Chapter 10
756words
My father… died protecting his father.
The truth crushed me until I could barely breathe. I'd always thought I was a lone avenger, never realizing my revenge was merely the prologue to a larger tragedy.
I stood there stunned, staring at him.
Hatred, shock, sorrow, and helplessness tangled in my chest like a nest of vipers. Fate's cruel joke.
"The recording… where is it?" I managed.
He didn't answer. Just gave me a long look, then disappeared into his study. Moments later, he returned with an encrypted drive and plugged it into the room's central system.
A static-filled recording broke the silence.
My father's voice. Urgent but firm.
"…Get out now, Richard! He's insane! He'll kill us all! Take Damian and disappear!"
Then another voice—old Blackwood.
"What about you, Roderick? Come with us!"
"Too late… they're coming… look after my Elena…"
With a crackle, the recording died.
Tears spilled down my cheeks—the first I'd allowed in ten years. Not from grief, but from a long-overdue, heart-wrenching understanding.
I finally understood my father's final choice.
The apartment fell silent. Damian stood like a statue, giving me space as emotions crashed over me.
I don't know how long I cried. Eventually, I wiped my face and looked up at him.
"Thorne thinks I'm dead," I said, voice raw but eyes steel-hard. "This is our chance."
He nodded. He knew I understood.
"He'll pay for his arrogance," Damian said, voice cold with murderous intent. "He'll send people to clean up the elevator 'accident' and confirm your death. That gives us at least twelve hours."
"That's enough."
I never trust anyone, especially a man who was just my enemy. But now I had no choice. I had to gamble that he wouldn't stab me in the back—that our blood-bound fate would prove stronger than any oath.
"I need a computer. Highest privileges," I said.
Without a word, he led me to his study. The tech there made his office equipment look like toys.
We didn't waste words.
Revenge needed no words.
We formed a "revenge alliance"—distrustful partners bound by life and death.
For hours, the study became our war room. I handled tech; he handled business. Like a ghost, I exploited the window while Thorne thought me dead, attacking the "Styx Power" network with savage intensity.
This time, I wasn't a stealthy intruder. Damian threw every door wide open.
"Get me everything on Thorne's overseas laundering accounts—especially through 'Stardust' Shell Company," Damian ordered, his voice calm and precise as a seasoned general.
"Three minutes," I replied.
My fingers flew across the keyboard. Code cascaded before my eyes like a digital waterfall. I sliced through bank firewalls, invaded Swiss servers, and surgically peeled back layers of encryption, extracting dirty money trails. While sending him the data, I quietly attached a tracking beacon. I needed to know how he'd use this information.
"All yours," I transmitted the data. "Your move."
He took the data and went to work. Using the money flow patterns, he created a fake investment trap with profits too tempting to ignore. But first, he ran everything through a simulation system, stress-testing what I'd given him. Still guarding against me—checking for traps I might have buried.
"Greedy sharks will sever his funding chain for us," he said coldly after confirming everything checked out. Then he leaked the information to Thorne's biggest rivals.
We worked together flawlessly, each still harboring ulterior motives.
He understood human greed and fear; I had the tech to weaponize it. Two predators in perfect sync, striking our prey from different angles.
At dawn, we finally stopped.
Outside, the sky showed the first hint of daybreak.
Damian's phone rang. He glanced at it and answered.
"…Well done." Just three words, then he hung up.
He looked at me, and for the first time, I could read emotion in those tired but fiery eyes.
"Thirty percent of Thorne's secret funds just evaporated," he said. "His biggest laundering channel is strangled by his own competitors. We've cut off one of his fingers."
The expected rush of victory never came.
Fighting alongside him felt strange. For a moment, I had the absurd thought that maybe we could be allies.
I quickly killed that thought.
We weren't friends. Just prisoners chained to the same revenge. Our alliance could shatter at any moment from suspicion and mistrust.
Just then, his phone rang again.
This time, his expression transformed the moment he saw the screen.
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