Prologue: The Accident
The storm was fierce that night. The rain lashed against the car’s windshield, relentless and heavy, as the wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour. Inside the car, Richard Demonteverde sat in tense silence, his mind a whirlwind of calculations and strategies. But tonight, his thoughts were not on business deals or the latest tech innovations. Tonight, Richard was consumed by the weight of everything he had built—the billion-dollar empire, the reputation he had spent years cultivating, the power he wielded with such precision. He had fought for every inch, clawed his way to the top, and now, more than ever, he knew that even the slightest misstep could unravel it all.
It was past midnight, and the streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional stray vehicle. Benjie, his loyal assistant, kept his focus on the slick road, navigating with care. Richard barely noticed the silence in the air. His thoughts were on the fragility of his empire. His father had built this business, but it was Richard who had taken it to new heights—only to discover that the higher he climbed, the more precarious everything became. A single scandal, a single mistake, could destroy everything.
"Benjie," Richard’s voice broke the quiet, though it was laced with uncertainty, a rare crack in his otherwise controlled demeanor. Benjie glanced at him but said nothing, sensing the underlying tension.
Then, it happened. A flash of headlights blinding Benjie, a car swerving into their lane with terrifying speed.
"Benjie!" Richard barked, but it was too late.
The impact was sudden and violent. The world around Richard lurched forward, his body jerked in his seat, his seatbelt the only thing preventing him from crashing into the dashboard. The sound of metal crunching, the screech of tires, and the deafening roar of the rain all merged into chaos. Then, silence.
Benjie slammed the car into park, his hands shaking on the wheel. Richard stayed calm, detached, as his eyes scanned the wreckage. The other car had been spun off the road, its front end crushed, the driver’s side door mangled beyond recognition.
"Richard... what do we do?" Benjie’s voice trembled, but Richard didn’t flinch.
He knew exactly what needed to be done.
Richard opened the door, stepping out into the torrential rain, his mind already working at full speed. This wasn’t just an accident; this was an obstacle—one that threatened to destroy everything he had worked so hard to build. The Demonteverde name, his reputation, his empire—all of it was fragile. One public scandal, one whisper about an involvement in a fatal accident, and everything could come crashing down. His father’s legacy, already tarnished by mistakes in the past, was on the line, and Richard couldn’t afford to let anything, or anyone, threaten it now.
He reached for his phone, dialing quickly. “Call the others,” he said, his voice sharp and cold. “Get them here now.”
Benjie, still in shock, complied, dialing Richard’s trusted men—the ones who could handle things quickly and quietly, with no questions asked.
Richard walked toward the wrecked car, his gaze cold, calculating. The driver and passenger were both motionless, a brutal sight, but Richard didn’t hesitate. There would be no investigation, no inquiry. He had to make sure the authorities never traced this back to him. He couldn’t afford the fallout, not when everything was so close to falling apart.
By the time Richard’s men arrived, the scene was already under control. The wreckage had been cleared, the bodies removed with surgical precision. No one would know the truth. No one would ever learn that Richard Demonteverde had been involved in a fatal accident. It would be written off as another storm-related tragedy, a senseless loss of life that could happen to anyone.
Richard climbed back into the car, his expression unreadable, his mind already moving on. His men had handled the details, the cleanup, the cover-up. To the outside world, it was as if nothing had happened. The storm had claimed another victim, and Richard’s name would never be linked to it.
The news reports the next day were quiet. The accident was mentioned briefly, but no one connected it to Richard Demonteverde. The storm had taken its toll, but it had claimed no prominent figures, no one whose name mattered. The story faded as quickly as it had appeared.
And Richard? He pushed the memory to the back of his mind, buried it deep. He couldn’t afford to dwell on it—not when the stakes were so high. His empire was everything, and nothing, not even a tragedy like this, could be allowed to derail him.
He would continue, as always, moving forward—controlled, unflinching, and unbreakable. The past, the lives lost, the guilt—it was buried beneath layers of power and control.
Nothing would touch him. Nothing ever would.
