The jet sliced through the midnight sky, silent as a predator. From the window, the city below glimmered like a serpent coiled in light. Leon Voss narrowed his eyes at the skyline of VossTech Tower, the company that once bore his name—and now belonged to thieves.

He reached for the glass tumbler beside him, filled with a rare, aged scotch. The taste was sharp, smoky. Like memory.

"ETA: twelve minutes, sir," said his pilot through the comms.

Leon leaned back, fingers interlocked behind his head. Five years since they'd dragged him out of his father's boardroom like a criminal. Five years since he'd been framed for embezzlement he didn’t commit. Five years since they'd buried his name and buried his future.

But the man they tried to destroy no longer existed.

In his place was someone far more dangerous.

His phone buzzed once. No name. Just a number. A signal.

He pressed it to his ear. "Speak."

"Confirmation. Your brother's stepping down tomorrow. The board doesn’t know yet. But the cracks are showing."

Leon smiled faintly. "Excellent. Proceed with Phase Two."

"Understood."

He ended the call and slid the phone into his coat pocket. The city had no idea the devil was coming home.

The airport hangar was empty save for one black car. Leon stepped off the jet, dressed in a charcoal suit that matched the steel in his eyes. His driver, a man with a jagged scar down his jaw, opened the door wordlessly.

Leon slid in and lit a cigarette. He didn’t smoke for the addiction. He smoked to think.

"You still don't talk much, Crowley," Leon muttered.

"I talk when there’s something worth saying," Crowley replied, starting the engine.

Leon respected that. He surrounded himself with men like Crowley—silent, loyal, and deadly.

As the car sped into the heart of the city, Leon’s mind was already moving three steps ahead.

The players hadn’t changed much. His brother, Darren Voss, still sat at the throne he stole. The same executives who voted him out still walked the halls. The same old men whispered about him like he was a ghost.

Let them whisper. Ghosts had a habit of becoming real.

They pulled up to a nondescript building on the city’s east end. From the outside, it looked like an abandoned warehouse. Inside, it was a fortress.

Leon stepped into the war room. Digital blueprints of VossTech sprawled across a massive screen. Files. Maps. Photos. Faces. Every enemy catalogued. Every weakness exposed.

"Report," Leon commanded.

A short man with glasses stepped forward. Miles, his tech strategist. A genius in systems. Former black hat. Paid double to stay clean.

"Your brother’s email server is compromised. We’re tracking all internal communications. There’s discontent in the board. A few directors are… disillusioned."

Leon folded his arms. "Names?"

"Jackson Grant. Evelyn Shaw. Both long-time supporters of your father. They didn’t agree with your exile. But they were outvoted."

"And the traitor who cast the swing vote?"

Miles hesitated. "Gideon Cross. Legal counsel."

Leon’s jaw tensed. Gideon had once sworn loyalty to his father. Sworn to him.

"Put Cross at the top of the list. He burns first."

"Understood."

Leon turned back to the screen. He didn’t come back for titles. He didn’t come back for forgiveness.

He came back to dismantle the world that betrayed him—and rebuild it in his image.

Two days later, Leon walked through the marble lobby of VossTech, face hidden behind a tailored coat and low cap. No one recognized him.

The building hadn’t changed. Glass walls. Silver columns. A monument to ambition and steel.

He reached the 47th floor and stepped into the executive conference room like a shadow.

Inside, Darren Voss stood before a digital presentation, droning on about "market expansion."

Pathetic.

Leon took a seat at the back, silent. No one noticed until it was too late.

Darren paused, then turned pale. "Y-You—"

"Miss me, brother?" Leon said coolly.

Gasps spread through the room.

"You don’t belong here!" Darren shouted. "You’re not part of this company!"

"Correction," Leon said, standing. "I built this company. Father built the foundation. I laid the empire. You... you just stole the crown."

Security rushed in.

Leon didn’t flinch. "Touch me, and I release every piece of evidence I’ve collected on this company’s criminal accounting. Let’s see how long your stock holds up."

Everyone froze.

Leon’s voice was low, calm, deadly. "I'm not here to beg. I'm not here to talk. I'm here to take everything back."

Darren laughed nervously. "You can't—"

"I already have." Leon tossed a folder on the table. "Three board members are shifting their loyalty. I own 11% more shares than you now. I just became the majority shareholder."

The silence in the room was deafening.

Leon leaned in. "You stole my name, my future, and my blood. Now I’m taking yours."

Back in the car, Crowley handed him a report. "Camille Drake made contact."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "What does she want?"

"Claims she’s tired of working for Darren. Offers information in exchange for protection."

Leon smirked. "Let her come. But tell her this: Loyalty is tested by fire. She betrayed me once, I burned her alive."

That night, Leon stood on the rooftop of a building overlooking VossTech. Wind tousled his dark hair, the city humming beneath him like a machine ready to obey.

He lit another cigarette and inhaled the smoke like it was fuel.

Five years ago, he had nothing. No name. No allies. Just hate.

Now?

Now he had everything.

And soon, the world would remember Leon Voss not as the banished heir.

But as the man who burned an empire and built a kingdom on its ashes.