Lucius Creed POV
Lucius Creed sat alone in his study, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting sharp shadows across his angular features. At twenty years old, he had already been officially named heir to the Creed empire—a title he had prepared for his entire life. His sandy brown hair was perfectly styled, each strand meticulously in place as though it were another symbol of his uncompromising control. His grey eyes, cool and detached, seemed to absorb everything without betraying a single thought. There was a striking refinement to him, an old-world elegance that set him apart even among those accustomed to wealth and power. His tailored suit, dark and understated, emphasized his composed authority. He carried himself with a stillness that was unnerving, as though even time itself had to move at his pace.
On his desk, a report lay open, its clipped, efficient language summarizing the latest obstacle to his ambitions. The project in question—a manufacturing facility planned for a struggling third-world country—had hit a wall of resistance. Local leaders were organizing protests, raising concerns about environmental impacts and exploitation. Predictable grievances, Lucius thought with detached interest, the kind of noise that always accompanied progress. His grey eyes flicked over the details without lingering, as if he were already calculating the solution. Resistance was a constant in his world, a force as inevitable as gravity and just as manageable. It was never personal. These people weren't adversaries; they were variables to be controlled.
Lucius leaned back in his chair, the faint creak of leather the only sound in the quiet room. He tapped his finger lightly on the edge of the desk, his expression impassive. He had seen this pattern before, played this game countless times. Whether it was a group of local leaders, a corporate rival, or even his own family, resistance always followed the same trajectory: loud at first, disruptive for a time, and then silenced when faced with the right combination of strategy and pressure. The world didn't reward hesitation or sentimentality; it rewarded precision, authority, and the ability to do what others wouldn't.
The report outlined a familiar set of options: financial incentives to pacify key officials, legal maneuvers to bypass regulations, and, if necessary, discreet methods to neutralize the louder voices. Lucius absorbed the information but didn't dwell on it. He already knew how this would play out. Diplomacy would come first—a carefully calculated display of goodwill to those who could be bought or reasoned with. For the rest, he would use other tools, ones less polite but infinitely more effective. There were many ways to clear a path, and Lucius Creed had mastered them all.
Closing the report with deliberate care, he set it aside, his movements precise and unhurried. He would handle this, just as he always had. Every problem had a solution, every obstacle a weakness to exploit. He didn't flinch at the cost, nor did he hesitate at the moral lines others might struggle with. Right and wrong were concepts he had discarded long ago, relics of a framework that had no place in his pursuit of dominance. To Lucius, results were the only measure of success. Tangible, undeniable results. Success, authority, power, and influence—these were the pillars of his existence, the foundation upon which he had built his identity. He didn't just seek these things; he embodied them.
Leaning forward, Lucius narrowed his grey eyes as his mind began to calculate the next steps. There was no room for doubt in his world, no space for failure. The locals would fall in line, the permits would be granted, and the factory would be built. When it stood, it wouldn't just be a manufacturing facility—it would be a monument to his unwavering will, another testament to the inevitability of Lucius Creed.
As he reached for his UChat tablet, the glow of the screen reflected off his face, momentarily breaking his stillness. A call connected, revealing the poised figures of Alexander and Rebecca Spain. The twins sat in their sleek office, their golden blond hair catching the light, their sharp blue eyes focused intently on him. Alexander leaned back, his grin casual but calculated, while Rebecca sat forward, her smirk faint but piercing.
"Lucius," Alexander began smoothly, his voice laced with curiosity. "What's this about? You've got us curious."
Rebecca tilted her head slightly, her fingers brushing the edge of her desk. "It's not every day you call us directly. I'm guessing this is about more than just a check-in."
Lucius adjusted his tie with deliberate precision. "The IPO is imminent," he began evenly. "The terms are finalized. As promised, you'll each receive a small but meaningful percentage of U's ownership. It reflects your contributions and ensures your place in the company's future."
Rebecca raised a brow, her smirk widening slightly. "Contributions," she echoed, her tone light but sharp. "That's a generous way of putting it."
Alexander chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "Generous, sure. But not exactly how I'd describe you, Lucius. You don't hand out percentages unless it suits you."
Lucius's expression remained calm, his grey eyes steady. "This arrangement is mutually beneficial," he replied smoothly. "Your roles have been integral to U's current position. The terms reflect that value."
Rebecca's smirk deepened, her blue eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her chair. "And by integral, you mean we played our parts."
Lucius inclined his head slightly. "Precisely. U's success required precise decisions at critical moments. You ensured those decisions were executed flawlessly. This arrangement reflects that success."
The twins exchanged a glance, their expressions subtly shifting. The unspoken meaning of his words hung in the air like a shadow. He didn't have to say it—they understood. The carefully orchestrated events that had brought U to this point had required their cooperation. They had played their roles, and now they were being rewarded.
"Well," Alexander said after a moment, leaning back with a faint grin. "I have to admit, it's a nice touch. You're not one to forget promises, are you?"
Rebecca tilted her head, her smirk softening. "You've made your point, Lucius. The terms are fair. I think we can move forward."
Lucius inclined his head slightly. "Good. The documents will be sent over shortly. Once finalized, we'll proceed without delay."
The call ended shortly after, the screen fading to black. Lucius leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the desk. The twins had their reward—a small but symbolic piece of the empire, enough to placate their ambitions without threatening his control.
Years of planning had led to this moment, and everything had fallen into place. The twins had played their parts perfectly, clearing the necessary obstacles when it mattered most. Now, as U prepared to go public, Lucius sat at the helm, the sole heir to his family's empire and the undisputed architect of its future. Nothing—and no one—could stand in his way.