Volume 1: Fallen from Grace
Summary: Jack uses his knowledge of financial markets to secretly short Richard Greene's company stock, aiming to disrupt his operations and send a message.
Chapter 15: The First Counterstrike
Richard Greene's arrival was like a cold wind laced with ice shards, instantly shattering the artificial joy inside Golden Sands Entertainment. Even beneath the dim, flickering neon lights, Jack could clearly see the ruthless glint in Richard's eyes and the cruel smirk curling his lips. A group of well-dressed sycophants surrounded him, their faces twisted into exaggerated smiles—like flies swarming around rotting meat. And behind him walked Emily, pale and lifeless, like an exquisite but broken porcelain doll. Her face was ghostly pale, her eyes hollow and shadowed, as if every ounce of vitality had been drained from her.
A heavy weight settled in Jack's chest, fury surging through him like wildfire. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to suppress the rage before it consumed his reason. Not yet. Not now. He needed patience. This was a rare opportunity, and he had to use it wisely—get close to Emily, find a way in.
He took a deep breath, regaining control of his emotions and hiding them behind the youthful, unassuming face of Mike—the bartender. He resumed polishing glasses and arranging bottles with methodical precision, all while keeping a sharp eye on Richard's group.
Richard led his entourage to the farthest VIP booth in the club. Unlike the others, this one was partially concealed by thick velvet curtains, creating an atmosphere of secrecy and decadence. From his position at the bar, Jack could see Richard lounging comfortably on the couch, swirling a crystal glass filled with amber liquid, sipping expensive whiskey while whispering something to a few key figures beside him. Emily sat silently beside him, mute and motionless, like a forgotten ornament—detached from everything around her.
The minutes dragged on like hours. Each second felt endless, and Jack grew increasingly restless. He had to find a way to reach Emily, to pass her a message. But walking up to her directly would only raise suspicion and alert Richard. He needed the perfect excuse—a legitimate reason to approach her without drawing attention.
Suddenly, a woman in a revealing outfit and drenched in cheap perfume slinked up to the bar. Slurring her words, she said, "Hey there, handsome. Can I get an 'Angel's Kiss'? Make it sweet!"
Jack quickly adjusted his expression, offering a polite, professional smile. Behind his eyes, however, a plan began to form.
"Of course, ma'am. One moment, please."
With practiced efficiency, he poured milk, white crème de cacao, and a splash of cream into a shaker, gave it a quick shake, and poured it into a delicate glass. He topped it off with red candy sprinkles that resembled angel feathers. As he handed it over, a thought struck him.
He leaned forward slightly, still smiling. "Excuse me, ma'am, are your friends interested in drinks too? We're running a free drink promotion tonight—I can bring some over for you."
Still drunk and indifferent, the woman lazily pointed toward Richard's booth. "Sure, whatever. Those are big shots over there. Be nice and maybe they'll tip you."
Jack's heart leapt, though his expression remained calm. "Thank you very much, ma'am."
He prepared another "Angel's Kiss," carefully balancing the tray as he made his way toward the VIP section. He slowed his pace, appearing casual, while closely observing both Richard and Emily's reactions.
Richard was reclining on the couch, engaged in animated conversation with his associates, seemingly in a good mood. Emily, meanwhile, stared blankly at her glass, untouched and unmoving, lost in her own world.
As he approached the booth, Jack bowed slightly and spoke in a respectful, slightly nervous tone. "Sir, madam, this is a complimentary drink from our bar. We hope you enjoy it."
At the sound of his voice, Richard looked up sharply. His piercing gaze cut through the air like a blade, locking onto Jack with unnerving intensity. Instantly, Jack felt suffocated, as if an invisible force were choking the air out of him. He forced himself to remain composed, maintaining a tight, courteous smile.
"Please enjoy, sir." His voice trembled slightly, but he kept it under control.
Richard studied him for a moment, his hawk-like eyes scanning every detail, as if trying to peel away the mask and expose what lay beneath. Jack's heart pounded violently in his chest, but he held his ground, betraying nothing.
"You're new here?" Richard asked, his voice low and commanding, like a lion addressing a mouse.
"Yes, sir," Jack replied respectfully. "My name is Mike. I just started working here at Golden Sands. I hope I can serve you well."
Richard didn't respond immediately. He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Jack for several long seconds. Then, slowly, a knowing smile curled his lips—one that brimmed with amusement and danger.
"Very well, young man. Keep it up. You've got potential." He turned to Emily. "Emily, try this drink. It might cheer you up."
She lifted the glass with a mechanical gesture, taking a small sip. Her expression remained unchanged, her eyes empty—as if she no longer belonged to this world.
A sharp pain shot through Jack's chest. He fought the urge to pull her away, to save her from this nightmare. Instead, he bowed again. "If you enjoy it, I can prepare another one—or perhaps try a different flavor. We have many signature cocktails."
Emily nodded once, placing the glass back on the table without a word.
Back at the bar, Jack quickly prepared another "Angel's Kiss." Hidden within it was a tiny folded note, written in concise, clear handwriting:
I'm Jack. Don't be afraid. I'm here to help. If you trust me, meet me by the restroom door. Be careful not to be seen.
Once again, he approached the VIP booth and handed the drink to Emily. "Madam, please enjoy. Feel free to ask if you need anything else."
She accepted the glass, her eyes briefly flickering with recognition. She raised it to her lips, using it as a cover while slipping the note into her palm.
Jack knew—she had seen it! She had received his message!
He returned to the bar, pretending to work as usual, but his mind raced ahead, already waiting anxiously by the restroom door. Every second ticked by like an eternity. He kept checking his watch, stealing glances toward the VIP booth to monitor Richard's movements. He knew Richard would have someone watching Emily. Whether or not she could make it to the restroom unnoticed was still uncertain.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a familiar figure appeared near the restroom entrance.
It was Emily.
Dressed in her gray velvet evening gown, she looked even more fragile than ever. She glanced cautiously around, then slipped inside the restroom.
Jack's heartbeat quickened like a war drum. This is it, he realized. The first strike has begun! This wasn't just about revenge—it was about saving the girl swallowed by darkness.
He set down the glass in his hand, took a deep breath, and clenched his fist. The time had come. He had to act fast—make contact with Emily, extract crucial information, and begin unraveling Richard's web of deceit, piece by piece.
His path of vengeance had officially begun.