Rose.
Her hair was shorter now, her expression colder, but the betrayal in her eyes still cut deep.
"Harrison said you'd come," she said. "He needed proof you'd take the bait."
John stared at her. "You're helping him now?"
Rose's lips trembled faintly. "You left me nothing to lose."
Harrison watched the exchange with satisfaction. "You see, John, loyalty is a currency. Yours has been spent."
John's voice dropped to a dangerous calm. "So this was all a trap."
Harrison's tone was smooth. "A demonstration. You came into my empire uninvited. You'll leave it erased."
Rose pulled a small device from her coat — a signal jammer. The light on John's comm flickered out.
"Rita," he called softly, but there was no reply.
Harrison approached him, hands clasped behind his back. "You were never my equal, Raymond. You were my project. I built you through loss and ambition, to prove a point — that even lions kneel when the cage is gold enough."
John's jaw tightened. "You underestimate what a cornered lion does."
He moved fast, grabbing the paperweight from the desk and swinging it upward. It shattered the jammer from Rose's hand. The office erupted into chaos. Harrison lunged back as John struck one of the guards, bursting through the door.
Rose shouted, "Stop him!"
John fought like a man stripped of everything but will. He slammed one guard against the wall, disarmed another, and aimed the weapon toward Harrison.
"End it," Harrison said softly. "Go ahead. Be the killer they say you are."
John's finger hesitated on the trigger. His breath came in hard bursts.
Behind him, Rose moved — too fast. A sharp sting hit his neck.
He turned, eyes wide, just as the syringe withdrew.
Rose stepped back, her face pale. "I told you not to make me do this."
The world tilted. His vision blurred, edges bleeding into darkness. Harrison's voice echoed distantly.
"Sleep, Raymond. You've fought long enough."
John fell to his knees. The gun slipped from his hand.
As the room faded into shadow, he caught one last glimpse of Harrison standing over him, the morning light framing his silhouette like a crown.
Then everything went black.
Somewhere far away, Rita's voice crackled faintly through the half-dead comm.
"John? John, do you copy?"
Static answered.
Inside Sovereign headquarters, security men dragged John's unconscious body through a hidden corridor. Harrison followed behind, his expression calm.
"Put him in the vault," he said. "Let him wake to the truth he's been running from."
Rose looked away as they carried John into the dark.
Harrison paused, watching her. "Regret is a weakness. Don't let it kill you too."
She didn't answer. Her eyes lingered on the bloodstain near the door — the last mark of a man who refused to kneel.
And far above the city, as the sun vanished behind the glass towers, The Sovereign's golden crown glowed against the night.
The lion had fallen.
But the storm was only gathering.