The Janitor's Requiem

The Stalker Returns

Thomas glanced at his image in the mirror, the weight of his newfound identity pushing hard on him. Gone was the guy who washed floors and emptied garbage cans for a livelihood. He was Thomas Blackthorne, heir to a history of unparalleled power and influence. The notion still seemed strange, like putting on a garment fashioned by someone else.

“I’ll do it,” he murmured at last, his voice calm but low. Eleanor sat close and offered a little nod of encouragement.

“You’ve made the right decision,” she remarked, her tone stern but compassionate. “Now, there’s much to discuss about the responsibilities you’re inheriting. Your family’s assets, companies, and properties span sectors and countries. Each one retains bits of your parents’ vision for the city. They are now yours to command.”

Thomas’s mind whirled, attempting to absorb the sheer weight of what she was saying. He had grown up with little, and now the whole world appeared to have been presented to him on a golden platter.

Eleanor said, “Your first visit will be to the Blackthorne Resort. It’s one of the crown jewels of the family enterprise, and also where you can begin discreetly studying the city's elite. You’ll pretend as a janitor—maintaining the position you’re acquainted with while keeping under the radar. Trust me, this will give you the perspective you need to expose the corruption your parents tried to eliminate.”

Thomas nodded, respecting her practicality. He wasn’t ready to emerge into the public limelight as the Blackthorne heir. Not yet.

The sun blazed down on the Blackthorne Resort, its spotless façade glittering like a diamond among the busy downtown. Thomas came out of the automobile Eleanor had provided, wearing his old work attire. It felt uncomfortable stepping into a property his family owned disguised as a janitor, but there was a reason to this deception.

As he entered the enormous lobby, the magnificence of the resort hit him. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen rivers, and immaculate marble floors sparkled under his feet. He felt like an invader in a universe that was purportedly his.

“Thomas?”

The voice froze him mid-step. Slowly, he turned, and there she was—Emily, his ex-wife. Dressed in a beautiful cocktail dress, her hair combed to perfection, she looked every bit the sophisticated socialite he had previously felt he could never deserve.

Beside her stood a guy he immediately knew from their wedding photos—Jeremy, her new husband. Jeremy’s fitted suit and arrogant manner further heightened the impression of superiority that clung to him like costly fragrance.

Emily’s attitude turned from amazement to scorn as she drew closer. “What are you doing here?”

Thomas kept his expression neutral, hesitant to give her the gratification of a response.

She laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Don’t tell me you’ve followed me here. Are you stalking me now?”

Jeremy laughed, the sound oozing contempt. “Of course, he’s stalking you. It’s not like he has anything better to do.”

“I’m not stalking anyone,” Thomas answered, his voice calm but forceful.

Emily crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. “Then what are you doing here, dressed like that? Let me guess—you’re coming to clean the floors again?”

Jeremy grinned, lounging nonchalantly against the reception counter. “Tell you what, Thomas. I can chat to the Vice Chairman of the resort. Maybe he’ll offer you a job cleaning the executive suites. You'll be doing something worthwhile for once.”

Thomas remained quiet, his eyes firm on Jeremy. The smug gratification on the man’s face was aggravating, but Thomas refused to give him the satisfaction of rising to the bait. Instead, he smiled. Knowing that the power to take out the Vice Chairman was in his hands.

Pulling out his phone, Thomas wrote a simple message to Eleanor. " Sack the Vice Chairman Immeditely".

Moments later, the receptionist’s phone buzzed. She responded immediately, her manner turning from professional to terrified. “Yes, sir. Right away.”

Thomas observed as the lady frantically entered something onto her computer. Within minutes, another staff member hurried in, talking frantically to her.

“What’s going on?” Jeremy inquired , his tone uncomfortable.

The receptionist paused before glancing up. “The Vice Chairman has been relieved of his duties effective immediately.”

“What?” Jeremy’s voice increased, his arrogant demeanor slipping.

Thomas eventually spoke, his tone calm but tinged with quiet power. “I guess your link has been cut off.”

Jeremy glanced to Emily, who appeared just as perplexed as he was. “This has to be a mistake,” he remarked, bringing out his phone. He started rapidly dialling numbers, but each call seemed to end in frustration.

“No one knows anything,” he mumbled beneath his breath, his confidence sinking more with each unsuccessful effort.

Thomas remained silent, turning on his heel and walking away. The embarrassment etched on Jeremy’s face was enough to alleviate the pain from their earlier comments, and that was all the satisfaction Thomas needed at that moment.

But Thomas wasn’t here for revenge—not yet. His purpose at the resort was not to flaunt himself as a legitimate successor but to observe. The walls of this edifice housed secrets, and he wanted to unearth every single one of them.

Eleanor received him in a separate office later that evening. “I take it the encounter was unpleasant,” she replied, her voice measured.

“It was illuminating,” Thomas said, slipping into the chair opposite her. “But I don’t understand. Why dismiss the Vice Chairman so suddenly?”

“Because he was a key player in the corruption your parents tried to stop,” Eleanor answered simply. “This is just the beginning, Thomas. The further you explore, the more you’ll uncover. But you must be cautious. The individuals you’re fighting against are deadly, and they won’t hesitate to react if they detect a threat.” their first action would be to understand who called for the dismissal of the Vice-Chairman.

Thomas leaned back, his thoughts whirling. He had plunged into a world he scarcely understood, packed with riches, power, and foes waiting in the shadows.

And yet, as overwhelming as it all appeared, there was a part of him that felt ready. For the first time in his life, he had the power to fight back—to preserve the city his parents had died for.

As he left the workplace, the weight of his new obligations rested on his shoulders. But behind that weight came a glimmer of purpose.

The game had started, and Thomas Blackthorne was no longer playing by anyone else’s rules.

Across the city, in a darkly lit office, a hooded figure hunched over a desk covered with paperwork and images. One of the photographs was of Thomas, standing in the foyer of the Blackthorne Resort.

“So,” the person muttered, their voice low and threatening. “The prodigal son has returned.”

The snapshot was set alight, the flames engulfing it as the person sat back in their chair, a nasty smirk curving their lips.

“Let the games begin.”