"Yesterday, I was a ghost in their hallways; today, I am the sun they aren't allowed to look at without permission."
I stood in front of a mirror that spanned the entire length of the dressing suite, but I didn't recognize the man staring back. My wardrobe manager, a soft-spoken man named Elias, was meticulously adjusting the lapels of a charcoal-grey suit tailored from vicuña wool. It felt like a second skin—light, expensive, and intimidating.
"The cut is perfect, My Lord," Elias whispered, stepping back.
"It commands respect without having to raise its voice."
I looked at my hands. The grease from the docks was gone, scrubbed away by a team of professionals. My skin was smooth, my hair perfectly styled. I looked like a titan. I looked like the man Lina had always claimed I would never be.
Lannen entered the suite, holding a silver tray with a porcelain cup of black coffee and a leather-bound briefing folder.
"The board is waiting in the Great Hall, sir. The heads of the top twelve financial institutions in the country are present. A few insignificant members were let in too. They've been seated for twenty minutes. Most of them are sweating through their shirts."
I took the coffee, the steam warming my face. I flipped open the folder. My schedule was a relentless march of power: high-level briefings, policy directives, and the official restructuring of the city's trade laws.
"I can postpone them, if you'd like," Lannen added, checking his watch.
"As Lord, your time is the only currency that matters. If you want them to wait until sunset to show them who is in charge, that is your prerogative."
"No," I said, taking a sip of the bitter, rich coffee. "I've spent enough time waiting for them. Let's not waste any more of mine. I'll address them now."
As I walked down the long, vaulted corridor toward the Great Hall, the sound of my leather shoes against the marble felt like a countdown. I didn't feel nervous. I wanted to see their faces.
The heavy double doors were opened by two guards as I approached.
The moment I stepped into the room, the low murmur of conversation vanished instantly. It was replaced by a sound I had never heard before—the collective rustle of sixty powerful men and women standing up in unison. Then, they bowed.
I walked to the head of the massive obsidian table, my eyes scanning the crowd. I recognized them. There was the CEO of the bank that had rejected my loan four times. There was the venture capitalist who had called Aegis a "child's toy." These were the kings of New York, and they were all looking at the floor, waiting for my permission to breathe.
"Sit," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the room.
The sound of chairs scraping the floor followed. I sat at the head of the table and leaned back.
"For years," I began, my voice steady, "you've operated under the assumption that the financial market is a beast that cannot be tamed. You've used outdated models to gamble with the lives of the public. Aegis has ended that era. As of this morning, I have centralized the liquidity protocols. If you want to move a single dollar in this city, you will do it through my architecture, or you will not do it at all."
I began to lecture them, breaking down the revolution I had created. I spoke about the shift in algorithmic transparency and the new tax structures I was implementing as Lord. They took notes like schoolboys, their pens flying across paper.
"Questions?" I asked, looking around the room.
A few men raised their hands tentatively. I answered them with a surgical precision that left no room for debate. It was during a question about the new interest rates that my eyes finally landed on a figure near the back of the room.
Arthur Darkson.
He wasn't sitting upright like the others. He looked small. His suit, which I once thought was the height of luxury, now looked ill-fitting and dated. His face was a sickly shade of grey, and as our eyes met, I saw his hands trembling so violently that he had to tuck them under the table.
"Mr. Darkson," I said, the name echoing in the hall. "You seem to have a thought. Stand up and share it with the board."
Arthur stood, but his knees buckled slightly, and he had to catch himself on the back of his chair. He looked like a man standing before a firing squad.
"My... My Lord," he stammered, his voice thin and reedy.
"I... I only wanted to say that Darkson Corp is fully committed to your vision. We have always believed in innovation. We... we hope that our previous... misunderstandings... won't cloud our future partnership."
I tilted my head, genuinely surprised by the sheer terror in his eyes.
"Why are you trembling, Arthur? You're a titan of industry, aren't you? You're the man who told me I was a stain on your family tree. Surely a man of your 'stature' isn't afraid of a boy from the gutter?"
"Please," Arthur whispered, his eyes darting around the room as the other board members looked at him with icy indifference. They smelled blood in the water.
"I beg of you, My Lord. Don't throw us out. My family... our entire legacy is tied to the credit lines you just froze. We won't survive the week if you don't show us mercy."
The memory of the Darkson mansion flashed in my mind—Lina in Rico's arms, Arthur laughing as I was dragged out by security, the way they treated my life's work like garbage.
The anger didn't come as a hot flash; it came as a cold, frozen wall.
"Mercy is for the misguided, Arthur," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper that felt like a blade. "But you weren't misguided. You were cruel. You enjoyed making me feel small. You enjoyed watching your daughter treat her husband like a parasite."
"I was wrong!" he cried out, his voice cracking. "Lina was wrong! We can fix it, Dray! She's waiting for you! She wants to apologize!"
"Don't use my name," I snapped, the sound of my hand hitting the table like a gunshot. The room jumped.
"And don't you dare bring her into this hall. This is a place for business. And you, Arthur, are no longer a businessman. You are a liability."
I looked at the security team near the door.
"Get him out," I commanded.
"Mr. Darkson is no longer a member of this board. He is stripped of his voting rights and his access. He is never to return to a Lord's meeting. If he is found within a mile of this estate or the Hudson Tower, arrest him for trespassing."
"No! My Lord, please!" Arthur wailed as two guards grabbed him by the arms. He didn't even try to fight. He just went limp, his polished shoes dragging across the floor as they hauled him toward the exit.
"Think of Lina! Think of your wife!"
"I am thinking of her," I said to his retreating back. "I'm thinking of how much she'll enjoy the silence when the phones stop ringing."
The heavy doors slammed shut, cutting off his cries.
I turned back to the room. The other board members were staring at me, their faces masks of terror. They realized then that I wasn't just a new boss. I was a King who remembered every insult.
"Next item," I said, taking a sip of my coffee.
Just as I prepared to move to the next slide, Amara Vale stepped into the hall from a side entrance. She didn't bow. She walked straight to my side and leaned in, her scent of vanilla and old books cutting through the tension of the room.
"We have a problem," she whispered, her eyes locked on mine.
"What is it?"
"It's not the Darksons," she said, sliding a tablet in front of me.
"It's Rico Vane. He didn't just file an injunction. He just moved forty percent of his family's offshore capital into a private military contractor's account. He's not trying to sue you anymore, Mr Hudson."
I looked at the screen. The transaction was verified.
"He's trying to erase me," I murmured.
Amara looked at the board, then back at me, a grim smile on her lips.
"Welcome to the top. The first assassination plot usually happens within twenty-four hours."