Ryan sat alone in the quiet study of the mansion, the heavy tome spread across the desk before him. The Book of Contracts breathed with a life of its own. Its blackened leather cover pulsed faintly under his fingertips, as though it recognised the blood running in his veins. He had fought a demon now, looked into its hollow eyes, felt the terror of facing something not of this world, and since then, the book had changed.
Pages that once lay dormant now stirred. Ink bled across parchment, words appearing where none had been before. Ryan leaned closer, and the script shifted, rearranging itself until it settled into something legible.
Names. Old names. Prominent families threaded into the city's history. Families who held political sway, corporate empires, and generational power. Contracts written in their blood. Bargains sealed with something darker than law or finance.
His pulse quickened when one name burned brighter than the rest--Whintrop.
Ryan's jaw tightened. So that was why the Whintrops had kept the book for so long. It wasn't a trinket, it wasn't a forgotten heirloom buried in some underground vault. Someone in Clarissa's bloodline--her mother, perhaps her ancestors--had made a pact. Demons had been in their shadows all along.
Was that how they built the Whintrop wealth?
The parchment glowed hotter, the letters writhing, and Ryan had to force himself to look away. His temples throbbed, a whisper curling into his ears from the very fibres of the book. A voice promising answers, power, the truth of every hidden deal.
He remembered the Gentleman's warning.
"The book is dangerous. Reading too much at once will taint you. It can mislead, it can consume. A Reaper must master the book--not let the book master him."
Ryan shut it with a hard snap, breathing unevenly. His reflection stared back at him in the dark window, bruised, scarred, yet different. There was a weight in his eyes that hadn't been there weeks ago.
Still, questions clawed at him. The Whintrops. His parents' deaths. All of it had threads tied to this cursed ledger. And Ryan would not sit idle while everyone else wrote his story for him.
Answers. He needed answers.
And he would get them.
The public partnership event was already arranged under Grotech's name. A new deal, a calculated unveiling of power that would shake the corporate world. Clarissa and her mother would be there, of course, they would. They were desperate for the partnership, clinging to their reputation like it was life itself. They would expect to see Grotech as a saviour, faceless and compliant.
Instead, they would see him.
Ryan closed his hand around the book, the weight of it grounding him. His blood hummed with unease, but his resolve hardened. Whatever secrets the Whintrops had bound themselves to, he would expose them. Not as the outcast husband they scorned. Not as the "pathetic excuse of a man." Clarissa spat on.
But as the heir of Ardyn. The Reaper.
---
Clarissa slammed the car door hard enough to make the driver flinch. Her heels struck like hammers against the polished floor of the Whintrop estate as she stormed inside, fury practically burning the air around her.
Her mother was in the lounge with a glass of wine, Matthias standing nearby with his usual unreadable posture. She'd told him to meet her at the house. The moment Clarissa saw them, her words came spilling out like venom.
"He ruined everything!" she snapped, throwing her bag onto the sofa. "Do you know what I endured in that boardroom? I went there to impress the executives of Grotech, to seal our future, and instead, I saw him sitting there like he belonged. Ryan, of all people! That useless man has the audacity to show up where I was supposed to shine. He embarrassed me, undermined me, and for what? To humiliate me further?"
Her mother rolled her eyes, swirling her drink. "Ryan is nothing but a nuisance, darling. Don't let him crawl under your skin. He's always been beneath us. Grotech probably gave him some minor courtesy, no one takes him seriously."
Clarissa gave a bitter laugh. "A courtesy? Mother, he sat at the head of the table. He acted like he was in charge. It was absurd. He's delusional."
She waited for Matthias to echo their disdain, to sneer at Ryan's name as he always did. But Matthias said nothing. He leaned against the mantle, fingers steepled, his eyes distant, thoughtful.
"Matthias," Clarissa pressed, "are you even listening?"
He looked at her then, but not with sympathy. His gaze was sharp, and hungry, gleaming with a satisfaction he didn't bother to voice. The air around him changed, like a predator catching the scent of prey.
Clarissa misread it entirely. She mistook his silence for agreement, his calculation for indifference. She turned back to her mother, ranting on about how she would demand another meeting with Grotech's real leadership, convinced Ryan was an obstacle easily brushed aside.
But Matthias… Matthias saw more. He had been watching Ryan carefully for months, waiting, testing. And what he witnessed today had settled something in his mind. Ryan wasn't just lingering in their shadows. He wasn't the discarded fool Clarissa painted him to be. No, there was more. So much more.
Later that evening, the answer came. Grotech issued a public statement announcing a grand partnership event. A new deal to reshape industries, an unveiling that would command the city's attention.
Clarissa and her mother sat smugly at the announcement, giddy with the thought of aligning themselves with such power. "See?" her mother said, satisfied. Soothing Clarissa. "It was inevitable. Grotech needs us. All Ryan did was slow things down with his theatrics."
Clarissa smirked, already rehearsing her victory. "When we stand beside them at that event, everyone will know the Whintrops are untouchable."
But Matthias sat apart from them,
"It was time," he murmured under his breath.
Time to play his hand.