Chapter Four: Shadows at the Table

Victor Hargrove sat in the back seat of his black Bentley, his mind racing as the car sliced through the city streets. The meeting with Margaret had left him with more questions than answers, and her warning about Jared rattled him in a way he hadn't felt in years.

Avalon.

The word alone was a landmine, a reminder of a past he had meticulously buried. It wasn't just a business deal gone wrong—it was the moment his ambition had crossed into betrayal. And if Jared was truly prepared to bring it to light, Victor's empire could crumble in days.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Angela.

"Tell me you have news," Victor said as he answered.

"Jared's been quiet, but not idle," Angela replied, her voice sharp and efficient. "We traced one of his shell companies. He's buying up Apex stock, trying to position himself as a spoiler in your takeover. He's also been talking to the press."

Victor exhaled, his grip tightening on the phone. "What's his angle?"

"Hard to say, but if he's leaking anything about Avalon—"

"He won't," Victor interrupted, though the certainty in his voice wavered. "He's bluffing."

"Victor, you can't afford to assume that. If Jared's working the media, he's laying the groundwork for something bigger."

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose. Jared was a wild card, someone who thrived on chaos and knew how to weaponize it. He wasn't bluffing—not entirely.

"Find out who he's talking to and shut it down," Victor said. "I don't care what it costs."

Angela hesitated. "There's one more thing. Margaret was seen leaving the Braddock an hour ago. Word's already spreading that you met with her."

Victor's jaw clenched. The corporate world thrived on speculation, and a meeting between two high-profile rivals was the perfect fuel for rumors. If Jared got wind of it, he'd spin it into something disastrous.

"Let them speculate," Victor said. "I'll deal with Margaret."

He ended the call and stared out the window as the city blurred past. Manhattan was a battlefield, its towers and lights a testament to power and ambition. But power wasn't invincible—it was fragile, a house of cards waiting for the wrong gust of wind.

When the car pulled up to his penthouse, Victor stepped out and headed for the elevator. The silence of the building pressed down on him as he entered the apartment. The space was immaculate, every surface gleaming, but tonight it felt cold, empty.

As he poured himself a drink, his mind drifted to Jared. They had been friends once, bound by the shared struggle of clawing their way out of obscurity. But Avalon had changed everything. Jared had been the idealist, the one who believed in building something real. Victor had been the pragmatist, willing to sacrifice anything—or anyone—for success.

The fallout had been inevitable.

Victor's phone buzzed again, and this time the message made his blood run cold.

"Let's talk. You owe me that much. Midnight. The old office."

Jared.

Victor stared at the screen, weighing his options. Meeting Jared was a risk, but ignoring him might be worse. The old office was a deliberate choice—a callback to their early days, when they had shared dreams and a dingy startup space on the edge of Brooklyn. It was a power play, a reminder of everything they had been before greed and betrayal tore them apart.

Victor grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator. If Jared wanted to talk, Victor would give him exactly what he wanted. But this time, there would be no room for sentimentality.

The old office was a relic of their past, a small industrial loft that had been abandoned for years. As Victor pushed open the rusted door, the smell of dust and decay filled his senses. The space was dimly lit, a single bulb casting long shadows across the cracked concrete floor.

Jared was already there, leaning against a pillar with a casual confidence that belied the tension in the air. His suit was less polished than Victor's, but his eyes held the same sharp edge they always had.

"You came," Jared said, his voice laced with mock surprise.

"You gave me little choice," Victor replied, stepping closer.

Jared smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Still the same, aren't you? Always acting like you're in control, even when the ground's crumbling beneath your feet."

Victor's gaze didn't waver. "If you brought me here to rehash the past, save it. What do you want?"

Jared's expression darkened. "What I've always wanted—justice. You took everything, Victor. Avalon was supposed to be our future, and you turned it into a graveyard."

Victor felt the familiar flicker of guilt, but he buried it beneath a layer of cold pragmatism. "Avalon was a mistake. I did what I had to do to survive."

"And I paid the price," Jared snapped. "You didn't just destroy the company—you destroyed me. You think I'm going to let you walk away from that?"

Victor stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "What's your plan, Jared? Leak some ancient dirt to the press? Take a swing at me in court? None of it will stick. You're out of your depth."

Jared's smirk returned, but this time it was tinged with triumph. "You think you've covered your tracks, but you missed something. I have proof, Victor. Proof that ties you to Avalon's collapse—and to everything you did to cover it up."

Victor's heart pounded, but he didn't let it show. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" Jared reached into his jacket and pulled out a flash drive, holding it up like a trophy. "This is my insurance policy. And if anything happens to me, it goes public."

Victor's mind raced. Jared wasn't bluffing, not entirely. The question was how much he actually knew—and how far he was willing to go.

"What do you want?" Victor asked, his voice cold.

Jared's smile faded, replaced by something darker. "I want you to feel what it's like to lose everything. Just like I did."

The room fell silent, the weight of Jared's words hanging in the air. Victor's empire was built on power, cunning, and ruthlessness—but for the first time, he felt the ground shift beneath his feet.

And in that moment, he realized the battle with Jared wasn't just about survival. It was about redemption—or the lack of it.