The roar of the Audi R8’s engine was a sharp, mechanical contrast to the refined silence of the gallery. Up ahead, the headlights of the RS 6 cut through the Veyra night, the two bodyguards inside keeping a steady pace as the lead vehicle. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Behind the wheel of the R8, Elias drove with a focused intensity, his eyes constantly checking the mirrors. Jake sat in the passenger seat, the flickering streetlights casting long, jagged shadows across his face as he scrolled through his phone.

The digital world was already in a frenzy. Financial blogs and news sites were having a field day with the "Sterling Humiliation." One headline on Veyra Financial simply read: Sterling Buys Back His Own Pride for 1.3 Billion. Another from The Daily Ledger was more pointed: The Billion-Mark Warning: Rivers Asserts Dominance.

Jake let out a short, dry laugh, the sound hollow in the dark cabin. "Dominance," he muttered sarcastically. "He should have just cooperated. It would’ve been best for him."

He knew the money wasn’t the killing blow—Julian Sterling had made a fortune shorting the Meridian Group’s stock over the past few weeks, so the liquidity to pay the 1.3 billion was there—but the reputational damage was catastrophic. Julian had been forced to overpay by 300% just to stop Jake from handing his tech subsidiary to a rival.

A notification popped up: a confirmation of the 100,000 mark transfer to Alice Chase. Seconds later, a text arrived from her.

"Thank you for the generous bonus, Sir. Rest assured that I will continue to give my very best."

Jake typed back quickly: "Good. Now rest up. Monday is going to be pretty loud."

"Sir, we’re five minutes out from the address," Elias said quietly.

"Good. Park around the corner," Jake replied, tucking the phone away. "I want to walk the last few yards. Give the guys in the RS 6 a heads-up to keep their distance."

The convoy pulled up to a modest, slightly weathered apartment complex. It was a starkly different world from the Meridian—no valets, no marble, just the faint smell of rain on warm asphalt and the distant hum of a city that didn’t care about equity shares. Jake stepped out, his suit jacket feeling unnecessarily heavy in the quiet residential air.

He buzzed the apartment, and the door clicked open almost instantly. He climbed the stairs to the second floor, where Catharine shared a unit with Lisa and two other girls. When the door opened, the scent of vanilla and tea hit him, a grounding shift from the sterile, perfume-heavy air he’d been breathing all night. Catharine stood there in an oversized sweater, her hair pulled back. She took one look at his face, then her eyes dropped to his hand.

"Well, seeing how you were with rich people, I expected you to be a bit more energetic," she said, stepping aside to let him in. The apartment was quiet; her roommates were either out or asleep.

"It was more of a business meeting, if you ask me," Jake said, his voice a bit raspy. "But a very unpleasant one."

"If you are going to leave home happy only to come back looking like this, then you should just skip such events," Catharine said jokingly.

"I bet you would like that, huh?" Jake said with a weary grin.

"You wish." She led him to the small kitchen table and returned with a first-aid kit. She sat across from him, gently taking his bruised hand in hers. She began dabbing at the split skin with an antiseptic wipe. Jake winced, his fingers twitching as the sting flared.

"I saw the news alerts," Catharine murmured, her focus on his knuckles. "I knew it would be a big night, due to the already trending news of your inheritance, but you somehow turned the event into even more viral news."

"Wasn’t really my intention," Jake said, looking at the ceiling. "The situation demanded a response, and that’s just how it went down."

"Yeah, I guess I kinda expected something to show up in the news. But I didn’t think you’d be responding with your fists at a gallery. Who did this, Jake? Or rather, whose face did you do this to?"

Jake leaned back, the plastic chair creaking under his weight. He watched her work, her movements steady and careful. "Alex," he said.

Catharine paused, the wipe hovering over a cut. She looked up at him, her brow furrowed. "Alex? I thought he was still your best friend and you guys were catching up again. What could he have possibly done to earn this?"

Jake took a breath, the anger he’d been suppressing all evening bubbling back to the surface. "I thought he was, too. But what he did to Aliya... friends don’t do that."

Catharine stopped moving entirely. "What did he do?"

"He didn’t just date her behind my back," Jake said, his jaw tightening so hard it hurt. "While I was busy trading and trying to change the situation at home, he got her pregnant. Then he took her to some backstreet clinic and forced her into an abortion. He did it on the cheap, with no regard for her safety. She’s fine physically now, but the damage is permanent. She can’t conceive. Ever."

Catharine let out a soft, horrified breath, her hand tightening around his. "Oh, God. Jake... I had no idea."

"He acted like it was just something small that wasn’t worth his time," Jake continued, his eyes cold and distant. "So, yeah. I hit him. He tried defending himself with lies, claiming it was her choice or that I wouldn’t understand, but what Alex did to my sister... that’s a debt he can’t pay back with a check."

"I’m so sorry," Catharine whispered. She finished bandaging his hand, her thumb tracing the edge of the gauze. "You’ve had to be a monster all night for the cameras. You can stop now."

Jake looked at her, the warmth of her hand helping to dull the sharp edges of his rage. "I thought having power would make me invisible, yet I got backstabbed by my own brother," he admitted.

"Power usually doesn’t," she replied softly. "It’s just a tool, Jake. Don’t let it become the destination."

He stood up slowly, leaning over to give her the kiss he’d promised. It was a quiet, lingering moment of genuine connection amidst a week of calculated moves. "I should go. The guys are waiting, plus we might wake Lisa and the others."

"Be careful," she said, walking him to the door. "I heard you made a fool out of Sterling, but powerful men like him don’t take being laughed at very well."

---

Miles away, in the darkened sanctuary of a private study, a crystal glass shattered against a wood-paneled wall.

Julian Sterling stood by his desk, his chest heaving. On his monitor, a looped clip of the auction showed the audience snickering as the final bid was announced. He had the liquidity—the millions he’d made shorting the Meridian stock had seen to that—but he had never been humiliated like this. Not by a Rivers.

"The disrespect," he hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief. "The absolute, unmitigated gall. If they wish for war, then they will get one. They think they can just seize what’s mine?"

He slumped into his leather chair, his mind racing. He needed to protect his remaining assets from the seizure threats Aurelia Capitals was waving over his head. He began typing rapidly, initiating a series of complex wire transfers to offshore holdings and setting up legal firewalls through a dozen shell companies. He wouldn’t let Jake Rivers take another cent without a fight that would drag on for a decade.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number he rarely used. This wasn’t a call to a lawyer or a CFO. It was to a contact who operated in the grey spaces of Veyra.

"Rivers thinks he can play the corporate game?" Sterling hissed into the receiver. "Fine. But if I can’t get him in the gallery, I’ll take what he actually cares about. Find out where he goes when the cameras are off. Find out who he sees. I want him to feel exactly as exposed as I did tonight."

---

He hung up, staring at the shattered glass on the floor. The 1.3 billion was paid, the shares were back in his hand, but the war had just shifted from the boardroom to the streets.

Jake settled back into the leather seat of the R8. The city lights of Veyra blurred past as the small convoy headed toward his home. He looked at his bandaged hand, the image of the auction gavel falling in his mind being slowly replaced by the image of Aliya’s face.

He had humiliated a titan and crippled a rival, but as the car moved through the quiet streets, he realized he had essentially painted a massive target on his back.

Every vulture in the city was watching him now, waiting for the new player to trip. Jake closed his eyes, the roar of the engine the only thing keeping the silence of the night at bay. The "aftershocks" were just beginning.

---