Rise To Ascension: The Poor Zillionaire

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

ALEX

I stared at the ceiling of my temporary safe house bedroom, watching the shadows shift as dawn began to break. I hadn't slept at all. How could I, when my mind kept replaying the same scene over and over?

Damien throwing himself in front of me. The impact of the bullet. The way he'd barely flinched before returning fire with deadly precision.

"System," I subvocalized into the darkness, "show me the replay again. Focus on Damien's shoulder wound."

The footage materialized in my enhanced vision, crystal clear despite having been captured in the chaos of the firefight. I watched frame by frame as the bullet tore through Damien's shoulder, the spray of blood, the way his body absorbed the impact.

And then—nothing. No hesitation, no favoring of the wounded arm, no signs of pain beyond that initial moment of impact. He'd continued moving, shooting, protecting me as if he hadn't just taken a bullet meant for my borrowed face.

[Analysis Complete: Subject exhibited accelerated clotting response and maintained full range of motion despite tissue damage. Estimated recovery time based on observed physiology: 6-8 hours for complete tissue regeneration.]

"That's impossible," I whispered to the empty room.

[Correction: Impossible for baseline human physiology. However, similar capabilities have been observed in your own enhanced biology following system integration.]

I sat up in bed, my heart pounding.

"Are you saying Damien has abilities like mine?"

[Insufficient data for conclusive determination. However, observed capabilities suggest genetic or acquired enhancement beyond normal human parameters. Recommend further investigation.]

Further investigation. Right. Because my life wasn't complicated enough already.

I dragged myself out of bed and walked to the window, looking out over the city as it began to wake. Somewhere out there, Damien Carter was probably already up and working, his shoulder completely healed, continuing whatever game he was playing with my wife while simultaneously trying to find me.

And I'd been there. Right in front of him. I'd even let him save my life—again—and I hadn't been able to say a single word of thanks because I'd been wearing another man's face.

The guilt gnawed at me like a living thing. Damien had been shot because of me, because I'd been reckless enough to attend that party as Marcus Holloway despite apparently having been warned—repeatedly, according to Damien's angry tirade—to stay away from Snow family events.

I wanted to call him. To apologize, to thank him, to demand answers about what the hell he was and why he kept saving my life while simultaneously holding my wife in a way that suggested he was sleeping with her.

But I couldn't. Because how would I explain knowing he'd been shot when I hadn't been there? How would Alex Snow know what had happened to Marcus Holloway at a party Alex Snow had supposedly been too kidn*pped to attend?

"This is insane," I muttered, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. "I'm going insane."

[Psychological assessment indicates elevated stress levels but no signs of psychosis or dissociative disorder. You are experiencing normal emotional responses to an abnormal situation.]

"Normal," I laughed bitterly. "There's nothing normal about any of this."

My phone buzzed, cutting through my spiral of self-recrimination. Jensen's name flashed on the screen.

"Talk to me," I answered, grateful for the distraction.

"We have a problem," Jensen's voice was tight with urgency. "Marcus Holloway's private jet just filed a flight plan. He's returning from Tokyo today, landing at 2 PM at the private airfield."

The bottom dropped out of my stomach. "Today? But I was just—"

"I know," Jensen cut me off. "Which means someone's going to notice that Marcus Holloway was at the Snow estate last night while the real Marcus Holloway was supposedly in Tokyo. We need to intercept him before anyone makes that connection."

I was already moving, grabbing clothes and pulling them on with shaking hands. "How long do we have?"

"Six hours until landing. I've already got a team assembling. We'll need to grab him as soon as he clears customs, sanitize all evidence of his arrival, and get him somewhere secure before anyone realizes he's back."

"And then what?" I demanded, shoving my feet into shoes. "We kidnap him? Hold him hostage? This is Marcus Holloway we're talking about—he's got security, connections, resources. He's not just going to disappear without people asking questions."

"Which is why we need to bring him in on this," Jensen said calmly. "Fill him in on what's happening, explain why someone tried to kill you last night thinking it's him, and convince him to play along with our plan."

I stopped moving. "Our plan? What plan?"

"The plan where we finally bring you home, Alex."

Something twisted in my chest at those words. Home. Except the penthouse I'd shared with Lily had never really been home, had it? Just an expensive cage I'd been too blind to recognize.

"Jensen—"

"Listen to me," he interrupted, his voice taking on that commanding tone that had probably terrified junior officers back in his military days. "Your wife still has people searching for you. Damien Carter is tearing the city apart looking for you. Gerald Whitmore is circling like a shark. Every day you stay hidden is another day they consolidate their positions and cover their tracks."

"I know that, but—"

"The only way we bring down your enemies is if you go back," Jensen continued relentlessly. "Back to that house, back to that marriage, back into the belly of the beast. But we need to do it in a way that explains your absence and puts you in a position where Lily can't just make you disappear again."

I sank down onto the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly unsteady.

"What are you proposing?"

"We stage a rescue," Jensen said simply. "After we grab Marcus and explain the situation, we set up an elaborate scene. You get tied up and beaten—make it look real, nothing too severe but convincing enough. We record it live, make it look like a hostage situation. Then we make an anonymous call to your wife with your location and live stream coordinates."

My mouth had gone dry. "You want to use me as bait."

"I want to force Lily's hand," Jensen corrected. "Right now, she's playing the grieving wife while positioning herself to take over your company. But if you suddenly resurface in a life-threatening situation, with the whole world watching via live stream, she'll have no choice but to play the dutiful wife and come save you."

"Or she could just let me die," I pointed out darkly. "Blame it on the kidnappers, collect the insurance money, and move on with her life."

"She won't," Jensen said with absolute certainty. "Because we're going to make sure the situation is too public for her to ignore. News media, police scanners, social media—we'll light up every channel. She'll have to save you, or reveal herself as a monster in front of the entire city."

I wanted to argue, to point out the thousand ways this could go wrong, but the terrifying thing was that it made sense. I couldn't hide forever. And if I just showed up at the penthouse claiming I'd escaped my kidnappers, Lily would have too much time to prepare, to spin the narrative, to arrange another "accident."

But if I appeared in a situation where she had to react immediately, with the world watching...

"What about Marcus?" I asked quietly. "Why would he agree to any of this?"

"Because someone just tried to kill you using his face and your abilities," Jensen replied.

"Because that means he's caught up in whatever conspiracy is surrounding you whether he likes it or not. And because I suspect once we explain the full situation, Marcus Holloway might have his own reasons for wanting to expose Lily Snow and her associates."