When John opened his eyes again, everything was white — walls, ceiling, floor, even the lights. For a moment, he thought he had died until the ache in his muscles reminded him that pain only belonged to the living.
He was strapped to a medical chair, steel cuffs locking his wrists and ankles. A faint beeping came from a monitor nearby, tracking his pulse. The air smelled sterile, too clean. Somewhere close, machinery hummed softly, like the breathing of something mechanical and patient.
The door slid open.
Harrison West entered, immaculate as ever, a glass of water in his hand. "You don't die easily, do you?"
John's voice came out rough. "You've been trying for years. Maybe it's time you accept failure."
Harrison smiled faintly and set the glass on a tray. "If I wanted you dead, John, you'd be dust by now. I need you alive."
"For what?"
"The key," Harrison said. "The Raymond Legacy Account — the encrypted archive your father built before he died. It's locked with your biometrics and a personal cypher only you can reconstruct."
John's jaw tightened. "You'll never get it."
Harrison stepped closer, his tone almost conversational. "You'll give it to me willingly. Not for me, but to save what's left of your empire. If I release the footage I have, your board will crumble overnight. Sovereign will take everything."
John's gaze was steady. "You already took everything."
"Not quite," Harrison said. "You still have hope. That's what I want to crush."
He turned toward the wall, pressing a button. A screen descended, showing live news feeds from around the world. Reporters shouted headlines over breaking visuals of The Imperial Crest surrounded by journalists and police.
Corporate Tribunal Summons Harrison West and John Raymond for Investigation.
Leaked Files Suggest Global Corruption Ring Between Sovereign and The Crest.
Rita's face flashed briefly on the screen, leading a press conference. She looked exhausted but defiant. "The Imperial Crest will cooperate fully," she said. "But let the world know, Sovereign's truth isn't justice. It's manipulation."
John felt something tighten in his chest — pride, fear, and anger, all at once. Rita was fighting, even while he was trapped.
Harrison watched the same footage with mild amusement. "Ah, the loyal one. She reminds me of your father's secretary. Fierce, beautiful, utterly doomed."
John's eyes darkened. "You touch her, and I'll finish what my father started."
Harrison laughed softly. "You really think threats matter now? You're a ghost locked in a room. The world will forget you long before they stop saying my name."
He left, the door sealing behind him with a hiss.
John sat in silence, staring at the reflection of the sterile light. His pulse slowed. He remembered Shack's words, his father's letter, and every loss that had brought him here. Harrison wanted the legacy key because it wasn't just money — it was proof of everything, every hidden transaction that built Sovereign from blood.
He wasn't going to hand it over.
He was going to bury Harrison with it.
Hours passed. Footsteps echoed beyond the door, softer than Harrison's. Then the door opened again, and a man entered — broad-shouldered, early forties, wearing Sovereign security black. His name tag read Keller.
He didn't look at John as he adjusted the monitors. "You're supposed to eat," Keller said. "Boss doesn't like it when guests die before they talk."
John studied him quietly. "You work for a man who kills his own."
Keller's jaw tightened. "I work to stay alive."
"Then you already understand what kind of man he is."
Keller glanced at him. "Understanding doesn't change orders."
"No," John said. "But it changes loyalty."
Keller frowned. "You talk like you've never lost."
"I've lost everything," John said. "That's why I can win now."
The guard hesitated, his expression flickering. "You're either brave or stupid."
"Both keep me alive," John said. "Tell me something, Keller. How long have you worked for him?"
"Too long."
John leaned forward slightly, chains rattling. "Then you've seen what happens to people like you when you stop being useful. Harrison doesn't reward loyalty — he replaces it."
Keller's face hardened. "You don't know what he's capable of."
"I do," John said. "He killed my father, framed me, burned my life to the ground. You think you're next? You already are."
The silence stretched.
Finally, Keller turned away. "Eat your food."
But his hand trembled slightly when he left the tray behind.
Back at The Imperial Crest, Rita stood before a crowd of reporters, cameras flashing. Her voice carried across the hall. "The world deserves to know the truth about Sovereign Holdings. John Raymond risked everything to expose it, and we will not let that sacrifice be silenced."
Behind her, Dalton looked nervous, whispering urgently, "Rita, you're crossing a line. The tribunal wants restraint."
"Restraint is what got us here," she said sharply. "If Harrison thinks he can erase us, he's wrong."
The screens behind her lit up with documents — fragments from John's corrupted upload. Names, numbers, offshore transfers, death lists. The crowd gasped.
"This is part of Project Crestfall," she said. "A program designed to eliminate every Raymond heir and consolidate power under Sovereign. My team is still decrypting the rest."
The feed spread globally within minutes. Across continents, Sovereign's stock began to tremble.
Far away, inside his penthouse, Harrison watched the coverage, his calm cracking. "How?" he muttered. "He couldn't have uploaded everything…"
An aide rushed in. "Sir, the tribunal has frozen your assets. They're demanding your presence within twenty-four hours."
Harrison's jaw clenched. "Find the leak. Now."
Back in the vault, Keller returned for the evening shift. He looked more restless this time, his eyes darting to the security camera.
John watched him silently, then said, "They'll make you take the fall. The tribunal will need a scapegoat."
Keller hesitated. "You talk too much."
"And you think too little," John replied. "You know he's losing control. You can see it. This is your chance to get out."
Keller met his gaze. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because I don't need to lie," John said. "If I die, he wins. If you help me, you live."
Keller looked at the door, then back at him. The seconds stretched like wires pulled tight. Finally, he exhaled and reached into his jacket.
A small keycard.
"Two minutes," Keller said. "After that, the cameras reboot."
He unlocked the cuffs. John stood slowly, rubbing his wrists. "You'll regret this," John said quietly.
"I already do," Keller muttered.
They moved quickly through the corridor. The walls hummed with electricity, the air thick with heat from the facility's generators.
"Exit's through the freight tunnel," Keller said. "It leads to the surface garage."
John nodded. "What about surveillance?"
"I looped it for now."
They reached the last security door. Keller keyed in the code. "After this, you're on your own."
John turned to him. "Thank you."
Keller gave a grim smile. "Don't thank me yet."
The door opened — and the alarm screamed.
Keller's eyes widened. "No! That's not supposed to…"
The intercom crackled. Harrison's voice flooded the hall, sharp and cold. "Did you really think I'd let you walk out twice, Raymond?"
Guards poured from the side corridor, weapons raised. Keller shoved John forward. "Run!"
John sprinted down the tunnel, bullets sparking off the walls. Keller fired back, covering him until a shot caught him in the shoulder. He staggered, blood spreading fast.
"Go!" he shouted again. "Don't stop!"
John reached the service elevator and slammed the button. The doors closed just as more guards arrived. He could still hear Keller's gunfire echoing below — then silence.
The elevator ascended rapidly. John leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
When the doors opened, he stepped out into the underground garage — vast, empty, except for a row of black SUVs. He crossed the floor quickly, found one unlocked, and climbed in.
He started the engine. The dashboard blinked with a message.
ACCESS OVERRIDE DETECTED — LOCATION TRANSMITTED.
John's heart dropped. Harrison was tracking him.
He slammed the accelerator. The SUV roared forward, tyres screeching. Behind him, the garage doors exploded open — security vehicles pouring in pursuit.
As he shot into the Zurich night, the city lights blurring past, he muttered through clenched teeth, "You wanted a war, Harrison. Now you'll get one."
And in the tower above, Harrison stood before the window, watching the escape on a surveillance feed.
He smiled thinly. "Let him run. The lion is most dangerous when he thinks he's free."