The city lights burned against the night like scattered jewels, but Malcolm Veyra didn't see beauty in them. He saw vultures. Rivals. Thieves. Every glow was a company, a brand, a competitor clawing at his empire.
He sat in his office long after his executives had scurried ho, the silence broken only by the faint crackle of a cigarette left to smolder in the ashtray beside him. A tumbler of whiskey sat untouched at his elbow. Malcolm rarely drank when he was angry. And right now, he was very, very angry.
Titan Skincare had been a fortress for years. Their moisturizer line had been the golden standard in the industry, dominating shelves, magazines, influencers, everything. Even the whispers of competitors had never co close to threatening his hold.
Then, out of nowhere, a ghost brand had gutted him.
Eversage.
A company no one had heard of half a year ago. A na without history, without lineage, without bloodlines. And yet sohow, they had unleashed a product so effective, so rapid, that Titan's miracle formula looked like a child's concoction in comparison.
And worst of all—he couldn't touch them.
Malcolm leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking under the tension in his shoulders. His reflection glared back at him from the floor-to-ceiling window: silver at the temples, jaw tight with rage, eyes bloodshot with sleepless calculation.
A knock broke the silence.
"Enter," Malcolm said flatly.
The door opened, and a man stepped inside. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black with no tie. His hair was cropped short, his movents efficient, quiet. There was no hesitation in his stride—only the certainty of soone who'd spent a lifeti walking into dangerous rooms.
"Good evening, sir." The man's voice was low, even. "You called."
Malcolm gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit."
The man lowered himself into the seat, folding his hands calmly on the table. This was Kade rcer—ex-military, ex-corporate security, and Malcolm's fixer. The kind of man who solved problems that lawyers and PR firms couldn't.
Malcolm's gaze narrowed. "Tell you have more than what those fools in suits brought today."
Kade's expression didn't change. "I traced what I could. Company filings, trade licenses, logistics contracts. Every ti, the trail circles back to the sa nas—Natalie Su and Hendricks Vale."
Malcolm's jaw clenched. "Faces. Pawns."
"Most likely, yes." Kade paused, his eyes eting Malcolm's steadily. "But here's the strange part. The paper trail doesn't just stop with them. It's been… scrubbed. Rewritten."
Malcolm frowned. "Explain."
Kade leaned forward slightly. "I've seen shell companies. I've seen dummy boards, fake investors, offshore smokescreens. This isn't that. Whoever's behind Eversage didn't just hide their identity—they erased it. Digital filings, shipping manifests, financial histories. It's as if the company was only born six months ago. Before that? Nothing. No suppliers, no testing labs, no developnt notes. Clean slate."
Malcolm's cigarette hissed as he crushed it into the tray. "So soone buried the trail."
"Yes. And not an amateur. This was done by soone who knew exactly where to cut and how deep to bury. I'd say ex-governnt or corporate-grade systems security. The kind of person who makes their living keeping secrets untouchable."
For the first ti that night, Malcolm's fury cooled, replaced by sothing sharper. Intrigue.
"So…" His lips curved into a slow smile. "They're hiding behind ghosts and firewalls."
Kade nodded. "Which ans two things. One, whoever's backing Eversage has reach. And two… they're afraid."
Malcolm laughed softly, the sound low and bitter. "Afraid of ."
He stood abruptly, pacing to the window again. The city shimred below, oblivious to the war being declared above it.
"Very well," Malcolm said, turning back. His voice was steady now, almost calm. "If they hide in the dark, then we drag them into the light. Start with their supply chain. Cut their legs from under them."
Kade's brow arched. "Suppliers, distributors, logistics?"
"All of it. Buy out their shelf space. Bribe their shippers. Leak rumors about contaminated batches if you have to. I don't care if you burn money. Make them bleed."
"And when they respond?"
Malcolm's eyes narrowed. "Then we'll know where to press harder."
Kade gave a short nod, rising to his feet. "I'll put the word out."
"Not just word," Malcolm snapped. "Action. I want results before the week is out."
The fixer inclined his head, then left as quietly as he had entered.
The office fell silent again, save for the hum of the city outside.
Malcolm sank back into his chair, pulling the untouched whiskey close. He swirled it slowly, watching the amber liquid catch the light.
Whoever shielded Eversage had skill. Malcolm could admit that much. Most CEOs would have gone on the defensive, scrambling to protect what they had left. But not him. He'd built Titan by crushing rivals until no one dared challenge him. He wasn't about to let a phantom brand rewrite his story.
His gaze drifted back to the reports scattered across his desk. Pages of numbers, projections, loss margins, headlines mocking Titan's "fall from grace."
He tore one page in half, then another, the sound of ripping paper filling the room.
"They think they're clever," he muttered to himself. "They think faceless nas and polished smiles will save them."
The whiskey glass hit the table with a sharp clink.
"No one replaces . Not in this city. Not anywhere."
He rose and crossed to the fireplace, tossing the shredded papers into the flas. They curled and blackened, the words disappearing into smoke.
Malcolm watched them burn, his reflection flickering in the glass. His eyes glead with sothing colder than anger now. Purpose.
"Enjoy your mont, Eversage," he whispered. "However long it lasts. Because I will find you. And when I do…" His lips curved into a razor's smile. "…your empire will burn with you."
The flas roared higher, swallowing the last of the reports.
And in the silence that followed, Malcolm Veyra began to plan his war.
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