The Crash Of Emperors

The Crash Of Emperors
“How can Solara Heights management be this careless not to detect this!”

Ethan roared the words, his voice bouncing off the high ceilings of the penthouse. He wasn't just angry. He was livid. He was a man who had bought a fortress to protect the woman he loved, only to find out the fortress had glass walls and the enemy had the keys.

He stood on a chair in the living room, reaching up to the smoke detector. With a violent yank that strained the muscles in his back, he ripped the plastic casing from the ceiling. Wires sparked and dangled. He threw the device onto the floor and stomped on it with his heavy boot. Plastic shattered. The tiny red light that had been blinking, watching them, finally died.

“They will pay for this,” Ethan growled, stepping down. His breathing was heavy. “I will fire every single person in the security detail. I will sue the management company into oblivion. How dare they? How dare they let him watch you sleep?”

Aria stood by the sofa, her arms wrapped around herself. She wasn't looking at the broken camera. She was looking at Ethan. She saw the vein pulsing in his neck. She saw the terror masking itself as rage. He was scared. For the first time, the invincible Ethan Malcovich was scared.

“Allow me Ethan…. You broke one but there are so many” Aria said softly.

She walked up to him. She placed her hands on his chest, feeling the frantic thud of his heart.

“I want to fight them,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “I don't care if you would hate me! I want Marcus to come for me. I want your father to finish it off!”

She tried to push him away. She tried to create distance. If she ran now, maybe she could draw the fire away from him. If she surrendered to Marcus, maybe he would leave Ethan alone. She was toxic. Everywhere she went, she brought death and surveillance.

“I am a curse, Ethan,” she whispered. “Let me go.”

Aria said as she took her hands off from Ethan but Ethan grabbed her firmly on her waist. His grip was like iron. He wasn't letting go. He pulled her flush against his body, burying his face in her neck for a second, inhaling her scent, grounding himself.

“Calm down Aria,” he murmured against her skin. “This place is not safe for you this time. We can handle the rest together okay.”

He pulled back to look at her face. His eyes were intense, burning with a fierce resolve.

“I am not letting you run. We are not running away. We are Malcovich and Delaney. We don't run. We will fix this.”

He looked around the apartment. It felt violated. It felt dirty.

“Get changed,” Ethan commanded gently. “Get out of that robe. Put on something you can move in. We are leaving.”

Aria stared at him. “Leaving? To where? They are watching the exits.”

“Let them watch,” Ethan said. “I want them to see us. I want them to know that I am taking you to my father.”

Aria’s eyes widened. “Your father? Ethan, are you crazy? He wants me dead!”

“He won't touch you while I am standing next to you,” Ethan said with the absolute arrogance of a son who knows his worth. “I am his legacy. I am his only heir. He won't risk losing me. Go. Change.”

Aria hesitated for a second, then nodded. She ran into the bedroom.

She stripped off the beautiful robe she had worn throughout the entire day. It felt flimsy now. It felt like a costume. She went to the closet and shoved aside the designer gowns Marcus had bought for her. She reached into the back and pulled out clothes from her old life.

She put on a pair of thick, dark jeans. She pulled on a heavy wool sweater. She grabbed a long, dark coat that would hide her figure. She sat on the edge of the bed and tied the laces of her sneakers tight. She wasn't dressing for a gala. She was dressing for a war.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Norah was gone. Aria was back.

She grabbed a bag. It wasn't a purse. It was an old, leather school bag she used to use for carrying blueprints to construction sites. It was sturdy. It had buckles.

She walked out of the bedroom. Ethan was waiting by the door. He had put his jacket back on. He looked at her, taking in the sneakers, the coat, the lack of makeup.

He smiled. It was a small, sad smile.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “You look like yourself.”

Aria walked toward the door, her heart pounding. She was ready to leave. She wanted to get out of this fishbowl.

“Aria,” he said sharply.

She stopped, her hand on the doorknob.

Ethan pointed to the table in the living room. Lying there, forgotten in the chaos, was the manila folder. The files. The USB drive.

“You forgot the files,” Ethan said.

Aria looked at him. He knew what was in there. He knew those papers could destroy his family name. And he was telling her to take them.

Ethan only nodded “Take it,” he said. “If we are going to confront him, we need everything. We need the truth. Don't leave your weapon behind.”

Aria ran back to the table. She grabbed the folder. She grabbed the torn photograph of herself as a child.

She buckled the bag tight. She threw it over her shoulder. The weight of it was comforting. It was the weight of her father’s justice.

“Ready?” Ethan asked.

“Ready,” Aria whispered.

They walked out of the apartment. They didn't take the elevator. Ethan led her to the service stairs. They walked down eighty floors. It took a long time, but it gave Aria time to think. It gave her time to prepare.

When they reached the garage level, the black Maybach was waiting. The driver wasn't there. Ethan never came with the driver. He wanted to drive himself. He didn't want any ears listening to what they had to say.

The three bodyguards were there, waiting by their own SUV. They looked nervous. They knew the boss was angry.

“Follow us,” Ethan barked at them. “Keep a distance. Let no one get between my car and yours.”

“Yes, sir,” the lead guard said.

Ethan opened the passenger door for her. She climbed in. He slammed it shut and ran to the driver's side. He started the engine. The powerful car roared to life, the sound echoing in the concrete garage.

He peeled out of the parking spot. He drove fast, exiting the garage and merging onto the city streets. It was night now. The city was alive with lights.

Ethan drove with one hand on the wheel. His other hand reached across the console and found hers. He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed tight.

“Talk to me,” Ethan said, his eyes on the road. “Tell me everything. No more lies. No more secrets. If I am going to face my father, I need to know exactly what happened.”

She looked out the window at the blurring city. She took a deep breath and let the truth spill out.

“I thought you forgot me,” she whispered.

Ethan squeezed her hand. “Never.”

“When the fire happened... when I ran... I waited,” Aria said, her voice trembling. “I hid in the woods behind the estate for three days. I thought you would come home. I thought you would look for me. I was eight years old, Ethan. I didn't know you were in Switzerland. I just knew my best friend wasn't there.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek.

“And then... I saw the news. I saw the memorial service. I saw your father standing there, looking sad. And I didn't see you. I thought... I thought maybe you didn't care. I thought maybe you were glad I was gone.”

“Aria, no,” Ethan groaned. “I was locked in a dormitory crying my eyes out. They wouldn't let me come home for the funeral. My father said it would be too traumatic.”

“I know that now,” Aria said. “But back then... I was alone. And then Marcus found me.”

She told him about the hunger. She told him about the cold. She told him how Marcus Gerry had picked her up off the street like a stray cat and fed her hatred instead of milk.

“I never heard of you until the day she saw him in the news,” Aria said. “He told me he was my father’s partner. He told me your father stole everything. He told me he wanted justice.”

She turned to look at Ethan’s profile. The streetlights cast shadows across his face, making him look sharp and dangerous.

“The recordings,” Aria said. “They prove it. Marcus hired your father. Marcus paid for the hit. He wanted my father dead so he could take the patents. He wanted the technology. But your father... he was smarter. Or greedier. He killed my parents, but instead of giving the company to Marcus, he kept it. He blacklisted Marcus. He cut him out.”

“That was Marcus' anger over Norman, not that he wanted to get back my father's legacy,” Aria explained. “He doesn't care about my father. He doesn't care about me. He just wants what he thinks he paid for. He wants the Malcovich empire because he thinks it belongs to him. I am just a way to open the door.”

Ethan listened in silence. His jaw was clenched so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek.

“So my father is a murderer and a thief,” Ethan said flatly. “And Marcus is the mastermind who got outplayed.”

“Yes,” Aria said.

“And you were the weapon they threw at each other.”

“Yes.”

Ethan hit the steering wheel with his free hand. “God damn them. God damn them both.”

He looked at her. “And Miriam?”

“Miriam knows,” Ethan said. “I don't know how. Maybe she hired someone. But she knows your name. She knows you're Aria Delaney.”

Ethan continued “She called me,” Ethan said. “She told me everything. And if she told me, then definitely she told Norman. And I know my father knows, Aria. He knows you are alive.”

Aria felt a cold shiver. “Then we can't go there. Ethan, if he knows, he will be waiting. He will have guards. He will kill us both.”

“No,” Ethan said firmly. “He won't kill me. I am his blood. I am the only thing he has left that is real. He wants a legacy? I am the legacy. If he hurts you, he loses me. And if he loses me, his empire dies with him.”

Ethan turned the car onto the highway that led out of the city, toward the sprawling estate where Norman lived.

“I will make him a deal,” Ethan said. “I will tell him to give back your father’s company. I will tell him to confess. Or I will walk away. I will burn the Malcovich name to the ground myself. I will go to the press. I will release the files you have in that bag. I will tell the world that Norman Malcovich is a murderer.”

He squeezed her hand again.

“He is an old man, Aria. He is tired. He wants to keep his power. He will trade the past to keep his future. He will trade with Delaney Tech to keep his son.”

Aria looked at him. He sounded so sure. He sounded so powerful. He believed in the strength of blood. He believed that a father’s love for his son was stronger than his greed.

Aria wanted to believe it too. She wanted to believe that they could walk into the lion’s den and walk out free.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, Ethan. We do it your way.”

The car sped down the highway. The city lights faded behind them. The road ahead was dark, winding through the forest that surrounded the Malcovich estate.

It was just around 8pm. The moon was hidden behind clouds. The headlights of the Maybach cut through the blackness.

But before Ethan could finish up while his eyes were on Aria softly, looking at her with that intense, desperate love, Aria saw something.

In the side mirror.

Lights.

Not the lights of the bodyguards’ SUV. Those were further back.

These lights were coming from the side. From a dark access road that led out of the woods.

They were moving fast. Too fast.

“Ethan!” Aria screamed.

There was a crash.

It wasn't a sound. It was a physical force. A massive, heavy impact slammed into the passenger side of the Maybach.

It was a truck. A heavy, armored truck without lights. It T-boned them with the force of a freight train.

The world exploded. Glass shattered instantly, raining down on them like diamonds. Metal screamed as it twisted and buckled. The side of the luxury car caved in.

The Maybach spun. It lifted off the ground. It rolled.

One time. Two times.

Aria felt the seatbelt bite into her chest. She felt her head slam against the window. She saw the world spinning—darkness, lights, pavement, darkness.

The car came to a stop upside down.

Silence.

For a second, there was absolute silence. Then came the hissing of the radiator. The smell of gasoline and burnt rubber. The taste of blood in her mouth.

“Ethan?” Aria whispered. Her voice was weak.

She looked over. Ethan was hanging from his seatbelt. His eyes were closed. Blood was running down his forehead.

“Ethan!” she screamed.

She struggled with her seatbelt. Her hands were numb. She couldn't get it open.

The driver's side door was ripped open. Not opened, ripped. The metal groaned.

Rough hands reached inside. They grabbed Ethan. They checked his pulse. Then they tossed him by the side.

Then the hands came for her.

The passenger door, crunched and broken, was pried open with a crowbar. The screech of metal was deafening.

Aria kicked out. “Get away! Ethan! Wake up!”

Strong hands grabbed her ankles. They dragged her. She scraped her back against the broken glass on the roof of the car.

She was pulled out onto the cold asphalt.

She tried to fight. She tried to reach for the bag with the files, but it was stuck in the wreckage.

She looked up. She saw men. Three of them. Dressed in tactical gear. No faces. Just masks.

“No!” she screamed. “Ethan!”

Ethan groaned inside the car. He was waking up. “Aria...”

One of the men kicked Ethan in the head. He slumped back into unconsciousness.

“No!” Aria shrieked. She clawed at the man holding her.

But before Aria could turn, she was covered with a black hood.

It went over her head, plunging her into suffocating darkness. It smelled of burlap and chemicals.

Strong arms lifted her off the ground. She was thrown over a shoulder like a sack of flour.

She kicked. She bit. She screamed into the thick fabric.

“Let me go!!”