The hour was deep into the night. Moonlight streamed in through the tall arched windows of the Voss estate, pale and cold, like a watchful eye. The house was mostly quiet—except for the muted ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the low hum of a storm retreating into silence.
Nathan stood by the fireplace in his study, arms folded tightly across his chest. The flames flickered, casting shadows on the wall behind him, dancing like the ghosts of things best left buried.
The door creaked open with quiet familiarity. Samson stepped inside, shaking rain from his coat as he shut the door behind him.
Nathan didn't turn. "You're late."
Samson dropped into one of the leather chairs. "Blame your paranoid guards.And traffic."
Nathan finally turned, eyeing him. "You have news?"
"Yes." Samson leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Your orders have been carried out. Stephanie's mother has been transferred to a secure facility in Eastport. Private wing. Around-the-clock surveillance. My men are stationed there."
Nathan's jaw relaxed slightly. "Any complications?"
"She was frightened at first—terrified when she heard your name, actually."
That drew Nathan's full attention.
"She said… she wanted to talk to you. Called you by your full name. There's something she knows, Nathan. She was rattled. Badly."
Nathan stared into the flames. A tight knot formed in his chest. Why would she fear the Voss name unless she knew what it had done? What it had taken?
"She saw something," he muttered.
Samson nodded. "Or someone."
Nathan moved to his desk, picked up a glass of whiskey, and took a slow sip. The burn didn't distract him from the chill settling into his bones.
"I'll visit her," he said. "First thing tomorrow."
"She'll talk to you," Samson added. "I could see it in her eyes. She's holding something. Maybe everything."
A long pause passed between them, broken only when Nathan exhaled. "And the two men?"
Samson's jaw tensed. "We've got them. They're locked in an isolated location, under watch. But they won't talk. Not yet. They're loyal—to Victor. Sworn, apparently. Trained not to break."
Nathan's expression turned colder. "Then we make them want to."
Samson raised an eyebrow. "That's a line, Nathan."
Nathan's lips curved into something between a sneer and a bitter smile. "And where were these lines when he orchestrated all this? When he went after my family, her family? I'm done playing by rules he's already broken."
Samson nodded slowly. "I'll keep the pressure on. We'll see if pain or fear speaks first."
Nathan downed the rest of his drink, the firelight catching the sharp edge of his cheekbone. "Anything else?"
"The board's request," Samson said, shifting gears. "The expansion into the APAC biotech sector. You know it's been shelved for months—regulations, no reliable local partners, political instability."
Nathan scoffed. "They know damn well why it stalled. But they still expect it signed before my birthday."
"You said you'd handle it, so I pulled a few strings." Samson reached into his jacket and placed a file on the desk. "Meeting at ten a.m. with one of your father's old associates. Guy has influence in Southeast Asia. He's willing to open doors—but you'll need to massage his ego. A lot of it."
Nathan arched a brow. "Name?"
"Malik Nair. Used to work with your father back in the early Vosstech pharma days. Old-school, sharp, but a petty bastard. He likes to be courted."
Nathan nodded, mentally filing the name away. "I'll grovel if I have to. This project needs to be locked in before my birthday. If not, the board might start sniffing around for replacements."
"Don't give them a reason," Samson said.
Nathan opened the file, eyes scanning the pages, but his attention shifted when Samson pulled another envelope from his coat.
"What's that?"
"Luisa's file. The documents she gave you. I went through the ones you gave me. Cross-referenced some names. We missed something."
Nathan took the folder and flipped it open. His eyes skimmed the papers—contracts, emails, transaction records—all linked to Victor. Offshore accounts. Falsified documents. Bribes masked as donations.
Then Samson pointed to a highlighted line in a decrypted email.
"Greg Alden," Samson said. "Ex-military. Now a freelance 'cleaner.' Paid through a shadow company Victor owns under one of Damien's shell corporations."
Nathan read the line aloud:
"Terminate Micheal Quinn.Clean, quiet. Car crash. No loose ends."
The name hit like a gunshot.
Micheal Quinn.
Michael Quinn.
Stephanie's father.
The man who saved him.
Nathan's hand tightened on the page. "He had him killed. He didn't just ruin him. He ended him."
Samson's voice was quiet now. "Made it look like an accident. Like fate played its hand."
Nathan stared down at the papers. The room felt colder, despite the fire behind him.
Flashback.
A boy,Ten, in a black suit too big for his frame. Staring at a casket. Alone.
Nathan remembered the pitying glances, the hushed whispers, the way Victor stood beside him with a hand on his shoulder like he hadn't been behind the wheel of Nathan's orphanhood.
But even back then—he'd known. The smile didn't reach Victor's eyes. The condolences were too rehearsed. Nathan had felt the rot underneath.
"I'll take care of you now," Victor had said.
Liar.
End Flashback.
"I should've known," Nathan whispered. "All this time… I thought it was greed. But this… this was vengeance. Control. He wanted to erase anyone who wouldn't kneel."
"And Damien?" Samson asked.
Nathan's jaw clenched. "He was just a kid when it happened. Fourteen. He didn't benefit directly—but now? He's just another pawn… or worse, a willing player."
Samson leaned forward. "This goes deeper than we thought, Nathan. It's not just about you. Or your inheritance. There's a trail here—one that leads to every dark deal Victor ever made."
"We'll follow it," Nathan said. "Every piece. Every lie. And when it ends…"
"You burn it all?"
Nathan's voice was ice. "To ash."
The two men sat in the silence of the storm's aftermath, firelight casting flickering shadows of men who had seen too much to ever be whole again.
But Nathan wasn't looking for wholeness.
He was looking for justice.
And maybe… vengeance dressed in justice's clothes.