Chapter 14 – A Hollow Home

Stepping out of the cab, Ethan Cross adjusted the cuffs of his newly bought jacket. The city buzzed around him, neon lights reflecting off damp pavement, the distant hum of traffic filling the air. He stood for a moment, exhaling slowly, before making his way toward his apartment complex—a run-down building on the quieter side of town.

It wasn't much, but for now, it was home.

The lobby was dimly lit, the overhead light flickering in intervals, casting eerie shadows against the cracked walls. The elevator was out of service, as usual, forcing Ethan to take the stairs. He climbed the narrow, creaky steps in silence, his polished shoes a stark contrast against the dusty floor.

Sliding his key into the door, Ethan pushed it open to reveal the bleak interior of his apartment. Bare walls, peeling paint, and a single overhead bulb that flickered slightly before settling into a dull glow.

His bed—a simple mattress with no headboard—sat in the corner, the sheets neatly arranged but undeniably cheap. A worn-out couch rested near the opposite wall, its cushions slightly sunken from years of use. Near the only window, a wooden desk held his laptop, the device humming softly, still plugged in from earlier.

Ethan walked in and shut the door behind him, locking it securely. The contrast between his true wealth and his current living conditions wasn't lost on him. He had access to more money than most could dream of, yet he lived here—by choice.

It was necessary.

For now, at least.

He set down his shopping bag, pulling out the neatly folded clothes he had bought earlier. Expensive but not flashy—just enough to avoid suspicion while still elevating his presence when needed. His old Oppo phone lay on the desk, screen cracked slightly at the corner, now fully replaced by the Pixel 8 Pro in his pocket.

He glanced at the couch but decided against sitting. Instead, he crossed the room and stood by the window, hands in his pockets, staring out at the city below.

Tonight had been a shift. A quiet but powerful one.

He had met Lucas "Viper" Morelli, a man who controlled the underworld's economy—black market trades, high-stakes gambling, and discreet protection services. A man who bowed the moment he realized who Ethan truly was.

And yet, Ethan knew that power meant nothing if not handled correctly.

Lucas was loyal, but only because he feared him. James Windsor, his butler and right-hand man, had already briefed him on every major player beneath him. The Obsidian Syndicate, the shadow networks, the corrupt officials who thought they were in control—all of them were pieces on a board Ethan now held.

One word from him, and they would crumble.

But brute force wasn't the way.

Not yet.

For now, he needed to move carefully. Observe. Establish deeper control. Make sure that when he finally decided to take everything, there would be no room for resistance.

His eyes flickered to the laptop on his desk.

For years, that laptop had been his main tool, the silent witness to his strategies, investments, and quiet rise in power. Even before inheriting Alexander Langford's empire, Ethan had already been building something of his own.

He sat at the desk, flipping open the screen. The glow illuminated his face as he logged in. His fingers moved with practiced ease, pulling up encrypted files, business reports, financial movements—information he had spent years collecting.

There were things even James Windsor didn't know yet.

Because Ethan Cross wasn't just a successor to someone else's wealth—he was a self-made entity.

And soon, the world would know it.

For now, though, he leaned back in his chair, allowing a rare smirk to touch his lips.

Tonight

had been a step forward.

Tomorrow?

The real game began.