Stepping out of his black car, Grayson adjusted the button of his black suit as he analyzed the tall building in front of him with armed men running here and there.
No doubt the company was screaming luxury even from outside.
The guards barely looked at him as he went inside the room.
Walking through the lobby, he ignored everything around him, like seeing anything around him would make him praise his father and he would never do it.
Hate.
This was what he should be feeling for him and nothing else.
A butler stopped his way as he bent down a little and greeted him, "Hello, sir!" He humbly continued, saying, "Mr. Blackwell is waiting for you."
Grayson didn't thank him and reached towards the door where the butler had just pointed.
The doors of the office opened, revealing Alexander Blackwell, sitting on his chair in all his glory.
For a moment, Grayson stopped in his tracks.
The man in front of him looked just like him, just a little older than him. His blue eyes moved up from the glass of whiskey in his hands towards Grayson.
A smirk made its way across Alexander's face.
"I am glad you came…" he paused for a mere moment before he said, "Son."
He searched for any kind of change in Grayson's expression as he called him son but Grayson still had that cold expression on his face.
He wasn't going to show his weak side just because he threw a loving bone towards him.
With a tightened jaw, he took a step towards him.
"Why call me here?" He raised his eyebrows slightly as he continued, "You've spent years pretending I don't exist. You tried to erase me."
Alexander chuckled as he swirled the glass in his hand, "And yet, here you are. Standing before me."
At that moment, Grayson was trying his best to calm himself down. He badly wanted to yell at his father for all the things he did to him. He was never able to feel the love of his father, all because of his selfishness.
All his life he just tried to make himself better, to show everyone that he wasn't just a stain on the Blackwell family.
Alexander leaned forward, "Because you've finally proven yourself worthy."
Grayson wanted to laugh at that man sitting in front of him.
Worthy?
Who was he to judge if he was worthy or not? In fact, it was him who wasn't even worthy of being his father.
Forcing a smirk on his face, Grayson asked bitterly, "And what exactly have I done to earn that honor?"
"I needed to see if you had the strength to survive. And I must say I am impressed." Alexander gestured to the others to leave the room as he continued, "Now that you have, I want you to join me."
Grayson remained still, not knowing what to reply to that sly, selfish man. The anger simmering beneath his skin was controlled, but not gone. "Join you?" He scoffed, his lips twisting into something bitter. "And what exactly does that entail?"
Alexander smirked, his sharp blue eyes gleaming. "More than you ever dreamed."
He reached into the drawer of his desk, pulling out a thick folder. With a deliberate motion, he slid it toward Grayson.
Grayson hesitated before opening it. Inside were documents, offshore accounts, coded ledgers—things far more powerful than mere wealth.
Political influence. Global investments. Entire networks of power woven in secrecy. Monarch Enterprises was nothing compared to this.
"Forget revenge." Alexander's voice was calm, commanding. "The Richards are nothing. Marcus is nothing. Think bigger."
Grayson clenched his jaw, forcing himself to meet his father's gaze. "And what's in it for me?"
Alexander's smirk didn't waver. "You already know."
Grayson took a deep breath.
His father looked at his fingers. "Weakness is sentiment. If you accept this offer, there is no turning back. No ties. No distractions. No baggage." His smirk faded, turning into something colder. "That means cutting off your remaining allies."
Grayson felt something in his chest tighten.
Emery. Clara. Lila. Even Jordan, despite their rocky past.
Alexander continued, unbothered by his son's turmoil. "You've spent years fighting against the inevitable. You were born for more than petty vendettas. It's time to decide, do you want to rule, or do you want to waste your life chasing ghosts?"
Grayson remained silent.
His father had given him an empire. But to claim it, he had to become the very thing he despised.
Meanwhile, back in the city, chaos was already brewing.
Marcus and Jordan stood in the dimly lit study of Marcus's penthouse, a city skyline stretching behind them. A map of Grayson's empire lay on the table, covered in red markings.
"This isn't just about destroying him," Marcus muttered, rolling a whiskey glass between his fingers. "This is about sending a message."
Jordan nodded, arms crossed. "And you think taking Sarah will break him?"
Marcus's smirk was razor-sharp. "Not just break him. It will force him to come to us." He pointed to a marked location. "We grab her, lure him in, and make sure he never walks out."
Jordan hesitated, glancing at Marcus. "And what about Emery?"
Marcus's gaze darkened. "She made her choice. If she gets in the way, she'll burn with the rest of them."
Emery had no idea how deep the betrayal ran until she intercepted the call.
Sitting in the back of a taxi, she stared at the text on her burner phone, her breath catching in her throat.
Target confirmed: Sarah Blackwell. Extraction in 24 hours.
Her fingers clenched around the device.
Sarah.
Emery tried to think of a way at that moment. She had to warn someone, but who? Between Clara, Lila, Grayson who would be able to stop this before it was too late.
Without a second thought, she dialed Clara's number.
"Pick up," she whispered, her pulse pounding. "Pick up, dammit."
Finally, Clara answered. "Emery?"
"There's no time to explain," Emery rushed out. "Marcus is planning to take Sarah. You need to get her somewhere safe—"
A sharp intake of breath on the other end. "Are you sure?"
"I just intercepted the message." Emery turned her head, checking the street behind her. "He's setting a trap for Grayson."
Before Clara could respond, a voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Are you betraying your own blood?"
Emery froze.
Turning slowly, she found herself face-to-face with Mrs. Richard.
The woman's gaze was icy, her lips curled in disgust. "I always knew you'd be ungrateful, but to side with the very man who ruined this family?"
Emery's heartbeat thundered, but she refused to let the fear show. She squared her shoulders, lifting her chin defiantly.
"You stopped being my family the day you chose power over me."
Mrs. Richard's lips thinned, her expression darkening with something dangerous.
Emery didn't wait for whatever threat was coming next. She turned and bolted, disappearing into the night.
She had to stop Marcus before it was too late.
And Grayson was running out of time.
Alexander's cold gaze remained locked on his son as the heavy doors swung open.
A bloodied and battered Mr. Richard was dragged inside, his knees hitting the floor with a sickening thud. He was trying his best to breathe while his suit was torn, his once-arrogant expression replaced with terror.
Grayson's jaw tightened.
Alexander leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "If you want to prove you're ready, there's one loose end to tie up."
A man in a tailored suit stepped forward, placing a sleek, silver pistol into Alexander's open palm.
Alexander calmly pushed it towards Grayson.
"Kill him," he ordered, his voice smooth, almost indifferent. "End the war in one move."
The room fell into a suffocating silence.
Mr. Richard whimpered, his swollen lips trembling.
"Please," he croaked as blood dripped from his temple. "You don't have to do this. I'll disappear. I swear."
Grayson stared at the weapon, his fingers brushing against the cool metal.
His father watched, but there was no expression on his face.
This was it. The moment of no return.
Grayson's pulse thundered in his ears.
He could end this war. Right now.
He could pull the trigger and prove he was just as ruthless, just as powerful.
His finger tightened over the trigger.
Mr. Richard squeezed his eyes shut.
And then...
Click.
Grayson lowered the gun.
"I don't take orders," he said evenly. His voice was quiet, but firm. "Not from you. Not from anyone."
Alexander's expression darkened. "So you're choosing weakness."
Grayson scoffed. "No. I'm choosing my own path."
Before Alexander could respond, Mr. Richard lunged towards him.
There was a blade in his bloodied hands which he had probably hid somewhere in his pocket.
Grayson reacted in an instant, like he knew what was coming his way. He sidestepped as soon as he saw the attack coming his way and slammed his elbow into Mr. Richard's gut.
The older man stumbled back a little, but Grayson moved faster and grabbed his wrist before twisting it. The knife from his hand fell on the ground.