Chapter 4: They Had Each Other.
540 Words
Back then, those words were meant to comfort him—yet he knew his grandfather, Old Master Smith, spoke them for both of them. The old man had lost his son and daughter-in-law. Michael had lost his parents. They were all each other had left.
Back then, Michael swore he would protect his grandfather from every disturbance, every danger, every shadow. That vow shaped his entire life.
And now, sitting on the bathroom floor, shivering from pain and confusion, he remembered the punishment he delivered to the people who killed his parents—the Sloan Family.
The second-largest shareholder of S&M Corporation—the old master from the Sloan Family—had wanted to take over the company. Greed twisted his heart, and he schemed, planned, and orchestrated the accident that killed Michael’s parents.
Michael had taken revenge.
He remembered how he destroyed the Sloan Family… crushed them completely… and buried them in ruin to accompany his lonely parents in the underworld.
His reflection stared back at him from the mirror—pale, shaken, but filled with a familiar darkness.
If I find the one who masterminded everything, he swore silently, I will rip him apart. They will regret ever touching my family.
As the water washed over him, his thoughts drifted to the rituals his parents warned him about. The ugly ways people used to gain money—sacrifices, curses, rituals, blood.
Uneasiness crawled up his spine.
Anger simmered.
Last night he was excited—he had secured a deal worth millions, increased his power, and strengthened his position. But that same excitement had thrown him straight into a nightmare.
“If only I had been more careful… or satisfied with what I already had,” he thought bitterly.
But there was no room for regret.
He had opened the door to evil. He had invited trouble.
And now he would face the consequences.
But one thing remained true:
He was the richest man in M Nation.
In life, you gain a hand and lose another—but every problem has a solution.
He would find his.
After he finished washing and dressing, he stepped out of the bathroom into the suite. That’s when he noticed the remnants of ritualistic chaos—burnt red candles scattered across the floor, strange black powder, scalpels, sticks, and items he couldn't even name.
He crouched down, collecting everything into one place. He reached for a plastic bag to store the items for investigation when—
Knock. Knock.
He froze.
As he moved toward the door, something else caught his eye—a trail of blood. Pieces of a sheet soaked in crimson were lying near the entrance. He inhaled sharply but didn’t panic.
Not anymore.
All the clues in the room were beginning to align in his mind.
He opened the door.
Standing there were his secretary, Henry, and his shadow guard, Willis. Both men looked exhausted—faces pale, eyes red from worry. When they saw him alive and standing on his own two feet, they both exhaled in relief.
Shadow One—Willis—couldn’t hold back. Tears filled his eyes.
“Boss… we’ve been searching everywhere for you,” he cried. “Where did you go last night?”
- Writer
