Chapter 8 – The Moment Everything Collapses
1570 Words
Night draped over Europe like a suffocating veil.
What should have been an ordinary drive back to the London estate became a scene of devastation—fire trucks, police cars, ambulances, and a twisted wreck of the armored Wilson SUV lying like a dead animal on its side.
Rain fell in sharp, cold sheets.
The paramedics moved in hurried fear, as if they knew this wasn’t just a crash—this was the kind of event that would shake an empire.
Leonardo Wilson had always been larger than life.
He was the man people whispered about in boardrooms, the ghost who controlled half of Europe’s wealth, the lion who never bowed.
But tonight…
He looked small.
Fragile.
Crushed against the stretcher, unconscious, blood soaking into the white bandages around his head.
A paramedic tried to stabilize him while shouting:
“We’re losing him—
BP dropping—
Get me that compress—
NOW!”
Another medic, younger, trembling, rifled through Leonardo’s torn coat to find identification or medical information.
He found something else.
A small silver locket.
“It’s a baby,” he whispered, opening it with shaking fingers.
“A little girl… she must be—”
A snapping twig behind him made him spin around.
A man stepped out of the shadows.
Tall.
Calm.
Unmoving.
Dressed in black from head to toe.
Rain didn’t seem to touch him.
The paramedic froze.
“H-How long have you been—?”
The stranger said nothing. He simply held out his hand.
“The locket,” he said softly.
The paramedic stepped back.
“S-Sir, this belongs to—”
The man tilted his head.
“Give. It. To me.”
The paramedic hesitated only a second.
Then the man’s calm smile vanished—replaced by a coldness that felt like death brushing the skin.
The paramedic swallowed hard and placed the locket into his palm.
The man turned it over once, opened it, stared at the baby’s face as if memorizing every detail… and then crushed the delicate silver between his fingers without effort.
Metal cracked.
The picture inside folded and tore.
Before the paramedic could gasp, the stranger whispered:
“She won’t need this anymore.”
And he disappeared into the darkness.
The paramedic stood frozen with terror.
Because the man who stole the locket…
Was Lucian Thorne Wilson.
The underground command center of the Wilson empire had never known panic.
Until tonight.
The moment Leonardo’s coma status flashed across the internal network, the fortress erupted:
Alarms blared
Emergency teams scrambled
Executives shouted orders
Security chiefs argued over protocols
Analysts tried tracing Leonardo’s missing personnel
Lawyers demanded answers
The European financial board was placed on silent lockdown
Screens flashed:
CRITICAL:
LEONARDO WILSON — MEDICALLY INDUCED COMA
STATUS: UNRESPONSIVE
CAUSE: SUSPICIOUS ACCIDENT
Executives exchanged looks of dread.
Half of Europe moved at Leonardo’s command.
Without him—
Chaos wasn’t just possible.
It was inevitable.
At the back of the room, a lawyer burst through the doors.
She held a sealed black envelope.
Everyone stared.
“W-What is that?” someone whispered.
The lawyer’s voice shook.
“Mr. Wilson’s final directive.”
Gasps echoed.
“That’s—”
“Impossible—”
“He filed something today? During the gala?”
“I thought he rejected all further legal work—”
Hands trembling, the lawyer opened the sealed packet.
Papers slid out.
Thick. Heavy. Stamped.
Her face paled.
“Oh my god…”
“What does it say?”
She read aloud.
It felt unreal, like reading a prophecy:
“In the event of my incapacitation,
I, Leonardo Wilson, declare
Kendrick Lee Peterson
as the Acting CEO of the entirety of the Wilson Empire
until my return.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Then—
“P-Peterson?”
“THE Kendrick Peterson?”
“The world’s coldest businessman?”
“But he refused the marriage proposal!”
“Why HIM?”
“What is Leonardo thinking?”
“Does Peterson know?”
No.
He didn’t.
And when he found out…
Europe would feel the impact.
In a bunker hidden beneath an abandoned textile warehouse, Lucian stared at the crushed locket.
The baby’s torn picture.
Her soft hazel eyes peeking through the bent metal.
A tiny smile.
Lucian traced a finger over the ruined image.
He whispered:
“You had everything I wanted.”
His voice cracked—not with sadness.
With bitterness.
With venom.
With envy so deep it was poisonous.
“You were born Wilson,” he hissed.
“And I was born dirt.”
He flicked the picture into the flames.
His subordinate at the door swallowed.
“S-Sir… the Wilson empire announced the activation of the Emergency Directive.”
Lucian didn’t turn.
“I know.”
“They named Kendall Peterson.”
Lucian’s eyes twitched.
“Of course they did.”
He walked to a table cluttered with files, documents, and photographs of Seina—pictures of her from university, her friends, her routine.
One photograph showed her laughing brightly, hair tied in a messy bun, shoulders relaxed.
Lucian picked that one up.
“You smile too easily,” he whispered.
“You live too softly.”
He tore the photo in half.
“She should have suffered years ago.”
The subordinate flinched.
Lucian snapped:
“ELIMINATE her digital footprint.”
“Y-Yes, sir.”
“Delete everything.
Every record.
Every trace.
Every shadow.”
“What about her belongings?”
Lucian grinned.
“Burn them.”
“And what if Peterson comes looking?”
Lucian’s smile widened.
“He will find ash.”
He leaned back, hands clasped.
“And nothing more.”
“But sir…” the subordinate whispered.
“…Kendrick Peterson is not like other men.”
Lucian’s voice dropped to a chilling whisper.
“Neither am I.”
He walked to the wall separating him from Seina’s cell—where she lay weak, fevered, barely conscious.
He rested a hand on the cold barrier.
“She will stay here,” he whispered.
“Until she breaks.
And then…”
His lips curled.
“…I will decide what remains of her.”
Kendrick’s penthouse office was silent when the emergency call came through.
Sam handed him the phone.
“A lawyer from the Wilson empire. Says it’s urgent.”
Kendrick answered with a tone that could cut steel.
“Speak.”
“Mr. Peterson,” the lawyer stammered,
“Leonardo Wilson… has been critically injured. He’s stable but unresponsive.”
Kendrick did not move.
Did not breathe.
“And why,” he asked slowly,
“are you calling me?”
The lawyer inhaled shakily.
“You’re the Acting CEO of the Wilson empire.”
The words hit the room like a detonated bomb.
Sam’s head snapped toward Kendrick.
Kendrick stood still as a statue.
“…Repeat that,” he said softly.
“You’ve been appointed Acting CEO.”
Kendrick’s voice dropped lower.
“I rejected his proposal.”
“Yes. But he filed the directive before you left the gala suite.”
Kendrick’s eyes narrowed—slowly, dangerously.
“Why would he do that?”
“We don’t know, sir. But he must have had a reason.”
Kendrick’s fingers twitched against the desk.
“What about his family?”
Silence.
“We… found no records of any living relatives.”
Kendrick’s brows furrowed.
“That’s impossible.”
“We thought the same.”
Something shifted inside Kendrick.
A faint tug.
A whisper that something important was missing—something that should have been obvious but wasn’t.
Sam watched him carefully.
“Kendrick,” he said slowly,
“what’s wrong?”
Kendrick looked out the window at the dark Manhattan skyline.
His voice was low.
“…Someone important is missing.”
Sam blinked.
“Who?”
Kendrick closed his eyes for a second.
“I don’t know.”
Across an ocean…
In a dim underground cell…
Seina’s breaths turned shallow.
Her vision blurred.
Her chest tightened.
She whispered into the darkness:
“Please…
someone…
help me…”
Her voice barely audible.
Barely human.
Barely alive.
And across the world, Kendrick suddenly drew in a sharp breath—
a jolt shooting through him like he had been struck with lightning.
Sam jumped.
“Kendrick? What happened?”
Kendrick’s hands clenched.
“I… don’t know.”
Something was calling him.
Not a voice.
Not a memory.
A pull.
Pure.
Violent.
Instinctive.
As if a stranger’s agony had reached into his chest and gripped his heart.
Sam stepped closer.
“Tell me what you feel.”
Kendrick whispered:
“…Someone needs help.”
Sam stared.
This wasn’t the Kendrick Peterson the world knew—
the cold, unshakable, emotionless king.
This was something else.
Something deeper.
Something scarier.
Something unstoppable.
Kendrick straightened.
“Prepare the jet.”
Sam blinked.
“Where are we going?”
Kendrick didn’t hesitate.
“Europe.”
“But you just returned—”
Kendrick’s voice dropped to ice.
“Sam.”
Sam closed his mouth instantly.
Kendrick stared into the distance—eyes darker than a storm.
“I don’t know who…
or why…
or what the hell is happening.”
His jaw tightened.
“But I’m going.”
Lucian watches Seina collapse.
Seina whispers into the darkness.
Leonardo lies in a coma.
Kendrick boards the jet, unknowingly flying toward his destiny.
And somewhere in the shadows, a storm begins to form—
one that will change all three of their lives forever.
- Writer
