Chapter 001
1694 Words
“Get your things and get the hell out of my house, you worthless blind bastard.”
The voice cut through the stillness of the basement like a whip.
Inside the sprawling villa of the **Hawthorne Family**, **Elena Hawthorne** stood at the entrance of the underground room, completely unclothed, her posture radiating arrogance and entitlement. She didn’t bother covering herself—she never did, not inside her own home. To her, modesty was for people beneath her.
The basement itself was dim, damp, and suffocating, with a faint smell of mildew that clung to the walls. It was less a living space and more a place where something—or someone—was meant to be forgotten.
On the cold tiled floor, **Jake Cole** knelt silently, one hand gripping a rag as he slowly wiped the surface clean. His movements were steady, methodical. His head remained lowered, as if he hadn’t heard her at all.
Or perhaps he simply chose not to respond.
Elena’s lips curled in irritation. Without warning, she stepped forward and kicked him hard in the side. The impact sent him sprawling across the wet floor, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud.
“Did you not hear me?” she snapped. “Or are you deaf on top of being blind?”
Jake struggled for a moment before pushing himself upright again. His movements were careful, almost mechanical. His eyes—lifeless and unfocused—stared into nothingness.
He had no idea that the woman standing before him possessed a figure that would make any Hollywood star jealous. To him, she was only a voice. A cruel one.
“I can leave,” Jake said quietly. “But I’m taking back what belongs to me.”
For a brief moment, the air froze.
Then Elena laughed.
“What belongs to you?” she repeated mockingly. “Your corneas? Or your shares in **Stellar Apex Group**?”
Her laughter sharpened, filled with contempt.
“You really do have quite the imagination for a blind man. Let me make this clear—nothing you think you own actually belongs to you anymore. The entire **Stellar Apex Group** belongs to the **Hawthorne Family** now.”
She leaned closer, her voice lowering into something colder.
“Even your life belongs to us. The fact that you’re still breathing? That’s already generosity.”
Jake’s fingers tightened around the rag until his knuckles turned pale. His jaw clenched. Rage flickered across his face, barely restrained.
Memories surged through him—uninvited, unstoppable.
More than a decade ago, **Vivian Hawthorne** had arrived in **Larkspur City** with her young daughter, Elena. Back then, they were nothing—destitute, desperate, and hunted by men who saw them as easy prey.
It had been Jake’s mother who saved them.
She had taken them in, given them shelter, dignity, and a chance to start over. She had personally arranged for Vivian to work at **Stellar Apex Group**, nurturing her potential, treating her not as an employee but as family.
Over time, Vivian rose through the ranks, eventually becoming Vice President. Trusted. Empowered.
Respected.
Jake’s parents had never imagined that kindness could be repaid with betrayal.
Two years ago, a car accident took their lives. Before dying, they entrusted everything—the company, their son—to Vivian. Jake was told to treat her as a godmother.
He had believed in her.
Completely.
But that trust became the blade that gutted him.
Vivian had methodically consolidated power within the company, isolating loyalists, replacing key figures, and gradually stripping Jake of his authority. His shares were diluted, manipulated, and eventually rendered meaningless.
And then came the final cruelty.
When Elena injured her eyes, Vivian had ordered Jake’s corneas to be removed and transplanted into her daughter.
No hesitation. No remorse.
From that moment on, Jake descended into darkness.
Literally.
He became blind. Powerless. Reduced to nothing more than a disposable asset. They kept him alive, locked in this basement, treating him like a caged animal—feeding him just enough to survive, only so they could continue humiliating him.
He had endured it for two years.
Two years of beatings. Two years of silence. Two years of swallowing rage that had nowhere to go.
“And what?” Elena sneered, stepping closer again. “You’re angry now? You want to hit me?”
She puffed out her chest deliberately, pressing forward, her tone provocative.
“Go on. Hit me. I dare you.”
Before he could respond, her hand lashed out, striking his face with a sharp c***k. The force snapped his head to the side, blood instantly rising to his lips.
Elena had trained in Taekwondo since childhood. She was now a fifth-degree black belt. Even if Jake still had his sight, he would stand no chance against her.
Over the past two years, he had become her personal punching bag.
Broken ribs. Bruised organs. Countless injuries that were never properly treated.
“Pathetic,” she spat. “You don’t even dare fight back. What’s the point of someone like you staying alive?”
Something inside Jake finally snapped.
The humiliation, the pain, the helplessness—it all erupted at once.
With a sudden roar, he swung his fist forward.
Elena froze.
For the first time, the man who never resisted… fought back.
Caught completely off guard, she failed to react in time. His fist struck her squarely in the chest.
Jake blinked in confusion.
The sensation was unexpected—soft, elastic, nothing like bone or muscle.
But the impact still hurt.
Elena’s expression twisted instantly.
“You’re dead!”
Her bare foot whipped through the air in a brutal side kick. It connected with Jake’s head like a hammer. Pain exploded through his skull as he was thrown to the ground, visionless darkness swallowing everything.
Before he could recover, her heel came down on his back, pinning him in place. She grabbed his arm and stomped down hard.
A sickening c***k echoed.
Jake screamed.
But Elena wasn’t finished.
She unleashed a storm of blows—kicks, punches, merciless strikes that battered his already broken body. Blood spread beneath him, soaking into the cold floor.
His breathing grew shallow. Weak.
Fading.
“Enough.”
A calm yet authoritative voice cut through the violence.
**Vivian Hawthorne** stepped into the basement.
She carried herself with an effortless elegance, her presence commanding without needing to raise her voice. Even compared to her daughter, her beauty held a deeper, more mature allure—refined, controlled, and dangerously captivating.
Though Elena had grown into a striking young woman, she still paled in comparison.
Vivian had given birth at fifteen. Now only thirty-four, she looked more like Elena’s older sister than her mother.
“Are you trying to kill him?” Vivian asked coolly.
Elena pouted, clinging to her arm. “Mom, what’s the point of keeping this useless trash alive? I can’t stand looking at him.”
“He cannot die,” Vivian replied flatly. “At least not yet. It would affect my reputation.”
Her tone left no room for argument.
“Fine…” Elena muttered reluctantly.
“Call **Dr. Carter** to treat him,” Vivian continued. “I have business to attend to.”
She turned and left without another glance.
The moment she was gone, the atmosphere shifted.
Elena’s expression darkened.
“My mother wants you alive,” she said slowly. “But I don’t.”
She grabbed Jake by the arm and dragged him across the floor like dead weight. His body left a long trail of blood behind him as she hauled him into the living room.
“Clean everything,” she ordered coldly to the maid, **Helen Ward**. “I don’t want a single trace of him left in this house.”
Helen hesitated. “Miss… Madam said he—”
“Do as I said,” Elena snapped. “If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility.”
There was no room for refusal.
Later that night, under the cover of heavy rain, Helen loaded Jake’s barely breathing body into the trunk of a car. The storm masked everything—the sound, the movement, the crime.
She drove to the riverbank outside **Larkspur City** and dumped him into the raging waters without looking back.
The river, swollen from the storm, surged violently.
But fate had other plans.
Instead of being swept away, Jake’s body was carried toward the shore, eventually washing up against the muddy bank.
Cold rain struck his face, jolting him back to consciousness.
Pain flooded his senses.
So did something else.
A desperate instinct to survive.
With trembling limbs, he crawled through the mud, inch by inch, until he reached the ruins of an abandoned temple nearby. The structure creaked under the assault of wind and rain, barely holding together.
Inside, he collapsed.
His strength was gone.
But his will remained.
“I won’t accept this…” he muttered hoarsely. “Why do the good suffer… while monsters thrive?”
His voice grew raw, filled with fury and despair.
“Are you blind too?” he shouted toward the heavens. “Is this what justice looks like?”
Thunder roared.
Lightning split the sky, striking a twisted tree outside and reducing it to charred fragments.
“Then strike me too!” Jake roared back. “If you have any power, kill me!”
But no answer came.
Only the storm.
His body finally gave out. Darkness closed in as he lost consciousness.
Moments later, a figure emerged from behind a crumbling statue.
An old man.
He stepped forward slowly, examining Jake’s battered form. His fingers hovered over the pulse at his neck.
Weak.
But present.
Then he lifted Jake’s eyelids.
And froze.
A strange light flickered in his gaze.
Then—
he burst into wild laughter.
“Heaven has not abandoned everything after all…”
His voice trembled with excitement.
“A natural-born **Dual Sight**… unimaginable… truly unimaginable!”
He looked at the unconscious Jake, eyes blazing with newfound purpose.
“Since fate has brought you to me… I will pass on everything I have.”
“A final gift before I leave this world.”
- Writer
