Two weeks after the gala, New Harbor is still buzzing with news and gossip. The financial district can talk about nothing else. Sonar Corporation has officially declared bankruptcy. The filing made front-page news across every major outlet.
Enid's pride is shattered. The woman who once ruled New Harbor's social circles now hides in the mansion, refusing visitors. The servants have been let go. The house feels hollow.
Knuckles suffered a heart attack three days after the stock crash. He's hospitalized now, stable but broken. The stress had been too much. Years of building an empire, gone in weeks.
Charlotte hides from the media. Paparazzi camp outside the mansion gate, former friends won't return her calls. She's become a cautionary tale, a meme and a punchline. The woman who threw away her husband and lost everything.
The once-powerful Sonar family has fallen so far the impact crater is still visible.
Meanwhile, Mavis operates quietly. No press releases, no interviews and no public appearances after the gala. Phoenix Holdings makes moves in the market, but the face behind it remains hidden.
The media calls him "The Phantom Financier." Some think Phoenix Holdings is run by a consortium of foreign investors. Others suspect organized crime. Nobody connects it to Mavis Donard, the broken son-in-law who disappeared.
The System beeps softly:
[Mission Update: Vengeance Progress – 27%.]
[Next Directive: Eliminate Competitive Threats.]
Mavis sits in his penthouse at Phoenix Tower—a glass building in the financial district that now stands taller than Sonar's old headquarters. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a view of the entire city. At night, New Harbor spreads was glowing brightly with lights and power. .
He sips bourbon, watching news coverage on multiple screens.
Lugar Kiwanis appears on international news. Defeated and cornered by financial investigators, he'd fled to Switzerland three days ago, but Mavis had fed federal agents enough evidence to ensure Lugar would never find peace. Embezzlement, fraud, money laundering, the charges keep stacking.
Lugar's face fills the screen, he is disheveled, desperate and being led through an airport in handcuffs.
[Mission Update: Target Lugar Kiwanis – Neutralized.]
Mavis allows himself a faint smirk. "You always wanted to be rich, cousin. Congratulations. Now you're famous too."
Mid-afternoon light filters through the windows. The System flickers to life, projecting a new directive in his vision:
[Mission 2: Establish Market Dominance.]
[Objective: Eliminate three business rivals through economic warfare.]
Mavis scrolls through the names the System provides. Three corporations—all tied to black market operations, hidden arms deals and human trafficking fronts disguised as legitimate businesses. They're not small fish. These are sharks who've operated in shadows for decades.
He exhales slowly. "So this is how you want it."
Over the next month, Mavis wages a silent war.
Using Phoenix Holdings' resources, he manipulates stock prices through carefully timed trades. He arranges insider leaks that trigger SEC investigations. He orchestrates board-level collapses by exposing corruption to rival factions within the companies themselves.
The first corporation falls in two weeks. Leadership was arrested and their assets seized.
The second takes three weeks. A hostile takeover disguised as a merger, then systematic dismantling from within.
The third resists longer, but Mavis is patient. He waits for the perfect moment, then strikes at their weakest point—a shipping contract worth hundreds of millions. When it evaporates, the company crumbles overnight.
The media doesn't see a man at work. They see a ghost manipulating markets. Patterns that make no sense until after the fact, companies imploding for seemingly random reasons.
Employees and investors all talk about a "revenge investor" dismantling corrupt firms overnight. Some call it justice. Others call it terrorism.
Each victory earns Mavis new rewards. His mind sharpens further. His intuition becomes almost supernatural. He can predict market movements three steps ahead, see patterns others miss entirely.
[Skill Acquired: Corporate Foresight.]
But Mavis's activity doesn't go unnoticed.
From the shadows, two new players observe his rise.
Vik'ki Don—the underworld king who controls New Harbor's black markets, weapons trade, and gambling operations. A man who's eliminated competitors for twenty years without ever being touched by law enforcement.
And Mandy Moore—a ruthless corporate raider whose specialty is feeding on chaos. She acquires struggling companies, strips them for parts, and moves on. Some say she has abilities no normal person should possess.
Both send messages.
Vik'ki's arrives via courier as a handwritten note on expensive paper: "You're moving into my city. We should talk."
Mandy comes digitally, appearing on Mavis's private server despite multiple firewalls: "Let's see who survives."
Mavis reads both, then discards them. He's not ready for those fights.
Late one night, he stands on his penthouse balcony. The city spreads before him—millions of lights, millions of lives, all unaware of the war being waged above their heads.
The System pings urgently:
[Mission Expansion: High-Priority Targets Detected.]
[Warning: Two rival system users approaching. Threat level: CRITICAL.]
[Recommendation: Acquire defensive capabilities.]
Mavis turns from the view and walks to his study. He opens a concealed compartment in the wall, revealing weapons he'd acquired through black market contacts. Handguns. A rifle. Ammunition.
He reaches for a Glock 19, checking the magazine automatically. As he does, a memory surfaces—his sister Cherry at age seven, playing cops and robbers in the Donard Estate gardens. Her laughter echoed through the trees.
A sad smile tugs at his lips. He cocks the gun, the sound was sharp in the quiet room.
[Warning: Remain alert. Multiple hostiles detected.]
Mavis returns to the balcony, scanning the street below through binoculars. At first, nothing seems unusual. Late-night traffic with a few pedestrians. The normal rhythm of the city.
Then he spots movement of a figure walking with deliberate purpose toward his building. This isn't random. It was moving like someone with a specific target.
The figure is joined by another, then a third, approaching from a different angle.
They were professional and coordinated.
Mavis grins, setting down the binoculars and checking his weapon one more time.
"Finally," he murmurs. "Someone worth my time."
The first assassin enters the building lobby. Security cameras catch the movement of a woman in dark clothing, her face was obscured. She moves past the front desk like she belongs there.
But as Mavis watches the feeds, more figures appear. These ones are rougher and less refined. Street muscle dressed in leather and carrying visible weapons.
Both attacks, same night. Either terrible coincidence or careful coordination.
The System provides real-time tracking:
[Hostile Count: Seven. Mandy's operatives: Three. Vik'ki's operatives: Four.]
[Threat Assessment: Moderate to High.]
[Combat Protocols: Active.]
Mavis moves away from the balcony, positioning himself with clear sightlines to the penthouse entrance. His enhanced abilities kick in—time seems to slow slightly, his perception sharpening.
The elevator dings.
"Let's see what you've got," he whispers.
The doors open.