PART 2:
“Wait! Daniel, wait! There must be some mistake!” The woman in the red gown—Eleanor—shrieked as two guards grabbed her arms. Her designer heels scraped uselessly against the polished marble floor.
Her mother, Mrs. Vance, was faring no better. Her perfectly coiffed hair was a chaotic mess as she struggled against a guard twice her size. “Unhand me! Do you know who I am? My husband will have you all fired! He’ll buy this whole building and fire you!”
I stood there, leaning slightly on my mop handle, watching the spectacle. It was pathetic, really. All that fake superiority crumbling into desperate, undignified panic in less than a minute.
“Mrs. Vance,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through their hysterical shrieking like a knife. The entire lobby had fallen dead silent, every eye fixed on us. “Your husband can’t buy this building. Not with the Vance Corporation currently defaulting on three major loans.”
Mrs. Vance froze. All the color drained from her face, leaving her looking like a poorly powdered ghost. “How… how do you know about that?” she gasped.
Eleanor stopped struggling, turning her wide, terrified eyes towards me. “Mom? What is he talking about? You said Dad’s new development deal was going to make us billionaires!”
I chuckled, a low, humorless sound that echoed off the high ceilings. “The development deal? The one concerning the old waterfront district? Yes, that was a lucrative prospect. Until the primary investor pulled out yesterday morning.”
I took a slow step towards them, my grey janitor uniform feeling more like royal armor than ever. “You see, Eleanor, when you broke our engagement two months ago because I ‘didn’t have enough ambition,’ I decided to take your advice. I got ambitious.”
I reached into my pocket, bypassing the solid gold remote, and pulled out a sleek, black titanium card. I held it up between two fingers. The Vance women stared at it as if it were a venomous snake. It was the insignia of Obsidian Holdings—the shadow corporation that had been quietly acquiring real estate and absorbing failing businesses across the city. The same corporation that was the primary investor in the Vance waterfront project.
“I am Obsidian,” I stated simply.
Eleanor let out a choked sob. “No… it’s impossible. You’re just… you’re Daniel. You liked reading books and… and feeding stray cats! You don’t know the first thing about corporate takeovers!”
“I learned quickly,” I replied, my eyes hardening. “And my first lesson was realizing how fragile your world truly is. It’s all smoke and mirrors, Eleanor. Designer dresses bought on credit, luxury cars leased with borrowed money, arrogance built on a foundation of sand.”
I gestured to the guards. “Take them outside. And inform the front desk that Eleanor and Beatrice Vance are permanently banned from all Obsidian properties worldwide.”
“Daniel, please!” Eleanor suddenly wrenched free from one guard and threw herself at my feet, grabbing the hem of my grey trousers. “I was wrong! I see that now! I was stupid and shallow, but… but I always loved you! We can start over! We can rule this empire together!”
I looked down at her. She was a beautiful woman, even with her makeup smeared and her expression twisted in desperation. But I felt nothing. The love I once had for her had been surgically removed the day she laughed at my simple proposal and walked away.
“You don’t love me, Eleanor,” I said softly, stepping back so she fell forward onto the floor she had just dirtied. “You love the gold remote. You love the titanium card. You love the empire. But the man holding them? You despised him.”
I turned away from her, picking up my mop. “Get them out of here.”
The guards didn’t hesitate this time. They practically dragged the screaming, sobbing women through the grand revolving doors and tossed them onto the rain-slicked pavement outside.
Through the massive glass windows, I watched them. Mrs. Vance was shrieking into her phone, likely trying to reach her husband, only to find out the full extent of their ruin. Eleanor just sat in a puddle, staring blankly at the luxury building she was now barred from entering, her red evening gown soaked and ruined.
“Sir?” The head of security, a giant of a man named Marcus, approached me. “Should I call the cleaning crew to finish this area?”
“No, Marcus,” I replied, resuming my mopping. “I’ll finish this section. It keeps me grounded.”
“As you wish, Mr. Sterling.” He hesitated. “Sir, there was a call for you while you were… occupied. From the European branch.”
I paused, the mop squeaking against the marble. “The European branch? What did they say?”
“It’s about the Geneva acquisition. There’s been a complication. The current CEO is refusing to step down, and…” Marcus lowered his voice. “He claims to have information regarding the true origin of your sudden wealth. He says he knows about the ‘Silas Protocol’.”
My grip tightened on the mop handle until my knuckles turned white. The Silas Protocol. A name I hadn’t heard in years. A name that was supposed to be buried deeper than the foundations of this building.
If the Geneva CEO knew about the Silas Protocol, then the game had just escalated to a level far beyond petty revenge on a shallow ex-fiancée. This was no longer about wealth; this was about survival.
The Vance women were just collateral damage in a war they didn’t even know existed. A war that started long before I put on this janitor uniform.
I tossed the mop aside. The floor could wait.
“Get my jet ready,” I commanded, my voice cold and hard. “We’re going to Switzerland.”
As I walked towards the private elevator, leaving the dirty water and the memory of Eleanor behind, I knew one thing for certain: The ultimate payback had just begun, but the true cost of my empire was finally coming due.
And the secrets I had hidden to build it were about to be dragged into the light.
