56. The first meet

Meanwhile, in Another Part of the City…

Across the city, in a sleek penthouse overlooking the skyline, Logan Hamilton poured himself a drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass. The amber liquid swirled as he lifted it to his lips, but he didn't drink just yet. Instead, he watched the city below—his city.

The skyline stretched endlessly, glowing with power, wealth, and hidden corruption. From up here, it looked almost peaceful. But he knew better. Beneath those glittering lights, deals were being made in the shadows, knives were being sharpened, and enemies lurked behind every well-manicured smile.

Beside him, Ethan Hamilton stood by the window, hands tucked into the pockets of his perfectly tailored suit. His reflection in the glass was sharp, unreadable—much like the man himself. Ethan was a strategist, a tactician. He spoke little but saw everything.

"You know he's going to make a move soon," Ethan said, his voice calm, deliberate. He didn't need to elaborate. They both knew who he meant.

Logan smirked, finally taking a sip of his drink. "Of course he will. The old man never sits still when the family's at stake." His tone was light, but his grip on the glass was firm.

Ethan finally turned to face him. "And you're ready for that?"

Logan chuckled, leaning against the bar. "Let's just say… I've been waiting for this for a long time."

Ethan studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes assessing. Logan had always been a wildcard—the son cast aside, the outsider forced to build his own empire. But Ethan knew one thing for certain: Logan never forgot, and he never forgave.

Ethan's voice was quieter this time, more serious. "Good. Because once this starts, there's no going back."

Logan's smirk faded slightly, his grip tightening on his glass. He knew that.

This wasn't just about power. It wasn't just about money. This was personal.

He set his drink down with a quiet clink, his gaze locking with Ethan's.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken understanding.

Then Ethan moved, pulling a sleek black folder from the table and sliding it toward Logan. "The latest reports. We have eyes on Reginald."

Logan's lips curved slightly, but there was no humor in it. "Marshall's watchdog."

"He's already moving," Ethan confirmed. "As expected. He'll be gathering intelligence first, trying to figure out our endgame before making a move."

Logan exhaled slowly, his fingers tapping against the folder. "Then let's make sure he finds exactly what we want him to find."

Ethan arched a brow. "Misdirection?"

Logan nodded. "We control the narrative. Let him think we're planning one thing while we move in a different direction. We make him chase shadows while we secure our real position."

Ethan considered this, then nodded approvingly. "I'll handle it."

Logan smirked. "I knew I could count on you."

Ethan gave him a long look before turning away, heading toward the door. Just before he stepped out, he spoke without looking back.

"Don't underestimate him, Logan. Marshall's not an old man grasping at power—he's a predator. And he won't hesitate to tear us apart if we give him an opening."

Logan's expression darkened, but his voice remained steady.

"Let him come. He's going to learn that I'm not the same weak kid he threw away."

Ethan said nothing more, only disappearing into the hall, leaving Logan alone in the dimly lit penthouse.

Logan picked up his drink again, swirling the liquid absently before taking another sip.

The war had already begun.

And he was ready.