KASIM
The city never truly slept, but from the top floor of Marlowe Global, it bowed at my feet.
Glass walls stretched endlessly around my office, reflecting a skyline stitched with gold lights and restless traffic far below. I stood against it like a shadow carved from steel, one hand tucked in my pocket, the other wrapped loosely around a crystal glass of scotch I hadn't touched.
They call me ruthless. They call me a king without a crown, the man who turned Marlowe Global into an empire no dynasty in Drosvane can rival. Every competitor I crushed, every market I consumed, every titan I dragged to their knees
But no title, no fortune, no empire ever silenced the ghost I carried.
Her.
Seven years.
Seven years of silence, and I still hear her name in every boardroom, every whispered rumor, every sleepless night.
Eldora Owden.
The only woman I ever loved. The only woman who destroyed me.
And yet, tonight, when the city gleamed like a crown, my reflection in the glass betrayed me. The eyes staring back weren't the eyes of a man satisfied. They belonged to someone who had built an empire on ashes and fury.
I remembered her eyes most of all.
Soft, burning, innocent. The last time I'd seen them, they were wet with unshed tears as she turned her back on me. No explanation. No goodbye beyond the silence. Just gone.
The scotch glass cracked faintly under my tightening grip.
I had been seventeen then.I had her smile. I had her promises. I had the world in my hands, or so I thought.I was foolish enough to believe love was stronger than the world. Foolish enough to believe she had chosen me.
But she hadn't. She had left.
I searched for her everywhere. Across cities, across borders, across shadows. I burned money and connections chasing a ghost, but she had vanished as if the earth itself swallowed her whole. For months, madness consumed me. For years, anger fueled me.
Then the whispers came. That the Crown of Drosvane had branded me unfit, dangerous, treacherous. That Eldora's own family had torn us apart. And she—she who had promised forever—had done nothing. Had she believed them? Had she chosen their lies over me?
That was the day Kasim Marlowe died.
And the man the world now fears was born.
I lean against the glass wall of my office, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled to the elbows. A storm brews outside, clouds streaking across the night sky. The rain hasn't fallen yet, but it will.
It always does.
Behind me, silence reigns. My employees have long since learned: when I am here, in this mood, I am not to be disturbed. The conference room could be burning, the stock market collapsing, and still they would not knock. Fear keeps them obedient. Respect keeps them loyal.
And me? I keep nothing.
Not sleep. Not peace. Not her.
I turn from the glass, the city's reflection burning in my eyes. My desk is a battlefield of contracts and acquisitions, yet my attention is pulled only to one file. Black leather-bound, gold seal. A letter of intent from the Owden royal house.
Drosvane, once untouchable, is crumbling. Their empire bleeds from within—political fractures, economic decline. They need me now.
And they dare to send her.
Her.
The phantom princess. The angel the media worships, the darling of charities and royal appearances. The woman who hasn't been seen outside her gilded palace in years.
They want her to stand before me again.
I let out a low laugh. The sound is sharp, humorless, echoing in the empty room.
So this is fate's cruel joke. After seven years of silence, she dares to return—not as the girl I once held, but as the face of a desperate empire.
Good.
Let her come.
Let her see what she created.
I drag my jacket back on, slide the cufflinks into place. The city watches as I step into the storm, the elevator descending like a blade through the tower.
My phone buzzes. It's Jameson, my right hand, my shadow since the beginning.
"She's confirmed," he says without preamble. "Eldora Owden will attend the negotiations herself."
The name tastes like venom on my tongue. My grip tightens on the phone until my knuckles ache.
"Then clear my schedule," I say. My voice is calm, smooth, lethal. "I want nothing else on my desk until I've dealt with her."
"Yes, sir."
The line goes dead.
Seven years, and the ghost finally dares to step into my world again. Seven years, and I'll finally have my answer.
Did she ever love me at all?
The car glides through the streets like a predator in the night, windows tinted black, engine silent. I sit in the backseat, city lights flickering across my reflection. To the world, I am untouchable. But inside, I am nothing but fire and ice, waiting for her shadow to appear again.
I imagine her face—unchanged, or perhaps sharper, older, colder. I imagine her eyes, the way they used to soften when they looked at me. I imagine her lips, the last words she whispered before she disappeared.
No. Not imagine. Remember.
I remember everything.
And if she thinks time has dulled me, she's wrong.
Time has only made me sharper.
The rain begins to fall, streaking the windows with silver. It feels like an omen. A storm is coming. And when Eldora Owden walks into my boardroom, into my world—
I will not be the boy she left behind.
I will be the man who makes her pay.