CHAPTER 6 – THE FACE WITHOUT A NAME
CHAPTER 6 – THE FACE WITHOUT A NAME
The photograph looked ordinary.
Three smiling businessmen outside a construction project.
Summer.
Twenty-eight years earlier.
Except someone had carefully scratched away the third man's face.
Only the outline remained.
"He erased himself," Thomas said.
"He always does."
Tristan examined the picture closely.
The man's expensive watch.
Tailored suit.
Italian leather shoes.
Nothing unusual.
Until he noticed one small detail.
On the man's tie clip was a silver phoenix.
The same symbol hidden throughout the flash drive.
Project Fallen King.
Architect.
Phoenix.
All connected.
"Who is he?"
Thomas answered with visible hesitation.
"I don't know his real name."
"No one does."
"But every major war between New York's crime families over the last thirty years..."
"...was arranged by him."
"He doesn't build criminal empires."
"He engineers their collapse."
Lily looked confused.
"Why?"
Thomas sighed.
"Because chaos is profitable."
One of the warehouse workers hurried toward them.
"We've intercepted Marcus."
The room instantly became quiet.
The man connected a laptop to a projector.
Security footage filled the wall.
Marcus Doyle stood inside Tristan's own mansion.
He wore one of Tristan's tailored suits.
On his wrist...
Tristan's father's watch.
Marcus slowly raised a glass of champagne before dozens of captains.
"My cousin is dead," he announced.
A wave of shocked whispers spread through the ballroom.
Marcus lowered his head.
"We searched all night."
"There was nothing left."
"I'll avenge him."
Several captains wiped away tears.
Others looked furious.
Exactly as Marcus intended.
Then he produced a document.
"As acting head of the Vail Organization..."
Tristan's eyes narrowed.
Forgery.
Marcus had forged succession papers.
One elderly captain stepped forward.
"I served Adrian Vail."
"I served Tristan."
"I'll never serve you."
Marcus smiled sadly.
"I expected that."
He snapped his fingers.
A gunshot echoed.
The old captain collapsed onto the marble floor.
The ballroom erupted in panic.
Marcus didn't even look down at the body.
"Anyone else?"
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Fear had done what loyalty never could.
Marcus had just taken Tristan's throne.
Live.
In front of every surviving captain.
The warehouse remained completely silent after the video ended.
Then another screen appeared.
An encrypted message.
No sender.
No location.
Only one sentence.
IF YOU WANT YOUR GRANDMOTHER ALIVE... COME HOME ALONE.
Beneath the message was a live video feed.
An elderly woman sat tied to a chair.
Bruised.
Terrified.
But alive.
Tristan's grandmother.
Behind her stood a masked figure wearing black gloves.
The silver phoenix gleamed on his tie clip.
Architect.
For the first time...
May you like
The invisible enemy had stepped onto the board.
And he was smiling directly into the camera.
