For the Next Week
Simon remained at home, settling into a rhythm that felt almost unfamiliar after the chaos of the past few days.
Each morning began with rigorous physical training in the courtyard—push-ups, weighted sprints, combat drills. His movements were sharp and controlled, every strike a testament to the discipline he'd honed alone in the wilderness.
At night, after Olivia had gone to bed and the house had fallen silent, Simon entered deep meditation. Astral energy flowed into him like a steady tide, pulsing through his body, strengthening his core and sharpening his senses.
During the day, when not training or absorbing energy, he helped his father around the house—cutting vegetables, washing dishes, and occasionally bickering over the "correct" way to make scrambled eggs.
It was a strange kind of peace. Simple. Grounded.
Until, one late afternoon, his phone rang.
Simon glanced at the ID: Eira Sylvana.
He stepped outside for some fresh air and answered the call.
Her voice came through, clear and composed. "Simon."
"Miss," he replied, leaning against the stone railing.
"I have an update regarding the Crown family."
He waited in silence.
"They've agreed to a full compensation package. Five hundred million credits will be transferred to your account within the next two days. In addition, every asset and loss your father's company suffered—through what we'll call 'indirect sabotage'—will be reimbursed."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect them to fold so quickly."
"They didn't," Eira said. "They only gave in after we made our involvement public. Once our company appeared on the board… well, let's just say their pride couldn't survive the pressure."
"Hmm." Simon exhaled, eyes scanning the horizon.
"There is one catch," she added. "A minor one. After finalizing the agreement, they made a request—not a demand."
"What kind of request?"
"They want to meet you. In person."
Simon's brow lifted, but Eira continued before he could respond.
"It's not mandatory. You can decline, and it won't affect the payout. But it seems they want a face-to-face meeting. Maybe to save face, maybe to evaluate who you really are—now that they know you're not just some vengeful heir."
Simon was quiet for a long moment.
"What do you think?" he asked.
"I think they're testing the new landscape," she replied. "You disrupted their balance. They're not used to being forced to pay for debts they thought they'd buried. You're a variable they didn't account for—and now, a threat."
Simon gave a low hum. "I'm neither enemy nor ally."
Eira gave a dry chuckle. "Exactly. That's what unsettles them."
Another pause.
Then Simon spoke, his voice steady but cold. "Tell them, no."
There was a brief silence. "Understood. Anything else you want me to say?"
"Yes," Simon said, tone dropping to steel. "Send them a warning."
Eira waited.
"If they ever touch my family again—" his voice sharpened like a blade, "—there won't be any negotiations. No five hundred million. No second chances. Only consequences."
His gaze hardened as he looked at the sky.
"I won't come for their money next time. I'll come for their lives."
Silence lingered.
"…Understood," Eira said finally. "I'll make sure the message is heard—loud and clear."
"Good."
Simon ended the call without another word.
He tucked the device back into his pocket and stood in the fading afternoon light, gaze locked on the horizon.
This time, the Crown family paid in money.
There wouldn't be a next time.
Two Days Later
Two days after the funds were transferred to his account, Simon received quiet but decisive news:
The Crown family had officially pulled out of Riverstone Base City.
Every division of their operations—offices, subsidiaries, partnerships—was gone. Their entire presence had been withdrawn and relocated to their home base city in Alpha creed Base City.
Not a trace remained.
Simon didn't believe it was a retreat. It was a calculated reset. A strategic silence. A quiet effort to cover tracks and distance themselves from their failure. And the lack of media coverage only proved one thing—someone wanted the truth buried.
Later that evening, Simon found his father sitting alone in the study, a warm drink in hand, his eyes distant.
Simon entered the room and sat across from him.
"They've left," he said simply. "The Crown families pulled out of Riverstone. All of it—gone. Back to Alpha creed."
Mathew gave a slow nod, but said nothing.
Simon leaned forward; his voice low. "I know they were behind what happened to the company. The collapse. The sabotage."
Mathew didn't respond, his face unreadable. But the silence was telling. He knew. And he didn't want to talk about it—not because he didn't trust Simon, but because he didn't want his son dragged deeper into the shadows of that world.
Simon sat back, thoughtful. Then reached into his jacket and placed a sleek black credit card on the table.
"Use it," he said. "The five hundred million—they gave it to me. Use it to rebuild. Restart the company. If anyone tries to stand in your way, tell them you've got me behind you."
Mathew's brow furrowed. "I can't use you like that."
"You're not," Simon replied firmly. "They gave me that money to silence me. But I'm choosing how it's used. Use it to build the future you've always dreamed of."
His father looked down at the card, torn.
Simon added, voice softer, "I hunt. That's what I do. But if the day ever comes that I need to stop… I want something real waiting for me."
Mathew looked at his son, eyes clouded with emotion. Then, slowly, he reached out and took the card.
"I'll accept," he said quietly. "But on one condition."
Simon arched a brow.
"This company… it'll bear your name. I'll run it, guide it—but if the day comes that you lay down the blade, it'll be yours."
Simon nodded. "Deal."
In that quiet room, more than a business was rebuilt—something lost had been reclaimed.
The company would rise again.
And this time, no one—not even the Crown family—would be able to tear it down.