The Broken Crown

Chapter 2 – The Shadowed Heir

Elias Veyron stood on the edge of the roof, the wind pulling at his black cloak. He was thin but strong, with dark hair slicked back and stubble on his jaw. He had once stood among these men as the heir of one of New York's biggest fortunes. Now, he ruled them with only his wits and his hunger.

"Sit," Elias said, and his voice was as sharp as glass. Three men in suits did what they were told and gathered around a steel table under a sky full of stars.

Elias went on, "You know why we're here," and his eyes narrowed. "Your investments are losing money. Your rivals are keeping an eye on you. "They'll eat you alive if you make the wrong move."

One man moved around uncomfortably. "And what move do you think we should make?"

Elias's lips twisted up into a smile. "Give up your weak pawns. Hit them where they least expect it. "Money isn't loyalty; it's power."

Another one laughed and lit a smoke. "You sound like you're playing chess with empires."

Elias leaned closer and said, "I am." "And you're already losing."

The words hung there, heavy and cruel.

A competitor slapped his hand on the table, his eyes flaming. "Veyron, you play with fire."

Elias didn't move. He only turned his head so that the lights of the city shone in his eyes. "Fire grows as much as it burns." The question is, will you be the first to burn?

The man stopped talking, and smoke curled between them as the night closed in.

A security went forward and put a sleek black briefcase on the table. The locks made a metallic snap that could be heard in the wind. Under the lights on the roof, stacks of fresh bills and contracts shone.

"For your advice," one of the men said.

Elias looked at the case without blinking. "Keep half."

The clients looked at each other with caution. "Half?"

Elias said, "Yes." His tone was final. "I don't fail." When you see your foes fall, you'll pay the rest.

The other person said, "You sound sure."

Elias said, "I don't bet." His voice was gentle, but there was iron underneath. "I do math."

He closed the bag with care, making sure to touch the shiny steel with his gloved hand. The men were getting more and more tense as each waited for the other to speak first.

"You're crazy," one of them finally said.

Elias said, "No." "I'm good at getting things done."

The quiet was broken by a loud hum. Elias's phone vibrated on the table, and the screen's brightness made his face look pale. No number on the phone. Not able to be found.

He pushed it towards himself, and his face was unreadable.

"Who calls you at this hour?" one of the men enquired in a dubious tone.

Elias's lips moved, as if he were amused. "Someone who knows more than you."

The roof became blurry and was lost in memory. He couldn't stop thinking about the headlines: "Veyron Global Collapses Overnight." Scandal kills tycoon. His father's face, which was shamed and had empty eyes even in paper, was on the main page.

He remembered that night, when the mahogany study was only lit by fire. His mother, who was once beautiful in silk, crumpled up on the velvet sofa and cried into her hands.

"You promised us safety," she yelled, her voice hoarse. "You said you'd keep us safe."

His father stood there without saying a word, his shoulders sagging under the weight of disaster and his whisky glass shaking.

At that time, Elias was twenty years old, tall, but not yet strong. He remembered how ashamed he felt when family members murmured about betrayal and secrets. He remembered how the housekeeper turned away from him and couldn't look him in the eye.

He realised at that moment that power was not something you could pass on. He would make it himself, and it was a weapon.

Young Elias stood in the doorway and muttered, "Never again." "We will never be prey again."

His father looked at him with empty eyes and couldn't speak. His mother's cries resonated till they became part of Elias's bones.

The memories faded away, and the cold, stinging air on the roof came back.

Elias's voice was low and steady. "I'll burn them all."

The night took his word and swallowed it whole, yet his eyes shone with a promise that no fire could put out.

There were only Elias and one other man left on the roof. The other people had left, and their footsteps faded into the city's noise. The last person was Anton Carrow, a thin broker with grey hair and eyes that were always working out numbers. He lit another cigarette, and the ember glowed red against the gloom.

Anton remarked, "You did well tonight," and smoke came out of his mouth. "They will pay." You always make them pay.

Elias leaned back against the steel fence, which cast a shadow across half of his face. "Don't flatter me. You didn't remain behind to make me feel good.

Anton laughed. "No. I stayed because your next job came to me. A client with a lot of money who wants to be in charge.

Elias said, "Name," in a bland voice.

Anton looked at him for a long time, thinking about how much to say. "You might not like it."

"Go ahead and try me."

"The D'Amelio empire."

The word rang out like a bell, crisp and clear. Elias's jaw tightened. He didn't say anything for a moment; he just let the wind lash his coat against him.

“D’Amelio,” he said slowly, as if he were tasting poison. "Are you sure?"

Anton nodded and squinted. "Vivienne herself." She asks you to come in. They need a strategist to make sure the deal goes through. "You'd be the knife at their throat, whether they know it or not."

Elias's silence went on and on. The lights of the city shone in his eyes, chilly and scary.

Anton remarked gently, "You know their history with your family."

"I remember everything," Elias said. His hand curled around the railing, and his knuckles turned white. "If Vivienne thinks she can use me, she's already lost."

The name D'Amelio hung in the night like a curse, ringing across the roofs as if the city itself were watching.

Hours later, Elias was in his penthouse study, which had walls lined with shelves of books that had never been opened and windows that looked out over the metropolis that never slept. There was a subtle fragrance of leather and whisky in the air. He had his shirt undone at the collar and rolled up his sleeves, showing off the lean muscles of a man who got strong by losing weight.

He held a glass of amber spirits in his hand. He slowly swirled it around, watching the light from the bulb catch the liquid. His reflection shook in the crystal. His face was attractive, but it was disfigured by deep shadows from years of betrayal.

The phone was on the desk next to him. There was one message that stood out on the screen: Awaiting confirmation.

He raised the glass to his lips and enjoyed the sharp burn. He shouted out loud, "The D'Amelio empire," as if to break the silence.

He saw pictures in his head: his father's death, his mother's empty eyes, and the family name being dragged through the mud. Vivienne D'Amelio was at the centre of it all. She was elegant and ruthless, and she smiled as she watched Veyron Global fall apart.

Elias put the whisky down with a loud clink. He tapped the phone and spoke in a low, steady voice, promising more than answering. "I'll take it."

He reclined back in the leather chair, stretching out his long body, and let himself smile a little bit, but not enough to show in his eyes.

He murmured, "This time, I won't just live." I'll take everything they love.

The city outside his window was full of light, but his eyes were already set on the empire he would break into. The quest has started.