After breakfast, Erick waited until the last Laurent car disappeared down the driveway before slipping out of the Laurent residence.
He couldn’t risk any of the servants noticing he was gone.
A black sedan idled in the alley behind the mansion.
The rear window rolled down.
Ivan looked almost the same.
The scar… was still there, just as Erick remembered.
Erick climbed into the back seat.
The sedan pulled away before the door had fully closed.
“You look like trash,” Ivan said in Russian.
“English only,” Erick said.
Ivan smirked.
“Five years playing house servant, and this is what’s left?
Getting bitched at by maids?”
Ivan lit a cigarette.
“I heard about the baby.
Aria told me.
Sorry, Boss.”
Erick’s jaw flexed.
“Don’t.”
Ivan nodded.
“Understood.
Won’t mention it again.”
A few minutes later, Erick’s phone buzzed.
A message from Dominique:
[Vanessa’s divorce party tonight.
Martin will attend despite your behavior.
Try acting like an adult for one evening.
I am tired of cleaning up your messes.]
He stared at the Gerard Dominion building in the distance.
Five years ago, “Quade” was a name people feared.
Now, most people had stopped saying the name altogether.
The car stopped at a red light.
His new phone buzzed.
Unknown Number
Victor Hale Will Announce Quade’s Death Today.
Erick’s grip tightened.
“Then there was no reason to hide anymore.”
***
Ivan parked in the underground garage, wiping grease off his hands.
“I’ll wait here.”
“Get upstairs.”
“Boss, it’s boring as hell up there.”
“You’re coming.
I need backup.”
Ivan snorted.
“Fine.
But if I break someone’s jaw, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”
Erick entered the lobby wearing a frayed black windbreaker, faded T-shirt, and worn-out jeans.
His sneakers had long lost their white color.
“Sir?” The receptionist (Clara, according to her name tag) looked him up and down.
“This area is for authorized personnel only.”
“Board meeting,” Erick said, still walking.
She blinked, then gave a disbelieving laugh.
“I’m sorry… who are you?”
Security moved in quickly.
A large guard grabbed Erick’s arm.
“You need to leave, buddy.”
Before Erick could react, Ivan was beside him.
“Get your hand off him.”
The lobby went quiet.
Someone muttered something about calling the police.
Another joked that a homeless guy had wandered in looking for free coffee.
Clara’s expression shifted as she typed rapidly on her computer.
The elevator dinged, and every assistant on the floor froze mid-movement.
“Miss Aria…” Clara started.
Aria stepped out and looked straight at the guard gripping Erick’s arm.
Her expression hardened.
“Is this how we treat the founder and CEO of GD Tech?”
The guard went pale.
Aria’s voice remained calm.
“Let him go.”
He released Erick instantly.
She turned to the stunned receptionist.
“This is Chairman Quade.
You will show him the respect he deserves.”
The guard released Erick instantly.
Clara’s fingers froze above her keyboard.
“Chairman Quade?” she whispered.
Erick glanced at her.
“You can stop looking like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Nobody laughed.
The guard who had grabbed him took a nervous step back.
“I… I didn’t know.”
“That was the problem.” Aria looked around the lobby.
“You judged him by his clothes before checking his identity.
Remember that the next time someone walks through these doors.”
Erick adjusted the sleeve of his worn jacket.
“Don’t worry,” he said calmly.
“I’m used to being underestimated.”
Aria gave him a sideways glance.
“You seem to be enjoying this.”
“A little.”
For the first time, the corner of her mouth lifted.
“Still the same bastard.”
Aria looked Erick over, her face unreadable to everyone else.
Only he noticed the slight tightness in her jaw.
In the elevator, Aria stared straight ahead.
“You could have warned me,” she muttered.
“And miss the show downstairs?” Erick chuckled.
She exhaled through her nose, almost a laugh.
“Five years later and you’re still difficult.”
They rode up in silence for a few floors.
“You’ve been letting them walk all over you,” she said quietly.
“Your wife, her family, and now apparently your own employee.”
Erick didn’t answer.
There would be time for that conversation later.
When the doors opened on the executive floor, assistants froze mid-step.
A tablet nearly slipped from someone’s hands.
Victor Hale was stepping out of the boardroom, laughing until he saw Erick.
The laugh died instantly.
Erick didn’t slow down.
His shoulder crashed into Victor’s.
Victor staggered into the wall.
He pushed open the boardroom doors.
Eight heads turned at once.
Victor’s chair — Erick’s chair — sat empty at the head of the table.
Erick crossed the room slowly, his worn sneakers leaving faint traces of dirt on the polished floor.
At the head of the table, he pulled out the chairman’s chair and sat.
The room went completely silent.
“Victor won’t be joining us,” he said.
“We’ll start without him.”
Michael, one of the original board members, looked like he might choke.
“Quade?”
Erick leaned back.
“Still alive, Mike.”
Michael stared at him for several seconds, as if his mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing.
“But… we were told you were dead.”
“I know.”
Erick’s gaze moved to the others.
Nobody met his eyes for long.
One director suddenly became very interested in the papers in front of him.
Another shifted in his chair and adjusted his tie for no reason at all.
They were nervous.
“Five years is a long time,” Erick said.
“Long enough for people to get comfortable.”
He rested both hands on the table.
“Long enough for some people to forget who built this company.”
Michael slowly straightened.
“Quade, the board believed—”
“The board believed what Victor told you.”
Erick’s voice remained calm.
“That was your first mistake.”
He slowly scanned the faces around the table.
Many of them had known him when they were eating instant noodles in a freezing garage almost a decade ago.
“First order,” he continued.
“Victor Hale is suspended, effective immediately.”
No one spoke.
Michael swallowed.
“There are procedures…”
Erick tossed his phone onto the table.
“Second: someone sent me condolences on my death this morning.
I’ll be finding out who.”
He let the silence stretch, then gave a small, cold smile.
“Bad news, gentlemen.
Quade isn’t dead.”
He pulled the thick leather-bound financial report toward him and opened it.
His expression changed.
His eyes narrowed.
[LAURENT CORP – EMERGENCY CAPITAL INJECTION: $200,000,000 APPROVED BY V.
HALE.]
Erick closed the report.
The room went silent.
“Tell me,” he said quietly.
“Who approved transferring two hundred million dollars to Laurent Corp?”
No one answered.
Erick looked around the table.
Then he smiled.
“Good.”
He tapped the report once.
“Then I’ll assume it was theft.”