The city had barely healed from Dominic's execution when another storm began to rise. This one was not born of blades or courts. It was born of coin, contracts, and corporations.
Victor Draemont sat in his glass tower overlooking the skyline, his cane resting beside him. The Iron Tycoon had always been quiet, content to let others fight in the streets, but tonight his role changed. He had Lucius's blessing to seize the heart of the city's wealth.
He adjusted his cufflinks, his sharp eyes scanning reports laid across his desk. Banks were weak, corporations bloated with greed, stock markets unstable. To Victor, these were not signs of danger but invitations.
Lucius entered the office without a sound, his crimson gaze lingering on the city lights below. "Your empire begins tonight, Victor. Build it strong. Build it so that even kings must kneel."
Victor bowed deeply. "My lord, every coin that moves in this city will pass through your hands. Wealth will serve fear, and fear will serve wealth. None will stand against you."
The first move was subtle. Victor quietly bought controlling shares in two failing corporations, turning them into shells that funneled profits into Lucius's estate. No one noticed at first. The companies were small, unremarkable. But they were seeds.
Silvio Marcellus leaned against the glass, watching with amusement. "You plant roots in silence. By the time they see the tree, it will already cast its shadow."
Victor smirked. "That is the point. When they realize, it will be too late."
By week's end, Victor's name began to appear in whispers across boardrooms. Rivals noticed their stocks shrinking, their investors vanishing, their banks losing ground. Some assumed it was coincidence. Others knew it was Draemont.
At the estate, the council gathered. Darius laughed when Victor detailed his progress. "I prefer cutting throats to cutting checks, but I see now the blood you spill is heavier than mine."
Adrian Crowe twitched with excitement. "And I will shield your rise in the courts. If they dare challenge you, I will turn their contracts against them."
Ravenna licked her lips, whispering, "Call me when they scream. Even the rich bleed when they are desperate."
Lucius leaned forward, resting his hand on Victor's shoulder. "You will become the shadow in their banks, the ghost in their ledgers. You will not only feed my empire, Victor. You will make it untouchable."
Victor accepted the weight of his master's will, his eyes hardening with steel. "Consider it done, my lord."
The Tycoon moved again, this time acquiring a bank on the verge of collapse. With Lucius's money hidden behind layers of shell accounts, Victor propped the bank up and made it his own. Overnight, the Devil's fortune became masked within the system.
Soon, businesses across the city found themselves forced to borrow from Draemont-controlled banks. Every contract signed was another chain wrapped around their throats.
Whispers spread among the elite. "Draxion's wealth is growing. We cannot compete." Some resisted, forming quiet alliances. Others abandoned the fight and swore loyalty, preferring servitude to ruin.
Victor played them all with a smile. He offered loans at first, then demanded collateral. He invested in failing industries, then stripped them for profit. His empire spread silently, and every coin that touched his hand ultimately belonged to Lucius.
One night, as Victor looked over the city from his tower, Selene approached him, her chains glinting faintly. "Your hands are clean, yet your cruelty rivals the master's. I once thought only blood could rule. Now I see wealth can choke just as hard."
Victor tapped his cane, his voice calm. "Blood terrifies the streets. Wealth terrifies the world."
Lucius arrived soon after, stepping into the room like the shadow of judgment. His crimson eyes gleamed. "You understand now, Victor. Wealth, law, and blood will be mine. Continue, and this city will not simply kneel. It will worship me."
Victor bowed deeply, a rare smile crossing his lips. "By the time they see the chains, master, it will already be too late to break them."
But far across the city, in rival towers and boardrooms, the first whispers of resistance grew louder. Magnates plotted, their pride wounded when their fortunes threatened. They vowed to strike back.
Victor closed his ledger, sensing the storm on the horizon. "Let them come. The Iron Tycoon does not lose. Not when he walks in the Devil's shadow."
The night outside seemed to darken, as though the city itself understood. The next war would not be of knives or bullets, but of gold and ruin.