Chapter 9
1257 Words
Chapter 9
ALEX
Three days of a lot of intensive and grueling preparation had done nothing but transform me in ways I hadn't thought possible.
As I stood before the full-length mirror in my suite, taking care to adjust the expensive tailored suit that had been delivered that morning from one of the elite business suites for the wealthy, I barely recognized myself in the mirror and that was before the identity manipulation even began.
The physical protocol had worked better than I'd dared hope. My reflection showed a man who looked like he'd been working out for months rather than days.
My shoulders were broader, my posture straighter, and there was a confidence in my stance that hadn't been there before.
During my morning run—all ten miles of it without breaking a sweat—I'd accidentally punched the gymnasium wall in frustration over another dead end regarding Damien's background in anger.
The impact had left a lot of cracks in the concrete while my knuckles remained completely unharmed, not even a single bruise or hurt could be felt.
"The physical enhancements are progressing remarkably well, Young Master," Jensen had observed that morning, watching me lift weights that would have been impossible for me a week ago.
"Though I must say, your inquiries about Mr. Carter seems to be causing you a lot of stress."
That was putting it mildly. Every question I asked the system about Damien hit the same immovable wall and it wasn't budging no matter what I tried.
"System," I'd said during one of my runs, "Damien Carter's salary, employment history, anything financial?"
[Information Access Denied - Subject Protected by Advanced Privacy Protocols]
"His education background? Where he went to school?"
[Information Access Denied - Subject Protected by Advanced Privacy Protocols]
"Does he have any enhanced abilities like mine?"
[Information Access Denied - Subject Protected by Advanced Privacy Protocols]
The consistent blocking was driving me crazy. Either Damien was incredibly thorough about protecting his privacy, or someone with serious resources that seemed to be far greater than the system that I acquired- was doing it for him.
Neither possibility made me feel better about the intimate video Gerald had shown me.
My contemplation was interrupted by Jensen entering with his usual respectful knock and waiting for permission.
"Young Master, there's something you need to see," he said, carrying a tablet that had become his constant companion, or one that was becoming to be in the span of one week that I had known him.
"Your activities over the past three days have... attracted attention." He said sounding a bit mysterious and unclear about what he meant.
I took the tablet and found myself looking at a stock market analysis that made my eyes widen.
Yggdrasil Group subsidiaries were showing unusual trading patterns, with several stocks going through a lot of significant jumps in value.
"What exactly did I do?" I asked, though I suspected I knew the answer.
"The legal documents you signed to establish your identity, the financial transfers we initiated to secure your position—these actions left digital footprints that can be traced by anyone with enough brain sense in the dark web can find," Jensen explained. "Anyone monitoring Yggdrasil Group assets would have noticed the activity."
I scrolled through the analysis, seeing company names I was only beginning to recognize as part of my supposed inheritance.
Energy companies, tech firms, real estate holdings, and financial institutions across multiple continents. The scope was staggering.
"So everyone who's been searching for the Yggdrasil heir now knows something's happening," I said.
"Precisely. And many of those individuals will likely be at tonight's party," Jensen confirmed. "Mrs. Snow's guest list includes several people who have been... particularly interested in the Yggdrasil fortune over the years."
The system chimed in my head:
[Strategic Assessment: Current situation presents both opportunity and risk. Multiple hostile parties will be concentrated in single location, but host will have direct observation access.]
"Perfect," I muttered. "A room full of people who want me dead, and I'm walking right into it."
But it was also exactly what I needed, despite the unconventional way that I was going to get it.
If these people were going to show their hands and pick their sides of the silent war going on, tonight would be the night.
And in the chaos of competing interests, maybe I'd finally get some clear answers about Damien Carter's true loyalties and where it lied.
Two hours later, I stood in the center of my suite as the identity manipulation protocol was initiated. The transformation was unlike anything I could have imagined. It started as a tingling sensation across my skin, then intensified into what felt like every cell in my body shifting and rearranging itself.
I watched in the mirror as my face changed—cheekbones shifting, jawline altering, even my hair color darkening from brown to black with silver hairs at the temples. My height increased by two inches, my build became slightly more robust, and my posture adjusted to match Marcus Holloway's.
The mental integration was even more disorienting than the physical change as I was immediately bombarded with a lot of things. Suddenly I had access to memories that weren't mine—business deals Holloway had negotiated and signed, people he'd met, preferences for whiskey brands I'd never heard of. I knew he preferred his steak medium-rare, had a habit of adjusting his cufflinks when nervous, and spoke with a British accent that now felt natural rolling off my tongue.
[Identity Integration Complete. Duration: Approximately 2.5 hours based on current conditioning level. Recommend monitoring energy levels throughout mission.]
I practiced speaking in Holloway's voice, adjusting to the accent and speech patterns he was used to.
"Quite right, old chap. The market trends are rather promising this quarter."
Perfect. Even I was convinced.
Jensen knocked and entered, doing a double-take when he saw my transformed appearance. "Remarkable," he breathed. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were actually Marcus Holloway."
"That's rather the point," I replied, the British accent flowing naturally. "Shall we proceed?"
The drive to the Snow family estate took forty minutes through increasingly upscale neighborhoods. Jensen—now playing the role of Holloway's driver—briefed me on the final details.
"Remember, you're attending as a potential investor interested in the merger," he said. "Your cover story is that you've been traveling in Asia for the past month, which explains any gaps in recent social media activity. The real Holloway won't be contactable for another week, so discovery risk is minimal."
"And the extraction plan?"
Jensen tapped his watch, which matched the one on my wrist. "Two hours maximum. If you need emergency pickup, triple-tap your watch. I'll be monitoring from the car."
As we approached the estate, my enhanced eyesight picked out details that would have been invisible to normal vision. Security cameras, strategically positioned guards, and what looked like electronic surveillance equipment hidden in the landscaping. The Snow family was taking no chances with their guests' safety—or perhaps ensuring no one could leave without their knowledge.
The main entrance was blazing with lights and crowded with media. Photographers and reporters lined both sides of the red carpet leading to the mansion's front door, their cameras flashing constantly as guests arrived in expensive cars.
"Ready, Young Master?" Jensen asked as we pulled up to the valet station.
I took a deep breath, centering myself in Marcus Holloway's identity. "Absolutely. Time to crash my own wife's party."
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