Victory was supposed to feel different.
Kian had won.
Mercer was gone.
Foster was destroyed.
The company was his.
And yet, as he stood on the balcony of his penthouse, whiskey in hand, staring out over the city he now controlled—it didn't feel like the end.
Because power wasn't something you won once.
It was something you had to hold onto.
Every second.
Every day.
And Kian?
He wasn't about to lose it.
---
By morning, Kian was already back at the office, moving as if nothing had changed.
Because in a way, nothing had.
Taking control had never been the hardest part.
Keeping it?
That was where most men failed.
Lila walked into his office, dropping a fresh file onto his desk.
She didn't bother with greetings anymore.
Not after everything.
"You're not going to like this," she muttered.
Kian arched a brow, flipping the file open.