The abandoned warehouse stank of rot, river sludge, and rust.
Rain pounded the tin roof, leaking through in steady drips that hit the cracked floor.
Erick stared at a broken mirror propped on a crate.
He didn’t look like Chairman Quade anymore.
He didn’t even resemble the quiet son-in-law the Laurents had walked over for years.
He peeled off his soaked, ruined tuxedo and threw it into a rusted barrel.
Now he pulled on a faded hoodie, a greasy canvas jacket, and tough jeans.
He tied up muddy combat boots.
When he checked his reflection again, his whole stance had changed.
His shoulders squared.
To survive without his tech empire’s safety net, he had to disappear into the city’s shadows.
He had to become something that fought back.
“You look like a bank robber,” a voice cut through the damp air.
Remi sat on an upside-down crate nearby, arms wrapped around herself.
Her expensive black dress was torn and filthy, her coat soaked.
She was pale from their freezing plunge into the river, but her gaze stayed fierce.
“Adapting,” Erick said flatly, his polished corporate tone gone.
He grabbed a thick flannel and cargo pants from a duffel bag, tossing them to her.
“Wear these.
Mud hides you in Brooklyn.
A dress worth three grand gets you shot.”
Remi eyed the clothes, swallowed her pride, and moved behind a stack of rotting pallets to change.
“Where’s Ivan?” she called out, voice muffled.
“Here, Miss Laurent,” a strained voice answered from the dark.
Ivan lay on a makeshift cot in the corner, his side wrapped tight in bandages.
Clarke’s mercenaries had put a bullet through him, but he wasn’t done yet.
Sweat coated his face, but his hand stayed firm on the pistol by his leg.
“Takes more than a few hired guns to kill me.”
“Don’t move,” Erick said, checking Ivan’s bandages.
“The Aegis node is fried. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Clarke flagged my biometrics, so the feds took the Manhattan servers.
We’ve got nothing now—no money, no safe places, no legal help.”
The warehouse door groaned open.
Ivan lifted his gun.
Erick’s hand went to the switchblade in his jacket.
Aria Hunt walked in from the rain, pulling back her wet hood.
She looked tense.
Under her arm was a beat-up military laptop.
“Report,” Erick snapped.
Aria set the laptop on a wooden table and typed fast.
“Total blackout.
Clarke used DoD emergency powers.
They labeled ‘Quade’ as a cyber threat.
Your money isn’t just frozen—they’re moving it.
Leroy Laurent and Martin Clarke are at the federal building right now, trying to take control of GD Tech’s security keys.”
Erick stared at the screen, blue light on his face.
“They think they can control this system by grabbing the edges,” he muttered, smirking.
“Let them try.
Without the core architecture, it’ll reject them in two days.”
“There’s worse,” Aria said quietly.
She turned on an old TV sitting on a crate.
The screen flickered to life, showing a news channel.
The reporter stood in front of pictures of Erick and Remi.
“A huge scandal is shaking Manhattan tonight,” she said.
“After GD Tech co-founder Victor Hale’s sudden death, the Laurent family made shocking claims.
Police are hunting for Erick Gerard and Remi Laurent.”
Remi stepped out from behind some pallets, now in oversized clothes.
She froze when she saw the TV.
The screen flashed: THE SCANDALOUS LOVERS: INSIDE THE FORBIDDEN AFFAIR.
“Sources say Erick Gerard, estranged husband of Dominique Laurent, was secretly having an affair with his sister-in-law, Remi Laurent,” the reporter continued.
“But there’s more tragedy.
We go live to Dominique Laurent’s statement outside Manhattan General Hospital.”
The scene cuts to Dominique on the hospital steps, surrounded by her mother, Evelyn, and Martin Clarke.
She looked broken, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Erick isn’t who people think,” Dominique said, voice shaking.
They’ve been sleeping together for years behind my back.
When I found out, the stress made me lose our baby during our first year of marriage.
He killed my child.”
Remi gasped.
“That’s a lie!
She aborted months ago for her career!
Erick didn’t even know until—”
Erick didn’t react.
His face stayed cold as he watched Dominique twist the truth.
But she wasn’t done.
She stared straight into the camera, eyes turning sharp.
“The affair isn’t the worst part,” Dominique said clearly.
“We found out tonight.
Erick has been using fake names to prey on people.
We have proof he groomed an underage girl in a Brooklyn apartment.
He’s a predator.
A monster.
He belongs in prison.”
The screen showed a blurred photo of one of Erick’s old safe houses.
The warehouse went dead silent.
Aria closed her laptop.
Ivan cursed, gripping his gun tighter.
Remi looked at Erick, scared.
The Laurents hadn’t just ruined him—they’d made the world see him as inhuman.
If the police or Clarke’s men found him now, the public would destroy him before he could defend himself.
Erick stood perfectly still in the dark.
His clothes hid the billionaire, but his eyes were pure ice.
No anger.
No panic.
“They chose the fast way down,” he whispered.