The soft glow of the evening sun cast a golden hue over the busy city streets. Francis leaned against the balcony railing of his penthouse, the world sprawling beneath him like a chessboard. Two years. It had only been two years since his life had transformed from abject poverty to billionaire status. Two years since Austin Wright, his father's old friend, had come into his life and changed his fate forever. But none of that mattered now. His mind was consumed by a singular thought: revenge.
"Francis," a calm voice broke his reverie.
He turned around to see Austin standing in the doorway, his sharp suit perfectly tailored as always. Austin was the embodiment of power and control, a man who knew how to navigate the dangerous waters of wealth and influence. He had been more than a mentor; he had been the key to unlocking the world that Francis had once thought was beyond his reach.
"Everything is in place," Austin said, stepping forward. His eyes, dark and calculating, searched Francis's face for any sign of hesitation.
Francis gave a curt nod. "Good. It's time they pay for what they did."
Anna Rashford. The name sent a wave of anger coursing through him. His ex-wife, the woman he had once loved with all his heart, had betrayed him in the most unforgivable way. She had left him for Ralph, a man who had once been his closest friend, when Francis was at his lowest point. But worse than that, she had refused to help with his sister Lucy's hospital bills. Lucy, who had been battling a rare illness, had died because they couldn't afford the treatment.
Her death had broken him, shattering any trust he had in people. Francis blamed Anna and her father, Robert Rashford, for Lucy's death. Robert, a powerful businessman with connections in all the wrong places, had laughed at Francis when he'd begged for help. That was the moment Francis had vowed to destroy them both.
"Anna and her father won't see it coming," Austin continued. "Their corrupt dealings will be exposed, and when it all crumbles, you'll be there to watch."
Francis clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He had spent years being powerless, but not anymore. Thanks to Austin, he now had the resources, the influence, and the determination to dismantle the Rashford empire piece by piece.
But revenge wasn't the only thing on his mind.
"Lauren's been asking about you," Austin said casually, taking a seat on the leather couch inside. "She worries that you're losing yourself in this quest for vengeance."
Lauren. Francis's chest tightened at the mention of her name. Austin's daughter had become an unexpected light in his dark world. She reminded him of Lucy—the way she cared, the way she saw through the cold mask he wore in public. Lauren had been there during some of his darkest moments, helping him see beyond the pain. Yet, Francis knew he was walking a dangerous line. He couldn't afford to get attached. Not now.
"I'm fine," he said, his voice harsher than he intended.
Austin raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The older man had a way of silently assessing situations, like a general preparing for battle. Francis had learned much from him, but he knew Austin's mind worked in ways even he couldn't fully understand.
As Francis turned back to the skyline, he felt the weight of his plans settle on his shoulders. Destroying the Rashfords was only the first step. His rise to power had been swift, but now he had to navigate the treacherous world of the elite, where trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen—an encrypted message from his private investigator. The pieces were falling into place. Soon, Anna and Robert would pay for every ounce of pain they had caused him.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Francis allowed himself one last look at the city below. It was time to strike.
And no one would see it coming.
Later that evening, as Francis sat alone in his study, a faint memory surfaced—his father, Frank, sitting at their worn-out kitchen table years ago, his face weary from a lifetime of struggle. Frank had been a good man, but life had been cruel. Francis had never understood why his father could never get back on his feet, why doors always seemed to close in his face, no matter how hard he tried.
Only now, years later, did Francis know the truth. Austin had revealed it to him not long ago. His father had been sent to jail—framed by the very man who had since become his mentor. Austin had orchestrated the downfall of Frank, ensuring that he would never rise again.
The revelation had been a bitter pill to swallow. How could Austin, the man who had helped him rise from the ashes, be the same person responsible for his father's demise?
Francis's grip tightened on his glass of whiskey. The more he thought about it, the more the betrayal gnawed at him. Austin had helped him, yes—but at what cost? Could he really trust a man who had once destroyed his family?
Before he could dwell on it further, there was a knock at the door.
"Come in," he called out, his voice steady, though his mind was anything but.
The door opened slowly, and to his surprise, it wasn't Austin or one of his employees. It was his mother, Clara.
Francis's heart skipped a beat. He hadn't seen her in years. She had abandoned him when he was just a boy, leaving him and his father to fend for themselves. Now, here she was, standing before him, her eyes full of regret.
"Francis," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I'm so sorry. I need you to forgive me."
Francis stared at her, a flood of emotions crashing over him. His mother, the woman who had left him, was now asking for forgiveness. But could he forgive her, when he couldn't even forgive himself for all that had happened?
The path he had chosen was dark, filled with vengeance and pain. And now, with his mother's sudden return, and Austin's betrayal lurking in the background, Francis realized that the journey ahead would test him in ways he hadn't imagined.
The game was just beginning. And Francis was determined to win, no matter the cost.
Chapter 2:
Shadows of the Past
The rain pattered against the windows of Francis's penthouse as he sat in silence, his mind swirling with thoughts of his mother. Clara's sudden appearance had stirred memories he had buried long ago—memories of abandonment, of nights spent wondering why she had left him and his father to struggle on their own. And now she was back, asking for forgiveness.
Francis took a slow breath, staring at the untouched glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. Forgiveness. The word felt foreign to him. For years, his life had been driven by a thirst for revenge, not mercy. He had never thought about forgiving those who had wronged him. How could he, when the wounds they inflicted still burned so deeply?
A soft knock on the door broke his train of thought. He knew it wasn't Clara—he had sent her away with no promise of reconciliation. The knock came again, a little more insistent this time.
"Come in," he called out, his voice steady despite the storm inside him.
The door swung open to reveal Lauren, her face softened with concern. She stepped into the room, her presence bringing a strange sense of calm with it. She was the only person who could do that—penetrate the cold, hard shell he had built around himself.
"I heard about your mother," Lauren said quietly as she closed the door behind her. She sat down in the chair across from him, her eyes searching his face.
Francis leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't know what she expects from me," he admitted. "She left when I needed her the most. Now she shows up, years later, asking for forgiveness as if that can erase everything."
Lauren tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. "People make mistakes, Francis. Sometimes we don't know why they do what they do until we learn the full story."
He frowned. "What story could possibly justify abandoning your own child?"
Lauren hesitated before speaking again. "Maybe she had reasons she couldn't share with you at the time. Maybe she was scared. Have you even asked her why she left?"
The question lingered in the air, and Francis realized that he hadn't. In all his anger and resentment, he had never actually asked his mother for an explanation. He had simply assumed that her leaving was an act of selfishness. But what if Lauren was right? What if there was more to the story than he had ever considered?
"I don't know if I want to know," Francis muttered, his voice rough with conflicting emotions. "I've spent so long hating her."
Lauren reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm. "Hate only keeps you trapped in the past. Maybe it's time to let go, to find peace for yourself."
Francis didn't respond immediately. He had always admired Lauren's ability to see the good in people, to offer a different perspective when all he could see was darkness. She had done that for him, time and time again, but this…this was different. Could he really confront the pain of his past and still hold on to the person he had become?
Before he could say anything more, his phone buzzed on the table. Francis glanced at the screen—a message from his private investigator. His heart quickened. The investigation into Anna and her father was yielding results.
"I have to go," Francis said abruptly, standing up from his chair. He could feel the shift in his demeanor, the cold determination returning as his thoughts shifted back to his plan. "There's something I need to take care of."
Lauren's brow furrowed, concern deepening in her eyes. "Francis, don't lose yourself in this. You've come so far—don't let revenge consume you."
But her words barely registered. His mind was already racing ahead, thinking of the next steps, the moves he needed to make. Without another word, he left the room, leaving Lauren in silence
The streets were slick with rain as Francis stepped out of the black car in front of a nondescript office building downtown. He had chosen this place for its anonymity, a perfect location for handling the darker aspects of his plan. As he entered the building, he was greeted by his private investigator, an unassuming man named Carter who had a talent for uncovering secrets.
"Mr. Devereaux," Carter greeted him with a nod. "I've got what you asked for."
Francis followed Carter into a dimly lit room, the air heavy with the scent of old files and musty paper. On the table, Carter spread out a series of documents, each one detailing the corrupt dealings of Robert Rashford. As Francis scanned the pages, his eyes narrowed. Money laundering, bribery, insider trading—it was worse than he had imagined. The Rashfords had built their empire on lies and deceit, and soon it would all come crashing down.
"This is everything?" Francis asked, his voice calm but laced with tension.
Carter nodded. "Everything we could find. It's enough to ruin him. But there's more."
Francis looked up, his interest piqued. "What more?"
Carter hesitated for a moment before sliding a folder across the table. "It's about Anna."
Francis's heart skipped a beat as he opened the folder. Inside were photos, emails, and confidential documents—all pointing to one thing. Anna hadn't just betrayed him with Ralph. She had been involved in her father's schemes from the very beginning. She had known about the illegal dealings, the backdoor deals that had cost people their livelihoods. She had played a part in it all.
A surge of anger coursed through Francis. He had always suspected that Anna was more than just a victim of circumstance, but this…this confirmed it. She wasn't just complicit; she was a willing participant in her father's crimes.
"Good work, Carter," Francis said, his voice cold and hard. "Prepare the files. We're going to bring them both down."
As Carter nodded and began packing up the documents, Francis stood in silence, staring at the evidence in front of him. He had thought his hatred for Anna had reached its peak, but now, knowing the full extent of her betrayal, he felt it intensify. She had been part of the reason his sister had died, part of the system that had crushed his family.
And now, she would pay.
Later that night, back in the penthouse, Francis stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. The man who looked back at him was unrecognizable from the person he had been just two years ago. Wealth, power, revenge—it had changed him in ways he hadn't fully realized.
The phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Austin.
Everything is set. The Rashfords won't know what hit them.
Francis clenched his jaw. Austin had been instrumental in helping him rise to power, but now, after learning the truth about his father, Francis's trust in him was shaken. Could he really rely on Austin when the man had once destroyed his family?
As he stood there, staring at the phone, a thought crept into his mind—what if Austin was using him for his own ends? What if this whole plan wasn't just about revenge, but about something bigger, something darker?
Francis shook his head, pushing the thought away. He couldn't afford to doubt his allies, not now. The time for hesitation was over. The game was in motion, and he was determined to win.
No matter what it cost.
As the rain continued to fall outside, Francis poured himself a drink and sat down in the darkened room. His mind raced with the possibilities, the moves he would need to make in the days to come. But even as he planned, the shadows of the past continued to loom over him, whispering doubts, reminding him that the line between ally and enemy was never as clear as it seemed.
The night stretched on, but sleep eluded him. There was too much at stake. Too much left to be done.
And in the end, only one thing was certain—there would be no turning back.