55. Hamilton war begin

Marshall Everett Hamilton sat in his vast, dimly lit study, his fingers steepled together in contemplation. The soft glow of a whiskey decanter reflected off the polished wood of his desk, but tonight, the drink was untouched. His sharp, calculating eyes followed Victor's retreating figure as he left the room, his expression unreadable.

The heavy oak doors closed with a quiet thud, leaving Marshall alone with his thoughts. Silence settled over the room like an oppressive weight, interrupted only by the faint crackling of the fireplace. He exhaled slowly, his breath steady, but his mind was anything but.

For years, Marshall had deliberately kept himself above the intricate battles within the Hamilton family. He had always been aware of the political maneuvering, the subtle manipulations, the hidden betrayals that festered beneath the polished veneer of power. But he had never deemed it necessary to interfere. After all, he had trained his sons well—he had believed Matthew and Victor could handle the internal affairs.

Yet now, for the first time, a shadow of unease settled over him.

Logan and Ethan.

Two names that, individually, were formidable enough. But together?

**A force to be reckoned with.**

Marshall leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly against the mahogany desk. His gaze flickered toward the towering bookshelf that lined the study's walls—filled with records, intelligence reports, and decades of family history. Somewhere in those pages lay the answers he sought, but this time, intuition spoke louder than any document.

Logan Hamilton—the son Victor had cast aside, who had carved his own empire in the shadows. A man raised in rejection and shaped by survival.

Ethan Hamilton—the dark horse, the silent strategist, the one who never spoke more than necessary but saw everything. His ambitions had always been a mystery, even to Marshall.

Marshall let out a slow, measured breath. He was confident in his own strength, his own influence. But even he had to admit—if those two joined forces, even he would struggle to secure a decisive victory. A win was possible, of course—Marshall was never one to underestimate himself. But it would be costly. Too costly.

And worst of all, if his battle with Logan and Ethan weakened him, it would invite external threats.

The Hamilton family had never lacked enemies. There were countless hungry wolves watching from the sidelines, waiting for even the slightest sign of weakness. If the internal war escalated, those vultures would descend upon them in an instant.

No. He could not afford that.

Marshall reached for the intercom on his desk and pressed a button. His voice was calm, but it carried an unshakable authority.

"Reginald," he called.

There was a slight pause before the door creaked open.

From the dimly lit corridor stepped Reginald Montgomery—the Hamilton family's loyal butler. To the outside world, he was nothing more than a refined, elderly servant, a figure who had been with the family for decades.

But in reality?

Reginald was far more than that.

Few knew that behind his polite demeanor lay one of Marshall's most deadly and trusted operatives. A man who had once been a legend in the intelligence world—until Marshall personally recruited him to serve the Hamilton family.

Reginald approached the desk with measured steps, bowing slightly. "You called, sir?" His voice was smooth, unwavering.

Marshall didn't waste time. "I need you to investigate something."

Reginald's sharp eyes flickered with understanding. "Logan Hamilton?"

"And Ethan," Marshall confirmed. "I want every move they make tracked. Who they meet, where they go, what alliances they are forming. If they are working together, I want to know why—and more importantly, I want to know how deep their partnership runs."

Reginald nodded slightly, his expression unreadable. "Understood. Do you want me to make contact?"

Marshall hesitated for a fraction of a second.

No. Not yet.

If Logan and Ethan truly were aligning, then that meant they had a reason. Something was happening beneath the surface, something that even he had yet to grasp. The last thing he wanted to do was make a premature move and tip them off.

"Not for now," he said finally. "I want to understand their motives first. Observe from the shadows—unseen, unheard. When the time is right, we will make our move."

Reginald studied Marshall for a long moment before giving a slight nod. "As you wish."

Just as he turned to leave, Marshall added, "One more thing."

Reginald paused. "Yes, sir?"

Marshall's gaze darkened. "If you find anyone else sniffing around our family's affairs—deal with them accordingly."

Reginald gave a knowing smile. "Understood."

And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving Marshall alone with his thoughts.

The Hamilton war had begun.