The storm outside The Imperial Crest had not stopped for three days. The city lights flickered through the downpour, turning the skyline into a blur of silver and smoke. Inside the tower, the atmosphere was thick with unease.
Executives moved like ghosts through the corridors. Files were locked, communications went silent, and every conversation seemed to end in a whisper. Word had spread that John Raymond was alive, though no one dared to say it aloud.
In the boardroom, Rita watched the rain strike the glass. Morgan stood beside her, reviewing reports on his tablet.
"Three departments have requested emergency transfers," he said. "People are nervous."
"Good," she replied. "Nervous people make mistakes. We need those."
He looked up, surprised. "You sound like him."
Her lips curved faintly. "I learned from the best."
The elevator chimed behind them. When John stepped out, the air in the room changed. He moved with the calm assurance of a man who had already buried his fear.
"We have confirmation," he said without preamble. "The Benefactor's money went through my father's foundation. He used The Crest's birth to plant himself inside it."
Morgan frowned. "So your father was part of it?"
John's gaze was steady. "No. He was used, just like the rest of us."
He placed a folder on the table. Inside were financial records, signatures, and coded correspondence dating back nearly thirty years.
Rita scanned one of the pages. "This symbol keeps appearing beside every major transaction. It's not a company mark."
John nodded. "It's a cypher. I decrypted part of it last night. It spells one phrase: House of Shadows."
Morgan exhaled slowly. "That sounds like more than a code name."
"It is," John said. "It's the Benefactor's inner circle. A financial syndicate that predates The Crest itself. My father unknowingly built their shell empire."
Rita closed the folder. "Then destroying them means destroying part of your father's legacy."
John's eyes darkened. "My father's legacy was stolen. I'm only taking it back."
Across the ocean, in a dimly lit room overlooking Dubai's night skyline, Abdul Musa slammed his fist against his desk.
"They are cutting through every layer," he shouted. "Every transaction we make disappears within hours. Our accounts are frozen in half the banks."
A man in a dark suit stood near the window, silent. Prosper Mercy.
"We should have finished Raymond when we had the chance," Musa said bitterly. "Now he's back, and your Benefactor does nothing."
Prosper turned slowly. "You think silence means weakness? You should know by now, Musa. The Benefactor never moves until he knows where the blade will land."
Musa glared. "Then he'll find out soon enough, because I am done waiting."
He turned to his guards. "Prepare the extraction teams. We are going to finish this ourselves."
Prosper did not stop him. He only smiled faintly. "Try not to bleed too loudly."
That night, John met Rita and Morgan in the lower office. The room was stripped bare except for a projector showing The Crest's network map.
He pointed to three nodes blinking in red. "These are the primary accounts tied to the House of Shadows. If we trace them to their endpoint, we can expose the Benefactor's true base of operations."
Morgan tapped the screen. "That third one routes through a company in Geneva. I can trace it, but we'll need live access."
"Then we take it from here," John said.
Rita's brow furrowed. "You mean physically?"
He nodded. "Tomorrow morning, Geneva."
Morgan blinked. "You're serious?"
"Completely."
Rita stepped closer, her tone low but firm. "You barely survived the last time you went off-grid."
John's expression didn't change. "Then let's make sure this time, it's them who don't."
In Geneva, dawn came cold and bright. The Crest's private jet landed quietly on a secluded airstrip outside the city.
Morgan adjusted his earpiece as they moved through customs. "Our contact says the company's headquarters are inside a converted museum near the financial district. He can get us in, but only for thirty minutes."
Rita glanced at John. "And if we need more?"
"We make more," John said.
The museum was silent, its marble halls echoing faint footsteps. They passed statues and glass displays until they reached a restricted section marked Private Archive.
John used a forged clearance card to unlock the door. Inside, rows of servers lined the walls, each one humming softly.
Morgan set up his terminal, fingers moving quickly. "I'm in. The data is massive."
John scanned the room. Something about it felt wrong. The silence was too perfect.
"Rita," he said quietly. "Watch the door."
She nodded and moved to the entrance. Moments later, her voice came through, tense. "We have company."
John turned. Two armed men in suits were approaching, weapons drawn.
He grabbed a nearby metal case, flipping it over as cover. The gunfire erupted, echoing through the marble corridor.
Morgan shouted, "We're almost done!"
"Move faster," John snapped.
Rita returned fire, her aim sharp and steady. One of the guards fell, and the other retreated down the hall.
"Got it!" Morgan yelled. "I found the Benefactor's central node. It's routed through a Crest subsidiary called Lionwell Capital."
John's eyes narrowed. "That's one of ours."
"Not anymore," Morgan said. "It was transferred six months before your accident."
John's mind raced. That meant the Benefactor had used The Crest's own shell company to fund his entire operation.
They exited through the service corridor as sirens wailed in the distance.
Hours later, back in their temporary base, Morgan was still at his terminal, decrypting the files they stole.
He stopped suddenly, eyes wide. "John, you need to see this."
John leaned over. "What is it?"
"Lionwell Capital isn't just a holding company. It owns controlling shares in nearly every subsidiary under The Crest's network. He's been the hidden shareholder all along."
Rita's breath caught. "Then even if we take him down, he still owns us."
John's voice was low, controlled. "Not for long."
He turned toward the window, watching the snow fall over Geneva's rooftops.
"For years, he hid behind my father's empire. He thought I'd never find him. But this time, I'll burn every layer he hides behind."
Morgan hesitated. "And if he fights back?"
John's expression hardened. "Then I'll remind him why the lion wears a crown."
In London, Prosper Mercy received a single message on his encrypted phone. It contained no words, only an image.
A lion's crest, drawn in red.
He closed his eyes and whispered to himself, "The king has awakened."
And somewhere in the dark, the Benefactor smiled.