Chapter One
The Final Act
The year was 2029.
Backstage at the crystal Theatre on Broadway, New York, a man sat beneath the glow of warm dressing-room lights while the world outside roared his name.
Inside the room, however, there was only stillness.
Dominic sat before the mirror, posture relaxed yet deliberate, like a king moments before stepping into court. He wore an embroidered couture suit, black as midnight and stitched with intricate silver patterns that shimmered subtly whenever he moved. The craftsmanship was exquisite — not loud, not gaudy — but unmistakably elite.
His black hair was styled in a sleek slicked-back undercut, combed away from his forehead with controlled volume. It gave him a refined sharpness often seen among East Asian stars on red carpets — disciplined, composed, noble. His dark eyes were steady, reflective.
At first glance, his features leaned Asian — clean lines, sharp jaw, balanced symmetry. But his complexion carried a deeper warmth, hinting at African ancestry woven quietly into his bloodline. It made him striking. Difficult to categorize. Impossible to ignore.
He studied his reflection, not with vanity — but with detachment.
A child abandoned before memory could form.
Left in America with no surname worth inheriting.
His life had never been dramatic in the way tabloids preferred. There were no violent tragedies, no heroic rescues. Only silence. Institutional walls. Shared bedrooms. The quiet understanding that no one was coming back.
He had been intelligent. Exceptionally so.
But intelligence does not teach you how to belong.
School had been a place of observation rather than participation. He understood equations. He understood literature. He did not understand people. Isolation became routine — something he wore as naturally as breathing.
He had never held someone's hand under nervous starlight. Never received a confession behind lockers. Romance belonged to scripts, not reality.
After leaving school, survival replaced adolescence. He worked relentlessly — cafés, late-night storage rooms, delivery shifts. Sleep was negotiable. Ambition was not.
then one night. he snuck into a studio which was doing auditions, with the sole purpose of stealing from the people inside. but as he snack behind one of the security guards they caught him, and intended to interrogate him to find out who he is. As he had no option he tried to act his way out of it by pretending he was there for the auditions. he was fairly successful and was about to convince the guards he was actually innocent
And someone noticed.
A manager — perceptive, opportunistic — saw not a liar or a thief, but an actor. Dominic was offered an audition.
He passed.
Then he passed again.
Until the nameless orphan became the brightest star of his generation. who's appearance in a million dollars project can turn it into a billion dollars project. he won so many Oscar that most actors didn't even bother to come to the Oscars again. and as his popularity got higher and higher he went into other industries of art, from singing to poetry to commercials anything that had acting involved, they were rumors that he even went into p***, but no one could find any evidence his popularity reached a level where even politicians and businessman like president and many others had to treat him with respect, as a single word from him quote jeopardize their votes in election and their reputation, Some say if he truly does want a influential figure to be removed for any reason just saying it to his fans could caused their assassination of such influential figure, as it has been confirmed that even some terrorist, drug lords and many others in the criminal industry are big fans of his who are willing to do anything for an autograph especially the woman and drug lords who wanted to please their sons, daughters and wife by getting the autograph for them, so most of the powerful man and woman in the world made sure not to cross him, as they knew that things could go badly for them if they attempt to harm him, as this could even move on to become something that they couldn't handle.
A soft knock interrupted the quiet.
His assistant stepped inside, tablet held carefully against her chest.
"It's time," she said gently. Then her voice faltered. "Are you sure about this?"
Dominic turned his head slightly, a faint smile forming.
"Has the great Dominic ever been unsure about something?"
She smiled, though worry lingered in her eyes. She moved toward the door, hesitated, then looked back.
"You've never been unsure," she said softly. "But the world will miss you once you're gone."
He did not answer.
He simply stood.
The hallway beyond the dressing room vibrated with distant cheers. Each step toward the stage felt measured — ceremonial.
At the staircase leading upward, Dominic paused.
He inhaled once.
Slowly.
Then he ascended.
The moment he stepped onto the stage, the theater erupted.
Thunderous applause.
Screams that shattered restraint.
His name echoed in waves across the hall. Thousands stood, hands raised, voices breaking just to be heard by him.
Dominic smiled.
He smiled at the women calling his name.
At the men applauding with admiration.
At the fans who believed they knew him.
He lifted a hand slightly.
The roar gradually softened.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, voice smooth and perfectly projected, "today, I have an important announcement."
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
"I am officially performing my last act."
The words struck like a blade.
The theater fell into stunned silence.
A single voice broke it.
"Why?"
Then another.
"Why?!"
"Did something happen?"
"Was it the government?"
"Tell us! We'll handle it for you!"
Panic spread through devotion.
when Dominic heard this he knew they were serious as most people who are allowed into this theater are either very rich or very influential.
Dominic watched them — calm, almost gentle.
"Well," he said, voice measured, "I suppose I owe you an explanation."
The murmurs quieted once more.
They leaned forward now — not cheering, not screaming — but waiting.
Waiting for their star to justify the impossible.
"Have you ever wondered," Dominic began, "who is truly in charge?"
Confusion rippled through the crowd.
Some wandering what this has to do with him performing his final act.
"Who really governs this world?" he continued. "Is it the president? The government? The wealthy elite? The corporations? The public figures you admire?"
His gaze swept across the hall.
"Who," he asked softly, "actually holds the power?"
Silence thickened.
He let them sit with it.
Then, slowly, he raised one hand toward the ceiling.
The massive digital screen behind him flickered.
A timer appeared.
01:00:00
One hour.
Gasps echoed like scattered thunder.
Dominic lowered his hand.
"What is power?" he asked. "When this countdown reaches zero… every question you have ever asked will be answered."
No one moved.
"Every secret," he continued, "every truth hidden behind influence, fear, and convenience — I will reveal it to you."
The air felt heavy.
Fragile.
He opened both hands, palms outward.
"So," he said, a faint smile curving at his lips, "who is ready for the final act?"
The timer began to count down.
59:59
59:58
59:57
.....