VEIL OF DECEPTION

Power was an illusion—one that Ethan had mastered. With Pierce out of the picture, the city had no choice but to acknowledge the new king.

But ruling the underworld wasn't just about taking the throne. It was about keeping it.

—

The private dining room at the Obsidian Club was dimly lit, filled with the city's most powerful figures. Billionaires, politicians, crime lords—every major player had gathered for one reason.

To see who would claim Pierce's empty seat.

Ethan entered without hesitation, his presence commanding. The conversations hushed. Eyes turned to him—some wary, some calculating.

Vincent Moreau smirked from across the room. "So, the rumors are true. The Phantom walks among us."

Ethan took his seat at the head of the table, ignoring the weight of their stares. "Let's not waste time. We all know why we're here."

An older man, one of Pierce's former allies, scoffed. "You're young. Reckless. You don't belong here."

Ethan smiled—cold, confident. "And yet, here I am. While Pierce? He's finished."

Silence.

Then, Seraphina leaned forward, swirling her wine. "The question is, Ethan—do you have the strength to hold what you've taken?"

Ethan met her gaze, unshaken. "Try me."

—

By midnight, the city was burning.

Pierce might have been dethroned, but his loyalists weren't willing to go quietly. Three of Ethan's businesses were hit. A shipment at the docks went up in flames.

Dominic burst into Ethan's office, breathing hard. "It's a full-scale retaliation. They're testing you."

Ethan remained calm. "Then let's show them what happens when you test a ghost."

Within the hour, his people moved. Warehouses reinforced. Security tripled. Every ally who hesitated? Wiped from the board.

And when dawn arrived, Ethan left a message Pierce's remaining men wouldn't ignore—

Their strongest enforcer was found hanging from a bridge, a single bullet through his skull.

The city had a new ruler.

And he wasn't playing games.

—

Ethan returned to his penthouse, exhaustion pressing at the edges of his mind. But sleep wasn't an option.

Because she was waiting for him.

Seraphina lounged on his couch, a glass of whiskey in hand, her dress slit dangerously high. "Quite a night," she murmured.

Ethan poured himself a drink. "You're here for a reason."

She smirked. "Maybe I like watching you work."

Ethan leaned against the counter, studying her. She was unpredictable—dangerous in her own way. And yet, something about her called to him.

Seraphina stood, stepping closer. "You've conquered the city, Ethan. But power is lonely, isn't it?"

Her fingers traced the edge of his collar, her lips inches from his. "And I don't think you like being alone."

Ethan didn't move. Didn't blink.

Because she was right.

And that was the most dangerous part of all.