Moris Sinclair had always been a man of strategy. He built his empire not just on wealth, but on calculated moves, relentless ambition, and an understanding of human nature.
And Ronan Vale?
Ronan was a different kind of predator—one who didn't just want power, but to prove that no one else had it.
But Moris wasn't just anyone.
If Ronan wanted to play games, Moris would make sure he was playing with fire.
Assembling the Team
Back at his penthouse, Moris sat at the head of a long glass table. Sarah sat to his right, her fingers tapping impatiently. Leo was across from her, still pale from what had happened in the office.
And then there were the newcomers.
Isabel, whose intelligence was as deadly as her beauty, studied the room with quiet confidence. She had been watching from the sidelines for too long, and now, it was personal.
Caleb Stone, a former intelligence operative turned fixer, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "This Ronan guy?" he muttered. "I've heard of him. And trust me, you don't want to be on his list."
Nina Brooks, a cybersecurity expert, was already pulling up files on her tablet. "He's a ghost. No official records. No digital footprint. The fact that he showed up in your office means he's confident we can't touch him."
Moris smirked. "That's where he's wrong."
Leo leaned forward. "So what's the plan?"
Moris steepled his fingers. "We make him come to us."
The Bait
Ronan thought he had control.
He thought he was untouchable.
Moris was about to change that.
The first move was leverage.
"Nina," Moris said, turning to her, "dig up anything—anything—on him. I don't care how small. If he has a weakness, I want to know it."
Nina nodded. "On it."
"Caleb, I need back-channel contacts. People who know his people."
Caleb's eyes gleamed. "I know a guy."
"Sarah, you and Isabel will handle the front. Make it look like we're panicking. Like we're on the run."
Sarah arched an eyebrow. "You want him to think we're weak?"
Moris's smirk was lethal. "Exactly."
A Dangerous Play
Ronan Vale was not a man who acted without reason.
So when he saw reports of **Moris Sinclair's empire crumbling—**bank accounts frozen, stocks dropping, rumors of betrayal—he took the bait.
A single encrypted message arrived at Moris's private server.
Ronan:You disappoint me, Sinclair.
Moris chuckled, typing his response.
Moris:Meet me. Let's finish this.
A pause. Then, another message.
Ronan:Tomorrow. Midnight. No security.
Moris smiled coldly.
Ronan thought this was the end.
He had no idea it was just the beginning.