The Arden Group's boardroom was designed to intimidate. A long obsidian table stretched the length of the room, walls lined with sleek monitors displaying stock tickers, and a skyline view that reminded every man seated there just how high the Ardens stood above the world.
But today, unease hummed in the air.
Victor Arden leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He had inherited the same sharp jawline as his older brother, but none of his polish. Where Adrian's presence filled a room like cold steel, Victor's was coiled fire—restless, impatient, waiting for the spark.
He let the silence hang until it weighed on the other board members, then broke it with a voice smooth as glass but edged with heat.
"Gentlemen, weeks have passed, and yet our chairman-in-waiting has not graced us with his presence. The official statement was an 'accident,' but no details. Investors whisper. Rivals circle like vultures. Are we truly expected to believe Adrian is… recovering quietly?"
The men exchanged wary glances, no one daring to speak first. Finally, one cleared his throat. "Mr. Victor, Walter assures us Mr. Adrian is handling matters privately. His absence, while unusual, is not—"
Victor's laugh cut him off, sharp and humorless. "Not unusual? Adrian hasn't missed a board meeting since he was twenty-one. He doesn't 'rest quietly.' He commands. He controls. And if he were truly fit, he'd be here now. So I ask again—where is my brother?"
The question lingered like smoke. No one answered.
Victor leaned forward, voice dropping to a murmur that still carried through the room. "Mark my words, something is being hidden. And when the truth comes out, this board will answer for its silence."
His eyes flicked toward Walter's empty chair. The absence was louder than words.
---
Later, in the shadowed parking garage beneath Arden Tower, Victor lit a cigarette and leaned against his sleek black coupe. Smoke curled lazily into the dim light as footsteps echoed.
A man in a pinstripe suit approached, hesitant, almost shrinking under Victor's gaze.
"You sent for me, Mr. Victor?"
Victor exhaled a plume of smoke, eyes narrowing. "Yes. I need eyes everywhere—hospitals, private clinics, the Arden estate itself. My brother didn't vanish into thin air. Walter is covering for him, but he's not clever enough to keep me blind forever."
The man shifted uncomfortably. "With respect, sir, if Adrian is… indisposed, the board will eventually—"
Victor's hand shot out, gripping the man's tie and yanking him close. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
"The board will do nothing unless I give them proof. Until then, Walter keeps them chained. Find me that proof. If Adrian is truly crippled, or worse…" His lips curled. "…then it's time the Arden crown found a new head."
He shoved the man back, flicked his cigarette to the ground, and ground it beneath his shoe. "Do not return until you have something I can use."
The man fled, and Victor slid into his car, the engine growling as if echoing the storm inside him.
---
Far from the glittering towers of Manhattan, past winding country roads and iron gates guarded by men in plain black suits, sat a secluded villa. Few knew of its existence, fewer still its purpose. It had been Adrian Arden's retreat—a place untouched by reporters, rivals, or family politics.
Now it was his sanctuary. Or his prison.
Inside, the air was hushed except for the steady rhythm of medical machines. Adrian lay motionless in a king-sized bed, the strength of his frame betrayed by the stillness of his body. Curtains were drawn tight, casting the room in muted twilight.
Walter stood at his bedside, the stern mask of the day stripped away. The loyal aide looked older here, wearier, the lines at his temples carved deep by duty.
He adjusted the blanket with deliberate care before speaking softly.
"Forgive me, young master. I failed you once already. But I will not fail again."
He set his hand lightly on the bedrail, voice lowering into something more intimate, a vow spoken only for Adrian to hear.
"I found him, Adrian. Ethan. Your mirror in blood if not in spirit. He is… unruly, reckless, infuriating. But there is something in him—a spark I had forgotten existed in this house. For now, he will wear your crown in public. For now, he will shield what you built. Until you return."
Walter's eyes glistened, but his tone hardened, resolute.
"Victor circles the board like a wolf. He will test us, prod us, search for your weakness. But he will not find it. Not while I stand, and not while Ethan plays his part."
The steady rhythm of the heart monitor answered him, patient and unwavering.
Walter lingered a moment longer, then straightened, shoulders squared again with the weight of duty. Outside this hidden sanctuary, storms gathered—Victor scheming, investors doubting, whispers thickening in the air.
But here, in the quiet, Walter made himself
into a wall between the empire and its enemies.
Until Adrian woke.