A soft knock echoed against the room’s silence. The door creaked open, and Lena entered — wearing a simple black frock that fell to her knees, her honey-coloured hair held back with a plain headband. She walked slowly with the help of her crutch, her steps careful but steady.
The moment she appeared, all four men — Greyson, Nico, Max, and Carter — turned to look at her.
Catching their collective gaze, Lena instinctively paused for a second, unsure. But before the hesitation could linger, Greyson spoke, his voice unexpectedly gentle.
“You shouldn’t have come in like this. You should’ve asked a maid to help you.”
Lena replied calmly, “I’m okay now. Walking with the crutch doesn’t hurt anymore.”
Greyson nodded slightly, then gestured toward the sofa placed beside the whiteboard on his left.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4THTx3Ivqi
“Come — sit here.”
While the two exchanged words, Max and Nico quietly watched the entire interaction unfold.
Nico observed the face of his ever-serious director, the same man who just minutes ago was stern, clipped, and all business — now speaking in a tone that sounded like warm honey, soft and kind.
Meanwhile, Max arched an eyebrow, eyeing his usually grumpy friend speaking to Lena with such tenderness. His inner thoughts sparked a jolt of amusement.
Of course, she’s a lady — he’s bound to be respectful. Nico rationalized in his mind.
Oh, come on... it's his future wife — how else is he supposed to talk to her? Max thought, with a tiny smirk and a teasing shudder.
Once Lena had settled onto the sofa, Greyson turned to her and spoke firmly, “First of all, you — along with the entire house staff — will shift to my second residence tomorrow. For safety.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgnmPbNAu2c
I won’t allow that ghost to exploit you to weaken us.”
He wanted to say “to weaken me”, but the words never left his mouth. They stayed locked in his thoughts.
Lena nodded quietly in agreement.
Greyson continued, “As for the research Augustus West conducted — even I don’t know the full extent of it. But he entrusted those materials to you. Through that evidence, we might be able to trace not only his killer… but also uncover the truth about this ‘Ghost’—whoever he is.”
Carter interjected, “Sir, if we already know where the materials are hidden, then we shouldn’t waste any time retrieving them.”
Greyson replied with a measured tone, “I agree. But someone’s keeping an eye on me. The evidence is stashed somewhere no one would ever suspect… so there’s no need to worry. I’ll go get it—not tomorrow, but the day after.”
Nico looked up, concerned. “Sir, will you be going alone?”
“Yes,” Greyson said simply.
Max, clearly uneasy, leaned forward. “Don’t go alone. That place could be dangerous.”
Greyson looked at him, then gave a small nod. “Alright then.”40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1GEa0VD226
He turned to Nico. “Select the best shooters from the agency. Form two units—one will be equipped with AK-47s, and the other with top-tier sniper rifles. You’ve got the whole of tomorrow to arrange everything.”
Nico immediately responded, “Tension not, Director. Everything will be ready.”
Greyson locked eyes with him. “This is your responsibility. No mistakes. If someone screws up, they’d better decide their own punishment beforehand.”
Then Greyson turned to Carter. “And you — take Thomson, Chandler, and Carl. Oversee all security arrangements at the mansion. Carl will monitor the premises 24/7 via the security cameras. Chandler will supervise the guards at the checkpoints. Thomson will be stationed on the roof with a sniper rifle, backed by three armed guards. I want every angle covered.”
Carter was jotting everything down in his notebook at lightning speed.
Finishing his instructions, Greyson’s tone turned stern. “Engrave my orders in your mind. No room for error. Dismissed.”
Carter stood, gave a respectful nod. “Goodnight, sir,” and exited.
Greyson looked at Max and Nico. “Wait for me downstairs in the lounge.”
The two stood and headed out. Once they were outside the room, Max closed the door behind him and turned to Nico with a cheeky grin.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFkeWDUihzi
“Bet you anything — she’s going to be my future sister-in-law.”
Nico grinned back. “Why does that bother you so much?”
Max raised his brows dramatically. “Please, jealousy? I’m Max Bennett!”
He tilted his head arrogantly and added, “The world burns with envy for Max Bennett.”
Nico laughed lightly and waved dismissively. “Well, that world’s already burned to ashes.”
At that, Max playfully punched Nico in the side.
“Ow!” Nico yelped. Max grinned and teased,40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdIXfsAcnuG
“Living with your grumpy boss all day’s turned you into a smart-mouth now, huh?”
Still bickering and messing with each other, the two made their way downstairs.
After Max and Nico had left, Greyson pulled a chair and sat down across from Lena. She looked at him — he was already watching her with a softness in his eyes. Then, almost in a whisper, he said with a small smile,40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKHhWoK0qwf
“I called you here so you could see what we’ve done so far… and what we’re planning next.”
Leaning back in the chair, Greyson dropped his gaze to his hands.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlROXs0qQmI
Lena followed his line of sight. His hands were strong — not just in appearance, but in the way they carried weight. He was tracing his left palm with the fingers of his right hand, gently circling over the faded scar of an old cut.
Curious, Lena leaned forward slightly and looked at the mark. The cut looked deep — old, but clearly severe — the kind that doesn’t just leave a scar but a memory too.
Greyson was lost in the motion, head bowed, slowly running his finger across the scar.
Then suddenly, Lena reached out and softly took his hand into her own.
Greyson froze.
For a heartbeat, everything in him stopped — his breath, his thoughts, even the guilt buried somewhere in his chest stirred and then faded quietly.
Lena lifted his hand near her face and gently traced the scar with her slender, delicate fingers.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmHDUa6bZjj
Her touch was warm. Curious. Tender.She looked at him, worry flickering in her honey-brown eyes.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7dbIiCmY1s
“How did you get such a deep and long cut?” she asked, her voice low.Greyson gently pulled his hand back, slower than he meant to — she was making this harder.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnbVBgKGgG0
She wasn’t supposed to do this. Not like this.
Lena looked at him, waiting.
But Greyson diverted, clearing his throat and saying instead, “It’s getting late… you should rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day for all of us.”
Lena picked up her cane and stood. Greyson rose with her.
“Do you need help?” he asked.
Lena smiled, her voice light but steady.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ7AMEnpRdt
“No, thank you. How long will I keep leaning on others? It’s time I learn to walk on my own again… no— to run.”
She smiled at the end, with that same quiet fire in her.
Greyson gave a small smile back and said softly, “Alright then.”
The black-and-grey styled mansion stood still in the dead of night, shrouded in an eerie silence. It was exactly 3:00 a.m., and every servant was locked away in their quarters. Between the twin staircases that curled up to the upper floor, a delicate golden chandelier dangled low, its light spreading across the marble like a ghost’s whisper—casting twisted shadows across the walls and painting the hallway in a haunting glow.
Suddenly, the silence shattered.
A sharp, human scream tore through the night—raw, chilling, and filled with agony. Moments later, from the left corridor, Damien appeared. His footsteps were quiet, deliberate. His white dress shirt was stained in patches of blood. His hands, too, were darkened with it. Yet his face showed no concern. With one hand, he took a slow, steady drag from the cigar burning between his fingers; with the other, he rested his palm on the railing, eyes rising to the chandelier above him. The crystals caught the light, glittering like frozen stars—but there was no warmth in them. Just like his eyes: cold. Emotionless. Distant.
His dark hair was slightly messy, falling over his forehead. His frame was strong and broad-shouldered—handsome, well-built, masculine. His features were sharp and striking, a face that would normally command admiration. But in that moment… he looked nothing like a man.
He looked like something far beyond human.
Anyone who saw him right then—bathed in that soft golden light, stained in blood, silent and composed—would feel nothing but terror.
As the cigar smoke coiled upward in slow, hypnotic spirals, Damien’s eyes fixed ahead, lost in the past. A memory—vivid, brutal—rose before him:
In the very same corridor, a five-year-old Damien stood trembling in the shadows, clutching his mother’s hand tightly. His big, frightened eyes watched helplessly as his father, Lucian West, and his grandfather, Augustus West, screamed at each other inside the mansion’s grand study.
Augustus West—dignified, proud, towering—had always been a man of law, discipline, and honour. He had raised his two sons strictly, never allowing them to stray from rules and principles. He believed both were loyal, obedient. But the truth about Lucian had come crashing down only recently.
Lucian had fallen far.
He had slaughtered an innocent couple in cold blood—just one of many crimes committed in his insatiable hunger for wealth and power. He no longer recognized right from wrong. Money had twisted his soul.
Even now, confronted by his father, Lucian showed no shame. No regret.
Damien’s mother stood beside him, tears brimming in her eyes as she watched the two men shout. Augustus’s voice was filled with fury, while Lucian’s with venom.
Suddenly, Augustus slapped Lucian—hard. Lucian stumbled back, grabbing the edge of the table to keep himself upright.
Just then, the study door burst open. Sebastian—Lucian’s elder brother—rushed in, his expression thunderous. He stepped between their father and Lucian, pushing Lucian back.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sebastian shouted, furious. “You’d raise your hand against Dad now? Have you fallen so far you’d strike him too?”
At the doorway, a small girl—barely two years old—stood watching. She wore a pink frock that fell just below her knees, clutched a teddy bear in her hands, and had two neat little ponytails tied in her honey-brown hair. Her amber eyes were wide, confused. That little girl was Lena.
She stared at her father—Sebastian West—wondering why he hadn’t hugged her when he came home, why he was so angry, why Grandpa and Uncle were screaming, why everything felt so wrong.
Damien saw her too—little Lena standing silently in the doorway. She raised a hand toward him gently, inviting him closer. But Damien turned away, eyes back on the chaos unfolding between his father and uncle.
Lucian now had Sebastian by the collar, shouting, “You’re the one who told him everything, didn’t you?! You couldn’t handle the fact that your little brother surpassed you, succeeded more than you! That’s what this is!”
Sebastian yanked free of Lucian’s grip. “I told him because someone had to stop you,” he said coldly. “You crossed every line. For power, you shed the blood of innocent people. You think that’s success? What you’ve done is wrong—and you know it. But instead of owning your crimes, you’re giving excuses?”
Lucian gave a mocking laugh. “You still live in a fairy tale. The world doesn’t care about morals, brother. Only those survive who have power and money. And there’s only one way to get both—kill them, or own them. I prefer killing.”
His words made Augustus feel like his heart was being crushed inside his chest. But he held firm. He stormed forward and slammed his fist into Lucian’s face.
Lucian collapsed.
From the floor, Lucian looked up at his son Damien—just five years old—sitting on the ground, terrified, tears in his eyes.
Lucian’s lip was split, blood trickling down his face.
Augustus grabbed his son by the shirt and dragged him toward the door. Damien ran after them, his mother holding his hand and begging through sobs, “Please don’t do this! Don’t throw him out like this! He’s your son!”
But Augustus was relentless.
He pulled Lucian through the grand mansion’s front doors, past the stunned servants. Then he turned on him with steel in his voice:
“From this moment, you are no son of mine. I don’t know you.”
He gestured with finality.
“The power and money you sold your soul for? I’ll seize every last bit of it through my agency. You won’t get a single penny from me. Nothing.”
He turned to the guards at the gate.
“If I ever see this man near my mansion again—shoot him on sight.”
Then, more quietly, he turned to Damien and his mother.
“If you wish… you and Damien may stay here. But if you choose to leave… then I will no longer know you either.”
Without another word, he walked back inside. Sebastian followed him.
The tall doors closed.
Damien stood still, watching them shut, watching the last glimpse of his home vanish.
Then, Lucian stood up, brushing dust off his bloodied clothes. He took out his phone and made a call. Moments later, the three of them—Lucian, his wife, and little Damien—were gone.
But something had ignited inside Lucian that night.
A slow, consuming fire.
A fire that crackled with humiliation… betrayal… and rage.
He had lost everything—his father’s name, his empire, his home. His own brother had exposed him. His own blood had turned him into an outcast.
And as he walked away from the mansion that had once been his kingdom, dragging his wife and young son behind him, he vowed to burn it all down.
Not just the house.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwOY7kiHzF0
Not just the West family name.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtuAAgCcmrq
But every person who had ever stood against him.
Especially his brother.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡulBZHmZHRC
Especially Sebastian.
And years later… he did exactly that.
He hunted them down.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL9SZMHGeuE
Sebastian and his wife—Lena’s parents.
He didn’t spare them.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOez6TlBwf8
He didn’t hesitate.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb72d1FP9Op
He killed them both.
Because in his eyes, they had taken everything from him.
But Lucian didn’t stop there.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUv4ip7nTja
No. He made sure Lena would live.
He let her survive.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgNJ3UiB5C8
Alone. Broken. Haunted.
Because that was the real revenge:40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYxTqMgbj84
To leave behind a life that carried only pain.
Lucian West wasn’t just a fallen man.
He had become the shadow of every nightmare.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEHdU878xpo
The storm born that night.40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNXRd2GVxfM
And the fire still burned inside him.
From the very same corridor Damien had walked through just moments ago, a man emerged—his body soaked in blood, dragging himself helplessly across the floor. His wounds were so deep, so many, that every inch he pulled himself forward left behind a thick, red trail. His breathing was ragged, choked with pain. With trembling arms, he crawled to Damien’s feet and collapsed there, weeping.
Then, gasping through blood and tears, he begged,40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmgDJigWGOC
“S…Sir…p-please… l-let me go… I… I did what you asked… I-I found the girl… p-please, j-just let me go, Sir…”
His voice cracked with agony. The open wounds carved across his flesh barely let him speak, but he still pleaded for his life—from a man who had none to give.
When the man reached out and clutched Damien’s foot, Damien snarled and jerked his leg away with revulsion. His fury exploded.
With brutal force, he kicked the man’s face, again and again. Each boot connected with bone and blood. The man whimpered under the force, half-alive, now barely conscious. But Damien didn’t stop—his rage was blind. He struck like a deranged beast, his boots merciless, his eyes burning cold.
Then… silence.
Damien paused, chest heaving. He stared at the nearly dead man beneath him. He crouched down slowly, like a predator inspecting its prey, tilting his head with calm interest—as if evaluating whether the man still had any life left to torture. The man twitched, barely breathing. Damien’s lips curved into a faint smile, inhuman and unsettling. His eyes gleamed with eerie satisfaction, and he leaned in closer, his face now eerily calm.
“You… you’re a m-monster…” the man whispered, half-unconscious. “You’re not human…”
Damien blinked, pretending confusion. He brought his ear closer.
“Hmm? Say that again—I couldn’t quite hear you.”
The man’s voice trembled, almost a breath.
“You’re… a beast. A savage. Not human…”
For a moment, Damien looked almost thoughtful. Then he smiled coldly.
“Well now… what a thing to say.”
But the smile vanished. Fury returned.
He grabbed the man by his shirt, stood up, and growled,40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtfZt3StDV8
“Let me show you what not being human really means.”
With a chilling silence, Damien dragged the half-dead body across the floor, all the way to the stairs—and flung it down. The man’s battered body tumbled violently, leaving streaks of blood on every step before crashing to the ground below in a motionless heap.
From the top of the staircase, Damien watched with a smirk.
He slipped a knife from his pocket, gently dragging it along the railing as he descended. His footsteps were light… almost playful.
As he stepped closer to the limp body, he murmured,40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ58wmB1icxC
“My dad… my grandpa once said the same thing to him.”
Then crouching beside the body, he tilted his head and whispered sadly,40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRmsuJrVuBp
“My father and I… we were both human once. But the world wouldn’t let us stay that way.”
A beat. Then a twisted grin.
“But I am human.”
He suddenly shouted, loud and unhinged,40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ50pLTGTnkP
“DID YOU HEAR ME, BASTARD?! I’M HUMAN!”
He stabbed the man—again, and again. Each thrust of the blade was deeper, more violent, as if Damien was trying to prove his humanity through pain. His voice cracked with madness as blood sprayed.
He looked nothing like the poised, intelligent man he appeared to be.
He looked like a wild animal—desperate to be seen as human, while killing the very proof of it.
Lucian West had left this world after destroying his enemies. But before he died, he left something worse behind—his savagery, his madness, his thirst for blood—all carved deep into his son’s soul.
Lucian never realized that twenty-five years ago, in the name of revenge, he destroyed not just his enemies… but also his own son’s innocence and humanity.
And now, in the darkness and silence of that grand mansion’s stairwell, Damien West exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke—calm, satisfied—as he gazed down at the lifeless body of the man he’d slaughtered…40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHCrYC1bQrY
…and smiled.
40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTqUM86ox0m
40Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoQzAlv0So4
