The voice on the line didn't even blink.
"You're who now?"
"Alexander Kingsley," he said again, slower this time, quieter.
There was a pause. He could hear the man shift. Could feel the tension change, like the weight of Alexander's name dropped a full bomb into the silence.
"…You serious?"
"I'm dead serious."
Another beat. "What kinda story are we talking here?"
Alexander looked out the cabin window. Moonlight barely kissed the floorboards. The air was still. Still, except for his heartbeat.
"The truth," he said. "All of it. The fake businesses. The bribes. The hush money. The deals they made behind closed doors and buried in offshore vaults. I've seen it all. Lived through it."
The man let out a breath. Sharp inhale. Static filled the line.
"And you wanna talk now… Why?"
Alexander swallowed. His throat still burned, like smoke was stitched into it. The memory of the fire, of Lila's house turning into ash, clung to his skin like guilt.
"Because they tried to burn someone I love."
That silence again.
Not awkward. But deadly
It stretched out until it felt like a crack in time.
Then, the man finally spoke. "Meet me. Tomorrow. Noon. I'll send a location. You sure you wanna do this?"
Alexander didn't hesitate.
"I'm sure."
He hung up.
Then he sat. For a long time. Didn't move. Didn't blink. Just breathed.
If he did this, there was no return. No second chance. No comfortable lie to run back to. He wouldn't just lose the Kingsley name he'd become its target.
But for the first time in his life, that name didn't feel like a gift. It felt like a cage.
And he was ready to break it.
By sunrise, the town was buzzing. Everyone had something to say about the fire. Some blamed the wiring. Others whispered about sabotage. Lila stood near the blackened skeleton of what used to be her home. Arms crossed. Eyes dry. She wasn't crying anymore. She was done being soft for people who burned.
When Alexander walked up, she didn't look at him. Just said, "I know you're doing something."
"I am."
"And I know it's dangerous."
He nodded. "It is."
She finally turned to face him. And her eyes… they weren't glassy, or sad, or broken.
They were flame.
"Good," she said. "Let them be scared for once.
He kissed her on the forehead. Firm. Fierce. It wasn't romantic.
It was a promise.
Noon came quick.
The location was a half-dead gas station on the edge of nowhere. Abandoned pumps. Graffiti on the walls. A vending machine flickering in the corner like a dying heartbeat.
Alexander waited. Ten minutes. Fifteen.
Then a dusty red sedan rolled up. The man who stepped out wore jeans and a hoodie and looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. He scanned the place like he expected a sniper in the cornfields.
"Kingsley?" he asked.
Alexander nodded.
The man raised a brow. "Damn. You really are him."
Alexander didn't smile. Just handed him a flash drive. "Start with this. Emails. Audio files. Off-the-books receipts. It's all real."
The man took it like it was a bomb.
"Why now?" he asked.
Alexander looked up. The sky was hot and cloudless. "Because I'm done pretending monsters are kings."
They didn't shake hands. Didn't trade names. They just nodded.
And walked.
But silence never lasts long.
That night, his phone rang.
Not the burner. The one Carl gave him.
Unknown Number.
He knew that voice before the first word.
"Do you think you're smart?" The tone was icy. Controlled. Not angry. Worse. Disappointed.
His father.
Alexander's mouth went dry. His legs tensed.
"I know what you've done," Donovan Kingsley said. "And I'm disappointed."
Alexander's grip tightened. "You tried to kill a girl."
"I corrected a mistake," Donovan replied smoothly. "But you… you declared war."
"She's not a mistake."
"She is if she makes my son soft."
"I'm not soft," Alexander said. "I'm finally awake."
There was silence on the other end. Then came a slow chuckle. Not joy. Not humor. Just cruelty wrapped in velvet.
"You think this will destroy me?" Donovan said. "You think the world cares about truth? The world cares about wealth. Status. Control. And I have more of that than you can even imagine."
"Then let's see if it's enough," Alexander whispered.
He hung up before he could hear another word.
And for the first time in years, his hands were shaking not from fear but from power.
The story dropped the next morning.
Headline: THE KINGSLEY FILES — AN EMPIRE BUILT ON SECRETS
It was everywhere. On newsfeeds. Televisions. Papers. Tweets. Videos. Podcasts. Even coffee shops buzzed with whispers.
Carl cornered Alexander in the garage. No smile. No anger. Just disbelief.
"You really did it?" he asked.
Alexander nodded once.
Carl looked him over. Then laughed once. "I don't know whether to fire you or shake your damn hand."
"Do both," Alexander said.
Carl snorted. "You got guts, kid. But guts don't stop bullets. Watch your damn back."
And he wasn't wrong.
Because by nightfall, men in black suits were seen around town. Parked cars with no plates. No movement. Just... eyes.
Alexander caught one watching the shop. Another near the diner. The message wasn't subtle.
We're here.
We see you.
He rushed to Lila.
She wasn't at the creek.
His stomach dropped.
He ran to her neighbor's house, half-mad.
She was there. On the porch. Wrapped in a blanket. Her brother beside her.
"They came," she said, voice flat. "Didn't say much. But the way they looked at us... my mom's shaking. She hasn't stopped."
Alexander dropped to his knees in front of her. Grabbed her hand. "We leave. Tonight."
"Where?"
"Anywhere but here."
She didn't hesitate. "Okay."
They didn't cry. They didn't hug. They just packed.
Quiet. Quick. Gone before sunrise.
No goodbye.
No tears.
Just survival.
They drove until the gas gauge screamed. Reached a nowhere city where no one knew the name Kingsley. Rented a single room. Paid cash. Stayed low.
Nobodies.
It felt... right.
That night, Alexander stared at the ceiling. The paint was cracked. The bed smelled like dust and bleach. Lila curled up beside him.
"I don't care if we're poor forever," she whispered. "Just don't leave me."
He turned, forehead pressed to hers. "Never."
Outside, the world spun.
The empire screamed.
Nathaniel probably had his claws deep in damage control. Donovan probably plotted something darker.
But in that tiny room, with their shoes by the door and their hearts beating the same beat, Alexander felt something he hadn't felt in years.
Not safety, No freedom, No hope.