Reborn as the Forgotten Heir

Setting the Trap

Chapter 3: Setting the Trap

Arthur’s eyes narrowed into slits as he stared down at Ethan. "What absurd nonsense are you talking about? A empire cracking? The Vance Group is stronger than it has ever been!" Ethan swirled the water in his glass, watching the ice cubes clink against the crystal side. He finally looked up, meeting Arthur’s glare with a deadpan stare that made the older man uneasy.

"Is it?" Ethan asked softly. "You just put a forty-million-dollar acquisition in the hands of a boy who can’t read a basic tax ledger without sweating through his collar. Tell me, Arthur, did Julian even bother to check Aether Systems’ holding accounts in Singapore, or did he just glance at the summary page and sign where you pointed?"

Arthur’s jaw tightened. "Julian is the future of the company! He has a degree from London, and unlike you, he understands loyalty! You think coming here dressed in a cheap suit makes you look like a big shot? You're a college dropout living off my charity."

"You keep calling it charity," Ethan said, his voice dropping into a quiet, icy register. "My mother gave you the seed capital to launch the Vance Group twenty years ago. When she died, her thirty percent equity vanished into your private holdings. That wasn't charity, Arthur. That was theft."

"Watch your tongue!" Arthur hissed, taking a sharp step forward, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his cane. "Your mother was weak, just like you. She didn't have the stomach for business. If I hadn't taken control of those shares, the company would have gone bankrupt!"

"Then consider this my formal notice," Ethan said, setting his glass down on the polished marble counter with a small, sharp clack. "I want those shares back."

Arthur stared at him for a second, then let out a harsh, mocking laugh that drew the attention of a few nearby diners.

"You want thirty percent of the Vance Group?" Arthur leaned in, his voice dripping with condescension. "You don't have a lawyer. You don't have money. You don't even have a place at the board table. You're nothing, Ethan. If you walk out of here today, I will make sure you never get a job in this city. You will beg on the streets before I give you a single cent."

"I won't need to beg," Ethan replied calmly, standing up. He towered slightly over his father, his posture imposing and completely unbothered by the threat. "Keep the shares for now. Consider them a temporary loan. Because when I come to collect them, I won't just take thirty percent. I’m taking the whole company."

Without waiting for Arthur to reply, Ethan walked past him, his shoes clicking evenly against the floor.

Arthur turned, his face flushed red with anger, watching his son's back disappear toward the elevators. For the first time in his life, he felt a strange prickle of fear behind his neck. The boy wasn't throwing a tantrum. He wasn't crying or pleading for approval. He was declaring war.

By 4:00 PM, Ethan was back in the lower financial district, sitting inside a quiet, high-end cafe equipped with secure Wi-Fi. He opened his laptop and pulled up his trading portal. His balance stood at $124,500. It was a solid start, but nowhere near enough to throw a wrench into a multibillion-dollar corporation. He needed leverage, momentum, and an army of people who owed him favors.

He knew exactly where to find his first ally.

Ethan opened an encrypted messaging service and typed in a private IP address he had memorized from his past life.

[Ethan]: Are you still trying to trace the illegal short-sellers on Horizon Tech, Mr. Vance?

Three seconds passed. Then five. Suddenly, the screen flickered, and a response popped up instantly.

[User_772]: Who is this? How did you get this connection?

Ethan smiled faintly. The person on the other end was Marcus Vance—Arthur’s estranged younger brother. Marcus was the black sheep of the Vance family. Five years ago, Marcus had served as the Chief Financial Officer of Vance Group until Arthur framed him for a massive embezzlement scheme to consolidate power. Marcus had been ousted, his reputation ruined, and he was currently living like a hermit in a downtown loft, obsessively tracking Arthur's illegal financial movements to prove his innocence. In his previous life, Marcus had died of a heart attack two years from now, broke and forgotten, before he could clear his name.

[Ethan]: It doesn't matter who I am right now. What matters is that your brother is about to close the Aether Systems deal on Friday.

[User_772]: Aether Systems is a ghost shell. Arthur is buying it to launder sixty million in offshore debt. I already know that, but I don't have the paper trail to prove it.

[Ethan]: You don't have the paper trail because Arthur didn't hide it in the core records. Check the subsidiary logistics firm in Cayman called 'BlueWave Maritime'. The cross-border transactions are hidden under equipment leasing.

There was a long pause on the chat log. For nearly two minutes, no messages came through. Ethan casually took a sip of his coffee, knowing Marcus was currently running the forensic search algorithms he had spent years perfecting.

Finally, the chat window lit up with rapid text.

[User_772]: Holy hell... It's all here. Three hundred shell accounts linked directly to Arthur's personal trust. How do you know this?! Who sent you?!

[Ethan]: Someone who wants to see Arthur lose everything just as much as you do. Meet me at the Blackwood Diner on 4th Street in one hour. Come alone.

Ethan closed the laptop lid and drained his coffee cup. He didn't just need capital; he needed Marcus's brilliant financial mind and deep knowledge of the family's internal structure. Combined with Ethan's foresight of the next five years, they were going to build an untouchable financial monster.

An hour later, Ethan sat in a corner booth at the dimly lit Blackwood Diner. Rain had begun to hit the windows again, blurring the streetlights outside into streaky yellow dots.

The door chimes chimed, and a man in a rumpled trench coat stepped inside. He had disheveled dark hair, hollow eyes, and a sharp, unkempt beard. He looked around nervously before his eyes locked onto Ethan.

Marcus hesitated, looking at Ethan's young face with confusion. He walked over to the booth, his hands jammed deep into his coat pockets.

"You're the one who sent those messages?" Marcus asked, his voice rough and quiet. "You look like a kid."

"Sit down, Uncle Marcus," Ethan said softly.

Marcus froze, his eyes widening in shock. "Ethan...? Is that you?" He looked Ethan up and down, processing the expensive suit, the cold composure, and the sharp intensity in his nephew's eyes. "What the hell is going on? Your father told everyone you were at university studying basic management."

"Arthur lies about a lot of things," Ethan said, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. "He lied about you stealing from the company, he lied about my mother's shares, and he's lying to the board about Aether Systems."

Marcus swallowed hard, taking a seat opposite Ethan. "If you know about BlueWave Maritime, you know enough to put Arthur in prison for twenty years. Why haven't you gone to the federal regulators?"

"Because prison is too easy for him," Ethan said, his voice entirely devoid of warmth. "If he goes to prison now, the company goes into bankruptcy, the board sells off the assets, and Julian gets off clean with the offshore money. I don't want Arthur in a cell, Marcus. I want him ruined. I want him to watch his empire crumble, piece by piece, until he has nothing left."

Marcus stared at his nephew, a shiver running down his spine. He had expected a frightened kid looking for help; instead, he was sitting across from a mastermind with eyes like chipped ice.

"What do you want me to do?" Marcus asked quietly.

Ethan pulled a crisp, white envelope from his inner jacket pocket and slid it across the table. Inside was a cashier's check for one hundred thousand dollars—nearly all the money Ethan had made from his morning trade.

"This is our starting capital," Ethan said. "Tomorrow morning, you are going to open a private hedge fund under the name 'Nemesis Capital'. And then, we are going to short the Vance Group into the dirt."