Chapter 2

Three years later.

The Gulfstream G650 pierced through the clouds, with the lights of Texas spread out beyond the cabin windows.

I swirled the bourbon whiskey in my glass, gazing down at the land that had once cast me out.

Three years was enough time for a discarded piece to grow into a leviathan.

Using the information advantage of my rebirth, I had precisely targeted every energy crisis and harvested every market fluctuation—from North Sea oil fields to Caspian pipelines, from Wall Street hedge funds to London private banks. In three years, I had built a financial monster capable of devouring the Van Guard empire.

I was now the shadow controller of "Abyss Capital," the invisible tyrant of Europe's black gold market.

The intercom crackled with my assistant's voice: "Sir, Logan has completely taken the bait. He'll sign the billion-dollar offshore drilling project gambling agreement next week."

I sipped my whiskey, savoring the sweetness of approaching revenge.

"What about his wedding with Ella?"

"Next month, the 15th, at San Antonio Cathedral. All of Texas's elite will attend. Logan has publicly announced that this will be his coronation ceremony as he formally takes control of the Van Guard empire."

Perfect. The more triumphant the prey, the more complete their destruction.

I set down my glass and looked through the cabin window at the distant flickering lights. That was the Van Guard estate, where I had made my vow in the storm three years ago.

Now, it was time to fulfill that promise.

"Prepare for landing." I told the pilot. "Tell ground control that the founder of Abyss Capital—is coming home."

The aircraft began its descent, engines tearing through the Texas night sky.

This time, I wasn't the banished outcast.

I was the tyrant returning to fulfill the oath made on that stormy night three years ago.

Houston's night sky was torn apart by countless neon lights. In my black-gold apartment on the forty-second floor, all of Texas lay prostrate beneath my feet.

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a glass of Blue Label whiskey, looking down at the heart of this energy empire.

Three years ago, when I was driven from this land, I was penniless. Now, I possessed capital enough to reduce any Texas financial magnate to ashes overnight.

"Sir, the target has confirmed taking the bait."

Assistant Victor entered, carrying a stack of fresh intelligence materials.

This former MI6 operative had come with me from London—cold-blooded, efficient, absolutely loyal.

"How did Logan react?" I didn't turn around, continuing to stare at the red signal light blinking atop the distant Van Guard Building.

"More greedy than expected." Victor opened the files. "At this afternoon's Texas Energy Summit, he announced to all media that Van Guard Group would surpass ExxonMobil within five years to become America's largest energy giant."

I chuckled softly.

Logan, that fool, was still as arrogant as in my previous life.

He desperately wanted to prove himself more capable than me—this impatience was exactly the weakness I needed.

"What about Nordström?"

"Our European operative has completed preliminary contact with Logan's team. Christopher Nordström, representing the Norwegian National Oil Fund, presented Van Guard Group with the cooperation proposal for the Gulf of Mexico offshore drilling project."

I turned around and took the surveillance transcripts from Victor.

They clearly recorded Logan's ecstatic reaction upon receiving the call:

"A hundred billion dollar investment scale? Have the Norwegians gone mad? ...What, we just provide drilling rights and technical support for 60% profit sharing? My God, this is like winning the lottery!"

Foolish.

Greed had cost him the most basic business judgment. Any rational businessman would question why the Norwegians would hand over such enormous benefits.

But Logan wouldn't question it, because his vanity needed a sufficiently shocking project to prove his capabilities.

"Did he report to Arthur?"

"No." Victor smiled coldly. "According to feedback from our mole in Van Guard Building, Logan explicitly ordered all relevant personnel to keep this confidential. He wants to complete the deal alone, then surprise the old man at the signing ceremony."

Perfect.

Logan's arrogance and eagerness for quick success were pushing him step by step toward my carefully designed trap.

I walked to the black walnut desk in the center of the living room and opened a coded safe.

Inside lay a legal document three hundred pages thick—the real gambling agreement.

Every clause in this agreement was an artwork meticulously crafted by the top law firms in London's financial district. On the surface, it appeared fair and reasonable, even slightly favoring Van Guard Group.

But in reality, every detail was a deadly noose.

"Victor, tell me where Mr. Nordström is now."

"Following your instructions, he has checked into the presidential suite at the Ritz-Carlton. Tomorrow night's charity gala, he'll attend as Chief Investment Officer of the Norwegian National Oil Fund."

Charity gala.

What ironic coincidence. Three years ago, it was also at a charity gala that Ella lured me toward destruction.

Now, I would complete the opening act of my revenge at the same type of venue.

"Will Logan attend?"

"He's confirmed his attendance. Moreover, according to inside sources, he plans to extensively promote this project at the gala, using the opportunity to showcase his 'business acumen' to Texas's elite."

I raised my whiskey, feeling the liquid's burn on my tongue. Logan, that idiot—he thought he was about to secure a deal that would change his family's destiny, not knowing he was signing his own death warrant.

"Did he understand the gambling clauses in the agreement?"

"Obviously not." Victor turned to a specific page. "Article 47 stipulates that if the project fails to achieve expected returns within eighteen months, Van Guard Group must bear all losses, including but not limited to compensating the Norwegian party's investment losses, penalty fees, and corresponding asset collateral."

"And what does this 'corresponding asset collateral' include?"

"All of Van Guard Group's oil field drilling rights in Texas, plus the three largest refineries under the group." Victor's voice carried a hint of admiration. "Sir, this is truly an artwork of commercial slaughter."

I walked back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, once again overlooking Houston's myriad lights.

Among these countless lights, one was particularly bright—the top-floor office of Van Guard Building, where Logan should still be reveling in his brief moment of triumph.

I took out my phone and dialed an encrypted number.

"Mr. Nordström, how are preparations for tomorrow night's performance?"

A voice with a Scandinavian accent came through: "Mr. Cole, you can rest assured. I've prepared complete Norwegian National Oil Fund background materials, including Oslo office documentation, bank account proofs, and government authorization documents. Logan Van Guard will never suspect my identity."

"Excellent. Remember, tomorrow night is just the appetizer. Your job is to make him completely take the bait, make him desperately eager to sign the formal agreement."

"Understood. However, sir, are you certain about appearing at the charity gala? Once you show up, the Van Guard family members might recognize you."

I looked at the night scene outside, my lips curving into an icy arc.

"Recognize me?" I laughed softly. "Mr. Nordström, you seem to forget one thing. The Cole Van Guard they drove out of Texas three years ago is dead. Tomorrow night, appearing at the gala will be the founder of Abyss Capital—a stranger they've never met."

After hanging up, I walked to the safe and retrieved something else—a custom Glock pistol with "Abyss" engraved on the barrel.

This gun had never been fired, but it would soon have its moment.

I sat on the sofa and began meticulously cleaning every component of the weapon.

The cold metal reflected deadly light under the lamp, like the hunting game about to unfold tomorrow night.

Victor stood nearby, quietly awaiting my next instructions.

"Victor, prepare some worn clothing for me. Tomorrow night's charity gala, I don't want them to know my true identity too early."

"Yes, sir. Anything else you need prepared?"

I reassembled the pistol and returned it to the safe.

"Contact our Swiss bank, prepare proof of funds for one hundred billion dollars. If Logan wants financial verification, I'll show him a number he'll never forget."

"Understood." Victor turned to leave but was stopped by my voice.

"Also, tell Nordström that if Logan asks about project specifics tomorrow night, tell him it's a classified Norwegian government energy strategy. The more mysterious, the more it will stimulate his greed."

Victor nodded and left through the door.

The room returned to silence, leaving only me and the city's neon ocean.

I walked back to the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the distant Van Guard Building.

Logan should be dreaming of wealth in his office right now, Ella might be selecting jewelry for the upcoming wedding, and old Arthur was probably in his study calculating the family's future.

None of them knew that death had returned to Texas.

I raised my glass in a toast toward the distant lights.

"See you tomorrow night, my dear family members. I hope you'll enjoy the gifts I've prepared."

The whiskey slid down my throat, leaving a burning trail.

Just like the fires of revenge about to ignite in this city.