The echo of Gabriel's voice still lingered in Leon's mind.
"You trusted the wrong man."
At the time, it had felt like an open wound. Now, with the sting dulled by time—and sharpened by memory—Leon realized just how many signs he had ignored. There had been a night, almost exactly ten years ago, when Gabriel had raised a toast at a company dinner, his eyes calculating as he spoke about loyalty being a fragile thing.
Leon hadn't thought much of it then.
Now he saw it for what it was: a warning disguised as wit.
Back in the present—or instead, the past—Leon sat in the passenger seat of Daniel's old hatchback as the city rolled by outside. The smell of worn fabric and Daniel's cheap cologne filled the car, pulling him further into the reality of this reborn life.
"Are you sure you're good?" Daniel asked again, glancing over.
Leon nodded. "Yeah. Just didn't sleep much."
Daniel chuckled. "Well, today's a hell of a day to be sleep-deprived. First big pitch. Make or break, right?"
Leon smiled faintly. "It'll make."
Daniel raised a brow. "Cocky much?"
"Let's just say I've been through worse."
Leon leaned back in his seat, watching the streets pass by. The building they were heading to—the bank's downtown branch—was one he remembered well. He remembered the anxiety, the doubt, and the way his palms had sweated through his blazer sleeves during that first meeting.
But not this time.
This time, he had the upper hand.
They parked and headed inside. Leon moved with a confidence that Daniel noticed but didn't question. Inside the elevator, Daniel adjusted his tie nervously while Leon stood still, calm, as if he had done this a hundred times before.
Because he had.
"Let me do the talking when we go in," Daniel said. "You always freeze up in these things."
Leon glanced sideways at him and smirked. "Don't worry. I've got it."
The meeting room hadn't changed. Same sterile walls. Same stale coffee in the corner. The two bankers—Mr. Ruiz and Ms. Halden—sat at the polished table, flipping through the preliminary documents.
"Mr. Vercetti. Mr. Reed," Ruiz greeted them. "We've reviewed your initial proposal."
Before Daniel could speak, Leon stepped forward. "Before we begin, I've made some updates to our projections."
Daniel blinked. "Wait—what updates?"
Leon pulled a sleek, modified version of their pitch deck from his bag—one he had stayed up all night crafting based on what he knew the bank had truly cared about: long-term returns, adaptability in volatile markets, and founder commitment.
He slid the deck across the table. "These reflect a more sustainable five-year model. We've also restructured the exit strategy for early investors."
Halden looked impressed. "That was one of our major concerns."
"Addressed," Leon said simply.
Over the next twenty minutes, Leon navigated every question with finesse, anticipating their objections and proposing solutions before they could raise them. Daniel sat in stunned silence beside him, nodding occasionally.
When the meeting ended, Mr. Ruiz shook Leon's hand firmly. "I think we can accelerate this process. Expect a term sheet by next week."
Outside the building, Daniel stopped in the street, staring at him.
"What the hell was that?"
Leon shrugged. "Preparation."
"That wasn't just preparation, man. You spoke like you've been in boardrooms your whole life."
Leon smiled faintly. "Let's just say I've seen how this all plays out before. And I'm making sure it plays out better."
They were interrupted by a sharp voice calling out.
"Leon?"
He turned and froze.
It was her.
A woman in her late twenties, dressed in business casual, with sharp eyes and a clipboard in hand. Riley Nash. Former assistant project manager. Eventually became Gabriel's secret informant.
The same woman who had smiled at Leon's face while leaking his plans behind his back.
Only now... she didn't know what she would become. Not yet.
"Riley," he said smoothly, recovering. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"I'm interning at the bank while I finish my degree," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Small world, huh?"
Leon gave a pleasant smile. "Very."
She smiled back. "Well, good luck with the pitch. Hope it goes well."
"It already did," Leon replied, then turned to Daniel. "Let's go."
Back in the apartment, Daniel was still buzzing.
"Man, I don't know what's gotten into you, but I like it," he said, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the couch. "That was like watching future Leon take over present Leon's body."
Leon didn't respond. He was already clearing the small desk in the corner, setting out notebooks and a stack of folders. The old business plans were there, just like he remembered—scrappy, ambitious, and full of naive optimism.
He opened one and flipped through it, expression unreadable.
"Are you going to work now?" Daniel asked, incredulous. "We just scored our first real win."
Leon didn't look up. "Celebrating can wait."
"You're killing me, man."
Daniel eventually gave up and went to grab some food. Leon, alone now, spread the papers across the desk and began mapping out everything.
He drew a timeline—month by month—listing when the most significant moments happened in the original timeline:
February 2016: First investor meeting with Orion Capital.
April 2017: Expansion into Southeast Asia.
October 2018: Data breach scandal (later traced to an internal mole).
January 2021: Gabriel was brought on as COO.
May 2024: Gabriel's hostile takeover begins.
August 2025: Leon is murdered.
He circled the names of everyone who had played a role, big or small.
Riley Nash.Victor Lang.Miranda Cho.Gabriel Kane.
At the center of it all, in thick red ink: Gabriel.
Then, in the top right corner, he scribbled a phrase: "Track the dominoes before they fall."
He leaned back, staring at the board. He could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins—not from fear, but from purpose. From power.
This was his advantage.
This was his second chance.
He turned on his old phone and set a countdown: 3,650 days. Ten years. Ten years to change everything. Or destroy it all again.
A soft buzz came through the phone—a notification from someone named Elena.
The name sent a jolt through him.
Elena.
He hadn't thought of her in years. She had left early in the company's rise—quietly, without drama. But now he remembered... she had warned him once, hadn't she? About Gabriel. About trusting too easily.
He opened the message. It was simple:
"Heard you're pitching today. Good luck. Call me sometime?"
Leon stared at the screen.
This time, maybe he would.
But not yet.
He stood up, returning to the desk, picking up a pen, and drawing a bold arrow from Gabriel's name to a new phrase scrawled underneath it:
"Eliminate risk before it becomes betrayal."
That night, as the city slept and rain once again tapped against the window, Leon stood in front of the mirror.
His reflection stared back—ten years younger, sharper, but now hardened by the knowledge that came with a price.
He reached forward and touched the glass.
"No more second chances," he said."Now, I don't miss."