VEIL OF DECEPTION

Power wasn't just about taking—it was about controlling the urge to lose yourself in it.

And Ethan was dangerously close to the edge.

—

Seraphina's breath was warm against his skin. Her fingers traced slow patterns along his collar, her dark eyes filled with something unreadable.

"You've won the city," she murmured. "But now comes the hard part—keeping it."

Ethan smirked. "You sound concerned."

She chuckled, stepping back just enough to keep him wanting. "I'm curious. You're not the first man to rise overnight, but most of them? They fall just as fast."

Ethan leaned in slightly, voice low. "Then watch me."

Seraphina tilted her head, lips curling. "I intend to."

Then, without another word, she slipped out of his penthouse, leaving behind only the lingering scent of temptation.

—

By morning, the city was alive with whispers. Ethan controlled the underworld now—but not everyone was willing to accept it.

Dominic walked into the office, tossing a file onto Ethan's desk. "We have a problem."

Ethan barely glanced at it. "We always do."

Dominic exhaled sharply. "No. This is different."

Ethan opened the folder. His jaw tightened.

Inside were photos of a man he hadn't seen in years.

Lorenzo Cavalli.

A name that made even the most ruthless men tremble.

Dominic ran a hand through his hair. "Word is, Cavalli's returning to the city. And he's not happy about you taking over."

Ethan shut the folder. "Then we'll have to make him happy."

Dominic frowned. "Ethan—Cavalli doesn't do peace talks. If he's coming back, it's for one reason."

Ethan smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Then we'd better welcome him properly."

—

Night fell. A private airstrip outside the city. A single black jet touched down, its presence sending a ripple of unease through every criminal faction.

Lorenzo Cavalli stepped out.

Tall. Imposing. Dressed in a custom black suit, his silver cufflinks catching the moonlight.

A ghost from the past. A man who had built empires—and burned them down just as easily.

His gaze swept over the waiting figures before him. His voice was smooth, calm—too calm.

"So," Cavalli murmured. "This is the boy who thinks he owns my city."

His men tensed. Guns were ready. The air hummed with impending violence.

And then—

A slow clap.

Ethan stepped forward, unshaken, unafraid. Smiling.

"Welcome home, Cavalli."

The game had just begun.