Power in the Shadows

Damien's penthouse wasn't just a home. It was a fortress.

Jessica didn't know that yet.

She had only been there once, to discuss her "job." But now, Damien stood alone in his private office, watching as the city lights flickered below him.

A soft chime signaled the arrival of a guest.

The door opened.

A man entered, tall, slightly broad-shouldered, with a smirk that didn't quite reach his sharp hazel eyes.

"Late again," Damien muttered without turning.

The man scoffed. "Traffic."

Damien glanced over. "You own a private jet."

"And?" The man grinned, dropping into one of the sleek leather chairs. "Even billionaires get stuck in traffic, Damien."

Damien sighed. "Get to the point, Sam."

Samuel Langford, Vice Chairman of Theduson Enterprises. Damien's right-hand man. His only real friend.

Samuel's smirk faded. "The Valencia shipment was intercepted."

Damien's gaze darkened.

"By who?"

"We don't know yet. Could be the Padrón Syndicate. Could be someone new."

Damien took a slow sip of his whiskey. Someone dared to interfere with his turf?

Sam leaned forward. "You want me to handle it?"

"No," Damien said. "I'll handle it myself."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? This is risky..."

Damien shot him a look.

Samuel sighed. "Fine. But at least take extra security."

Damien didn't respond. He was already thinking about his next move.

Nobody stole from Damien Theduson and lived to tell the story.

Midnight.

A private warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

Damien stepped out of his black Aston Martin, dressed in an all-black suit tailored to perfection yet designed for movement.

His men were already waiting.

Samuel leaned against a crate, arms crossed. "You do realize you could've sent a warning instead of coming in person?"

Damien ignored him and walked inside.

The warehouse smelled of metal, dust, and something darker.

A group of men stood restrained in the center, six of them.

The leader, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, struggled against his restraints. "You made a mistake coming here, Theduson."

Damien's expression didn't change.

"You stole from me."

The man spat. "It wasn't personal."

Damien took a slow step forward. "It is now."

A long silence filled the room.

Then, without warning, Damien drew his gun and fired.

A single shot.

Straight through the man's leg.

A scream tore through the warehouse.

Samuel sighed. "You're in one of those moods."

Damien turned to the rest of the men. His voice was cold, almost bored.

"Return what you took."

Silence.

The leader groaned, blood pooling beneath him.

"You have three seconds," Damien said.

Another moment passed, then one of the others panicked.

"It's in the container! Second row, third from the back!"

Damien's men moved instantly, verifying the claim.

A few moments later, a nod confirmed it.

Damien exhaled. "Good."

Then, without hesitation, he pulled the trigger again.

The leader slumped, lifeless.

The remaining men froze in horror.

Damien turned away. "Clean this up."

Samuel smirked. "Remind me never to steal from you."

Damien adjusted his cufflinks. "As if you'd be stupid enough."

The next morning, Damien sat in his corporate office, a completely different man.

His navy blue suit was crisp, his expression unreadable.

To the world, he was Damien Theduson, billionaire businessman. A man who built an empire from nothing. A genius investor. The most sought-after bachelor in the city.

Nobody knew the blood that stained his hands.

Jessica entered the office hesitantly.

He looked up, his cold expression softening slightly.

"You called for me?" she asked.

He gestured for her to sit.

Jessica sat across from him, feeling out of place in such a luxurious setting.

Damien studied her for a moment before speaking. "Do you like your new position?"

She blinked. "I… haven't done much yet."

"You will," he said simply.

Jessica hesitated.

Something felt off.

Damien was too composed. Too unreadable.

But she pushed it aside and forced a small smile. "Then I'll wait and see."

Damien leaned forward, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Yes," he murmured. "Let's see."