Chapter 10 - Epilogue
Six months later, the financial pages of every major international newspaper carried a front-page feature that sent shockwaves through global markets.
VERITAS CAPITAL ANNOUNCES $5 BILLION GREEN INFRASTRUCTURE INITIATIVE. CHAIRWOMAN ELOWEN VANCE UNVEILS GLOBAL EXPANSION.
A photograph accompanied the article. It wasn't the blurry, long-lens paparazzi shot of a mysterious phantom, nor was it the suppressed image of a dutiful housewife standing in a suburban kitchen. It was an official, commissioned portrait: Elowen Vance, standing tall and resolute against the backdrop of the city skyline, wearing a tailored charcoal suit, her expression cool, confident, and completely unyielding.
Across the city, in a cramped, nondescript basement apartment that smelled faintly of mildew and cheap instant noodles, a broken man sat in front of a flickering television screen.
Weston Prescott stared at the image on the screen, his hair prematurely grayed, his designer suits long since pawned off to pay legal fees. Beside him, boxes of unpacked belongings lined the walls, a reminder of the estate he had lost, the mother who now refused to speak to him, and the empire he had thrown away because he was too blind to recognize the queen sitting right across his dinner table.
He reached for the remote, his hands shaking, but the screen flashed black as the station cut to commercial.
Far above the city, in the quiet sanctuary of the penthouse office at Veritas Capital, I signed the final transfer document, closed the fountain pen, and looked out at the sunrise.
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Some kingdoms are built on sand, designed to crumble at the first sign of a storm. Others are forged in steel and fire, owned by those who never needed a crown to rule.
Mine was the latter. And the game had only just begun.
