Chapter 114: Ghosts Of Power

Addicus stormed into his room, the door slamming shut with a crack that echoed like a gunshot. Fury burned in his chest. He hurled the belt across the room; *it hit the wall and slid to the floor, a useless snake.* Collapsing onto the bed, he felt the weight of his exertion—beating and violating Sharon had drained him, body and soul. The mattress creaked under him, its springs protesting. His eyes fluttered closed, and sleep claimed him fast, pulling him into a dream woven from memories forty years gone.

\---

**Forty Years Ago**

The boardroom smelled of cigarette smoke and old money, its oak table scarred from years of deals. Addicus, barely twenty, sat at the head, his father’s chair too big for his lean frame. Weeks after he’d orchestrated his uncles’ murders, Worthington Enterprise teetered on collapse. His father’s key partner, Mr. Francis, leaned back in his seat, puffing a Camel, his voice dripping with contempt.

“When Marcus ran things, I slept easy,” Francis said, smoke curling from his lips. “Now? A kid’s in charge. A boy.”

Addicus’s representative, Mr. Benjamin, opened his mouth to speak, but Francis cut him off. “Quiet. Let your boss talk. Or can’t he handle it?” His eyes locked on Addicus, daring him.

Addicus straightened, words forming, though he wasn’t sure what they’d be. Before he could speak, Benjamin’s hand signaled him to stop. Francis caught it, his laugh sharp. “See? The boy can’t even speak for himself. I’m done—my interests aren’t safe here.” He stood, his associates trailing him like shadows, leaving Addicus and his team in the stale silence.

“Why’d you stop me?” Addicus snapped at Benjamin once they were alone.

“What were you gonna say?” Benjamin asked, his tone calm but pointed.

“I’d have convinced him I’m as good as my father,” Addicus said, voice tight.

“And if he asked your plans? Your vision?” Benjamin pressed.

Addicus faltered. He didn’t know. The business was a maze he’d barely begun to navigate.

“You’re still learning,” Benjamin said. “Let us handle the tough parts.”

“You didn’t handle it,” Addicus shot back. “We lost our biggest partner. We’ll bleed assets ‘til we’re bankrupt.”

Benjamin nodded grimly. “You’re right, sir.”

“So what now?” Addicus asked. “How do we save the company?”

“One way,” Benjamin said. “A new partner. A big one.”

“Who?” Addicus demanded.

“Sam’s Cooperation,” Benjamin replied. “Our only shot.”

“Never heard of it,” Addicus said, brow furrowing.

“It’s a powerhouse, but its CEO, Samantha Logan, is choosy about partners.”

“She?” Addicus asked, surprised.

“Yes. Samantha, heir to Samson Logan. Runs the show at twenty-six.”

“I want to meet her,” Addicus said. “Set it up.”

“Will do, sir.”

\---

A week later, Addicus’s black Lincoln rolled toward Sam’s Cooperation, its towering glass facade gleaming under a gray 1940s sky. Inside, Addicus marveled at the marble lobby, its scale dwarfing Worthington’s modest offices. As they headed to the conference room, he pressed Benjamin for details on Samantha Logan.

“She’s sharp,” Benjamin said. “Demanding. One mistake, and we’re out.”

“How’s a woman running a place like this?” Addicus asked, the era’s biases coloring his tone.

“Her father, Samson, had no sons after her,” Benjamin explained. “Doctors said he couldn’t have more kids. He groomed her from birth to take over.”

“Twenty-six,” Addicus mused. “Barely older than me.”

“Don’t let that fool you,” Benjamin warned. “She’s tougher than men twice her age.”

At the conference room door, Benjamin adjusted Addicus’s tie, his hands steady but urgent. “Keep your head down. Don’t draw her attention. If she asks you something, sound sure, and don’t meet her eyes.”

Addicus smirked. “Relax. She’s just a woman.”

“This is your company’s future,” Benjamin said, pulling him close. “Take it seriously.”

“I am,” Addicus shot back, authority in his voice. “It’s *my* company. I’ll do what it takes.” He pushed past Benjamin and entered.

Samantha Logan stood at the room’s head, her tailored suit crisp, her auburn hair pinned tightly. She was striking, but it was her presence—commanding, unyielding—that hit Addicus hardest. Her voice carried weight, each word precise, intimidating the room’s suits. Benjamin led the pitch, outlining Worthington’s assets, and Samantha listened, her expression unreadable but leaning toward agreement.

“Do we have a deal?” she asked. “Sam’s Cooperation keeps sixty percent of profits.”

Addicus bristled. Forty percent would keep Worthington afloat, but it felt like scraps for a company his father built. He thought of Marcus—his lion’s roar, his refusal to bend. “Fifty percent,” Addicus said, his voice cutting through the room.

Samantha’s eyes snapped to him. “Excuse me?”

“Equal partners,” Addicus said, “or no partners at all.”

Benjamin’s hand grazed his arm, urging silence, but Addicus shook him off. Samantha’s frown softened, a flicker of intrigue in her gaze. “If Worthington deserves equality, convince me why.”

Addicus stood, heart pounding but voice steady. “My father built Worthington from nothing. His death wounded us, but I’m here to heal it. We’re still a giant in furniture—one man down doesn’t change that. Your company faced the same after your father’s death, didn’t it?”

Samantha nodded. “It did. I took charge, used his lessons, and made us stronger.”

“Exactly,” Addicus said, stepping closer. “Our companies are lions. Together, we’d rule the industry, shape it to suit us.”

“Bold words,” Samantha said, unconvinced. “But I need more.”

Addicus signaled Benjamin for files—confidential deals showing Worthington’s hidden value. He handed them to Samantha. Her eyes scanned the pages, widening slightly. Quadrupled net worth in a year was no small promise.

“Impressive, Mr. Worthington,” she said, a rare smile breaking through. “Tactical.”

Benjamin beamed, pride swelling for his young boss. Samantha extended her hand. “Equal partners?”

Addicus shook it firmly. “Equal partners.”

\---

Addicus jolted awake, sweat slicking his skin. The memory faded, but its weight lingered. “Will!” he barked.

Will burst in, tie askew. “Yes, sir?”

“Get the car ready,” Addicus ordered. “I’ve got an appointment in an hour.”

“Yes, sir.” Will turned to leave.

“And have Martha tend to Sharon,” Addicus added. “She handles her food, her room, everything.”

Will hesitated. “Sir, with respect—Martha’s soft on her. She could betray you.”

Addicus’s eyes darkened. “Martha knows what I do to traitors. She asked for this. Don’t question me.”

“If you say so, sir,” Will said, and left.

Addicus rose, heading for the bathroom. The shower’s hot spray stung his skin, but Sharon’s face haunted him—her silence, her defiance. He scrubbed harder, as if it could wash her away. Stepping out, he faced the mirror, fogged with steam. He wiped it clear, and there she was—Samantha Logan, young, as he’d known her, standing behind him.

*“Bravo, Addicus,” her ghost whispered, voice like silk. “Spectacular.”*

He glared at the reflection, hate twisting his gut. Closing his eyes, he willed her gone. When he looked again, the mirror was empty. Relief was short-lived. As he turned, she stood in the doorway, her smile cruel. “I’m not going anywhere, my lion.”

Addicus froze, heart hammering. Was she real, or was his mind breaking? Something moved in the hall—a shadow, fleeting but wrong. He gripped the doorframe, senses screaming.