CHAPTER 3

The rain had returned to the coast. Thunder rolled in slow waves over the cliffs, and lightning flashed faintly across the marble pillars of the Valmere estate. Deep inside the mansion, behind soundproof doors and biometric locks, the conference chamber buzzed with the quiet hum of crisis.

Six brothers sat around a circular table of black glass, the heart of the Valmere Empire.

Each seat bore the insignia of their division: Finance, Strategy, Intelligence, Trade, Weapons, and Power. Together, they didn’t just lead companies, they commanded economies.

But today, even gods of industry looked uneasy.

A dozen holographic projections floated over the table, collapsing stock figures, headlines screaming betrayal, market analysts in chaos.

[BREAKING: CAIN DOMINION WITHDRAWS FROM VALMERE DEFENSE MERGER — GLOBAL IMPACT WORSENS.]

Caelum Valmere, the eldest, leaned back in his chair, his expression calm but unreadable. The faintest crease near his temple was the only sign of anger.

He clasped his hands together, voice quiet but commanding.

“We’ve rebuilt entire industries from ashes. We’ve crushed nations that tried to defy us. And yet… one man pulls a string, and half the world trembles.”

His brothers said nothing.

Lysander Valmere broke the silence first, his tone silk over steel.

“Cain Dominion’s withdrawal wasn’t spontaneous. Luther Cain doesn’t act without layers of reason. It was orchestrated, precision timed, perfectly aimed to hit us where we’re exposed.”

Lucio scowled, his voice sharp with fire.

“He hit us, all right. The defense merger was worth trillions. Years of negotiation, gone in a night. What’s worse, it’s personal. He’s provoking us.”

Aston, the quiet tactician, scrolled through a stream of data before him.

“Provocation implies he wants a reaction. But why now? We’ve coexisted in competition for years, balanced power. What changed?”

Caelum’s gaze sharpened. “That’s what we need to find out.”

Then, from the far side of the room, a low, steady voice spoke, calm as a blade being drawn from its sheath.

“Perhaps,” said Knight Valmere, “it wasn’t a business decision at all.”

The room shifted its focus.

Knight sat in shadow, a specter of control and intelligence. His black suit was immaculate, his tie slightly loosened as though comfort was a foreign concept. Unlike his brothers, he didn’t deal with markets or politics. He dealt with information, secrets, surveillance, and truth.

And in his world, truth was the most dangerous currency.

Knight tapped a small command on the table.

The holograms vanished, replaced by a grainy video feed.

It flickered once, static and darkness, before resolving into shaky footage.

Rain. Headlights. Screams. A private airstrip.

A line of black vehicles. Gunfire in the distance.

The brothers leaned forward.

Then, a flash of movement. A figure, tall, male, dressed in black, stepping from the shadows toward a woman surrounded by chaos.

Her face wasn’t clear, obscured by rain and smoke. But her silhouette was unmistakable to every man in that room.

“That’s Deborah,” Lysander whispered.

Caelum’s jaw tightened. “Where did this come from?”

“One of our offshore surveillance teams,” Knight said. “The Geneva perimeter. Two hours before she boarded her flight home.”

The video continued. The man in black moved swiftly, shooting two attackers with precision. Then, he turned toward Deborah, pulling her out of harm’s way, shielding her from the explosion that followed. The feed glitched, then froze mid-frame, both of them illuminated by a burst of fire behind them.

The image was blurred, but the posture, the protective grip, the familiarity, was impossible to ignore.

Lucio leaned closer. “Who the hell is he?”

Knight adjusted the focus. The image flickered, then sharpened slightly, but the man’s face remained distorted, blurred by light interference and smoke.

“I ran the footage through all our recognition systems,” Knight said. “Facial ID, gait analysis, biometric patterns, nothing matches. It’s as if he doesn’t exist.”

“Or,” Aston murmured, “he’s powerful enough to erase himself.”

Caelum’s expression didn’t change, but his silence grew heavier. “You’re suggesting Luther Cain?”

Knight met his eyes. “I’m suggesting someone who moves like him. Fights like him. Protects her like he would.”

Lucio cursed under his breath. “If that’s him, then he just saved our sister’s life.”

“Or he staged it,” Lysander countered, voice low. “The perfect illusion, make it look like he’s her savior, when in truth, he’s the reason she needed saving.”

Aston nodded slightly. “It’s plausible. The contract collapse, the ambush, her return, all within a 24-hour window.”

“Meaning?” Caelum asked.

“Meaning Cain Dominion didn’t just pull out of the deal,” Aston said. “They detonated it. This was coordinated, a political strike, not a financial one.”

Knight’s gaze flicked back to the paused image. The faint reflection of flames shimmered in the holographic glass, casting orange light over his face.

“And Deborah was caught in the middle.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the soft hiss of the rain outside, pressing against the glass walls.

Then Lysander broke the silence.

“If he touched her—”

Caelum’s voice cut through, cold and final.

“He won’t. Not again. But first, we find out the truth.” He turned to Knight.

“Enhance the footage. Cross-check every shadow, every frame. I want to know where that video ends, and where our sister was taken.”

Knight nodded once. “Already working on it.”

“And when you find him?” Lucio asked.

Caelum’s expression hardened into something lethal.

“We remind the world why the Valmere name is carved into stone , and why those who betray us don’t live to repeat it.”

---

Hours later, the room had emptied. Only Knight remained, his screens alive with flickering data, algorithms racing to sharpen the image.

He replayed the footage again, frame by frame, and stopped just before the explosion. The blurred man turned slightly, just enough for a faint glimpse of his profile.

Knight’s hand froze over the controls.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He simply stared, because for a split second, in the ghostly reflection of the flames, he could have sworn he saw it.

The shape of a jawline. The glint of a ring. And the outline of a familiar insignia, faint, but clear.

The Cain Dominion crest.