Chapter 10:
Three days had passed since the conversation with Lucas. Nothing special had happened since then. Magnus had kept a low profile, moving through the house like a ghost, eating little, speaking less. The mask hung on the wall of his study, watching him with its painted eyes, half joy, half sorrow. He had not worn it. Not yet.
But today, things were about to change.
He stepped out of his house, dressed in a gothic green suit, the color of deep forests and old money. Jessica stood behind him, arms crossed, concern written on her face. She had watched him these past three days, seen the way he stared at maps of the city, the way his fingers traced routes and territories like a general planning a siege. She had not asked. She had learned not to ask.
"You sure you don't need me where you're going?" she asked.
"Yes," Magnus replied calmly. "Focus on keeping the house secure with your team. Oh, and handle any messages sent for me."
With that, he walked off, choosing to take a taxi. He knew better than to use the same car that had been involved in so much recent trouble. It would have made him too easy to track, and he hadn't purchased a new one yet. The taxi was anonymous. The taxi was safe. The taxi was a ghost in a city full of hunters.
A few hours later...
Magnus arrived in front of a towering glass structure: Racing Inc. Benjamin Lefebvre's pride and joy. The building caught the afternoon sun and threw it back, blinding and arrogant, a monument to a man who thought he had already won.
He walked inside and approached the front desk. The receptionist, a young woman in corporate attire, looked up with a polite smile. Her eyes were tired, her lipstick too bright, her nails clicking against the keyboard like insect legs.
"Good afternoon, sir. How may we help you today?"
"I have a meeting with Benjamin Lefebvre," Magnus replied, tucking his hands casually into his pockets.
"And who might you be?" she asked, typing into the system.
"Do you really need to ask...?" a voice came from near the elevators.
Magnus looked up to see a man approaching. Short, messy black hair and sharp red eyes. He wore a fitted black suit with crisp white sneakers. It was him.
Benjamin Lefebvre.
Benjamin extended a hand. "It's a pleasure having you here, Mr. Reinhart."
Magnus smiled as he shook it. The grip was firm, too firm, the handshake of a man who needed to prove something. "The pleasure's all mine."
The receptionist blinked, stunned. She had never seen Magnus in person or even on TV. But there he was: striking, dangerous, charismatic. He moved like he owned the room, like the building was just another piece of furniture he had not decided to sit in yet. One thought dominated her mind:
"Does he have a girlfriend?"
Inside the office...
Benjamin poured whiskey into two crystal glasses as they sat in his private suite. The room was all glass and chrome, cold and expensive, the kind of place where deals were made and men were broken. A view of the city stretched behind him, towers and traffic and lives he would never care about.
"So, what brings you to our humble company today?" Benjamin asked, handing Magnus a glass.
"Business, of course," Magnus replied, taking a sip. "Good stuff."
Benjamin chuckled. "Forgive my stupid question, then. What kind of business?"
Magnus slid a document across the desk. Benjamin took it up and examined the photo. A warehouse. Concrete walls, metal doors, nothing special. But Magnus knew what was inside. He had made sure of it.
"And what exactly am I collecting here?" Benjamin asked.
"Diamonds," Magnus replied. "You'll be transporting them to Reims."
He sipped his whiskey again, letting the burn settle. "Shouldn't be too hard for a man like you."
Benjamin leaned back, smirking. "Not at all. Consider it done. And as for the payment..."
"You'll receive it after the delivery," Magnus interrupted. "As for the business investment..."
He pulled out a pen and scribbled numbers onto a notepad, sliding it toward Benjamin.
Benjamin's eyes widened as he read the numbers. Far more than he expected. Far more than his dying company deserved. For a moment, he stared at Magnus, speechless, before letting out a slow grin. Greed lit up his face like a lamp, ugly and bright.
He reached into a drawer, produced a contract, and handed it over. Magnus skimmed it, signed, and returned it without hesitation. His signature was a slash of ink, quick and final, the mark of a man who did not waste time on second thoughts.
"Welcome into the business, Mr. Reinhart," Benjamin said with satisfaction.
"I feel welcomed indeed," Magnus replied, rising from his seat.
As he left the office, Benjamin remained behind, staring at the paper Magnus had signed. For a dying company like his to receive this much funding and a high-value gig, it felt like a miracle. It felt like Christmas morning. It felt like a noose tightening around his neck, but he was too busy counting the money to feel the rope.
He looked at the numbers again, still unable to believe them.
Later that evening...
Magnus lounged on his couch, watching TV with no particular show in mind, until his phone rang. The screen lit up in the dark room, cutting through the blue glow of the television.
He glanced at the caller ID: Lucas Lefebvre.
A slow smile curved his lips. Just as expected.
He answered. "Lefebvre."
"I thought you were supposed to destroy the business so I could take over!" Lucas snapped. His voice was filled with irritation, the whine of a child who had been promised a toy and did not understand why it had not arrived yet.
"That's the plan," Magnus said coolly, crossing his legs and setting the remote on the table.
"Then why the hell are you boosting it?!"
"Calm down," Magnus said, voice low and deliberate. "We both know how greedy your brother is. Do you really think he can handle a major operation without screwing up?"
Lucas remained silent. Magnus could hear him breathing, sharp and uneven, on the other end.
"And the cash? That's to spice things up... make him overconfident," Magnus continued. "Just wait and watch. The game's only just begun."
"But..."
He ended the call before Lucas could finish his sentence and leaned back, a wicked smile on his face. The room was quiet again, just the hum of the television and the distant sound of Paris outside, breathing and burning.
Everything was going exactly as he planned.
"Let's see, Benjamin Lefebvre... if your ambition will be the very thing that destroys you."