Chapter 24: Finally Acting Like The Man Xan Predicted

The back of the car smelled like expensive leather and the metallic tang of blood. Leo had broken his own rule and called the driver; walking to a subway station looking like he’d been through a woodchipper was a level of "underground" he wasn't willing to entertain.

He kept his arm tucked against his side, his ruined jacket draped over his lap to hide the red soak on his shirt. With his good hand, he swiped through the system interface. The S-rank mission reward was blinking at him, a notification that hummed with more intensity than usual.

The numbers were staggering. The experience gain alone had pushed him through several skill plateaus, and the financial deposit was enough to fund a small private military for a year. But it was the supplementary window that caught his eye—a text box with a different font, one that looked less like a computer program and more like a typed letter.

> SYSTEM ALERT: REGIONAL INSTABILITY DETECTED.

> ANOMALY ACTIVITY IN SECTOR INCREASING.

> ADDITIONAL SOVEREIGN SUPPORT RECOMMENDED.

Leo read the words three times, the blue light of the screen reflecting in his tired eyes. Sovereign support.

He knew that title. Xan was a Sovereign—a title reserved for those who had survived the deepest layers of the Void and come back with the power to anchor reality itself. The system was basically telling him that the Brooklyn situation was the start of a trend, not an isolated event. It was suggesting he call in the big guns.

"Sovereign support," he muttered, his voice raspy.

He leaned his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes as the car navigated the Brooklyn Bridge. Sovereigns were like natural disasters in human form; you didn't just "invite" them over for a weekend. They brought their own gravity, their own rules, and usually, their own enemies. He filed the alert under the mental tab of Things to Panic About Later. Right now, the throbbing in his arm was louder than the system’s warnings. He put the phone away and watched the Manhattan skyline crawl closer.

Recovery day didn't mean a day off. It just meant he did his scheming from the couch instead of a conference room.

He didn’t go to the gym on Wednesday. He didn’t even put on a suit. He sat on the sprawling L-shaped sofa in his living room, dressed in a black hoodie and sweatpants, with a laptop balanced on his knees. Foxy had taken the opportunity to stage a domestic coup, claiming the oversized velvet armchair near the window as his personal throne.

"I’ve decided this is the optimal vantage point," Foxy said, kneading the expensive fabric with his paws. "I can see the park, the kitchen, and your slow descent into madness all at once."

"Glad I could provide entertainment," Leo replied, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

The cut on his arm was already itching—a sign that the Void-enhanced healing was working overtime. Since he’d returned from the ditch four years ago, his body didn't play by the standard rules of biology. Wounds that should have required stitches closed in hours; bruises faded before they could turn purple. It was a gift he tried not to think about too deeply, mostly because it reminded him of how much of his humanity he’d traded for survival.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table. A text from London.

Marcus: Jamie says you were doing something stupid yesterday.

Leo stared at the screen. He could practically hear Marcus’s voice—dry, aristocratic, and perpetually unimpressed.

Leo: Jamie doesn’t know anything. He spent half his trip trying to feed a spirit fox beef jerky.

Marcus: So you were definitely doing something stupid. Was it the sword or the company?

Leo: Are you coming in three weeks or am I giving your room to the fox?

Marcus: Three weeks. Try not to be in a body bag when I land.

Leo: Fine.

Leo tossed the phone aside. Foxy looked up from his armchair, his ears twitching. "I like Marcus too. He has a very grounded energy for someone who lives in a castle."

"You haven’t even met Marcus," Leo said.

"I like Jamie, and I liked him before I met him," Foxy countered, stretching his front legs out until his claws peeked through his fur.

"That's not how meeting people works, Foxy. You can't just pre-approve my friends based on a vibe."

"It’s exactly how it works when you can see the threads of a person's soul," Foxy said with a yawn. "Jamie is a mess, but he's a bright mess. Marcus is... darker. He fits you better. Like a matching set of luggage."

Leo didn't have a comeback for that. He just turned his attention back to the screen, where a new intelligence report was waiting.

The walls were closing in on Zhang Enterprises.

Leo watched the live data feed of an emergency board meeting—the third one in six weeks. In the corporate world, frequency was a sign of fever, and Wei’s company was burning up.

The report was a beautiful disaster. The regulatory investigation was no longer a "potential" threat; it was a full-scale audit. Two of Zhang Enterprises’ biggest logistics partners had quietly sent "notices of intent" to delay their contract renewals. In the language of high finance, that was a polite way of saying they were waiting for the ship to sink before they jumped to a new one. You didn't delay a contract with a healthy partner; you delayed it when you smelled smoke in the hull.

The board meeting lasted four hours. Leo had managed to secure a partial transcript through a disgruntled executive’s laptop—a man who had been passed over for promotion twice and was now more than happy to "leak" for a anonymous crypto deposit.

Ming: We need to control the narrative. A series of high-profile philanthropic announcements. We show them the Zhang foundation is doing good work.

Wei: We do nothing. We wait. The more we speak, the more targets we give them.

Board Member 1: Chairman, with all due respect, 'waiting' has lost us nine percent in market cap. Perhaps external crisis management? A third-party audit to prove our transparency?

The transcript ended with Wei’s curt dismissal of the idea. No decision.

Leo leaned back, a cold smile touching his lips. In a crisis, a lack of decision was the most dangerous decision of all. Wei was relying on his old-world authority, believing his name alone could stabilize the market. He didn't realize the name Zhang didn't carry the same weight when it was being dragged through the mud by three different federal agencies.

"He's paralyzed," Leo whispered.

"He's arrogant," Foxy added from across the room. "There's a difference between a man who can't move and a man who refuses to believe he's stuck."

Leo waited until the sun began to dip below the skyline, casting long, orange shadows across the penthouse floor, before he made the call.

He didn't use his personal phone. He used a burner that lived in the back of his desk drawer, one that had only three numbers saved in its encrypted memory.

Clara picked up on the second ring. She didn't say hello.

"I have a proposition," Leo said. He shifted on the couch, the laptop screen still showing the map of Brooklyn, now clear of red dots but pulsing with a faint, lingering violet light.

"I'm listening," Clara replied. Her voice was steady, professional, and held the sharp edge of someone who had been waiting four years for this specific phone call.

"Your documentation covers the foundation grant connection," Leo stated. "I know you've been sitting on the original ledgers. The ones Ming thinks were destroyed in the server fire."

"I have the originals, the backups, and the digital footprints of the men who tried to burn them," she said.

"I need it clean," Leo said, his voice dropping an octave. "Structured. Categorized. Ready to file across three jurisdictions simultaneously. New York, London, and Hong Kong. No loose ends."

"I've had it ready for four years, Leo. I could hit 'send' before you finish your next sentence."

"I know you could. But I need your word. The moment I say go, it goes. No hesitation. No double-checking. No waiting for my confirmation if the news breaks early. You flood the zone."

There was a silence on the other end of the line. A long, heavy pause where the history of two families seemed to hang in the air.

"And what do I get?" Clara asked.

"Everything you came to me for," Leo said. "The Zhang name becomes toxic. The assets will be liquidated. You’ll be the one holding the keys when the rubble clears."

"And your father?" she asked. Her voice was softer now, probing. "The man who trained you. I know about the estate, Leo. I know about the blizzard. I’m not an idiot; I’ve been watching you since you landed in Manhattan."

Leo closed his eyes. He could still feel the phantom cold of that night—the way the snow had felt like needles against his face as he crawled toward the tree line.

"Wei will know who's coming for him before the end," Leo said. "I’ll make sure he sees my face when the lights go out."

"That's enough," Clara said. Her voice was back to its sharp, professional self. "Consider it done. I’ll be waiting for the signal."

The line went dead.

Leo set the burner phone on the coffee table. He felt a strange, hollow sensation in his chest—the feeling of a long-delayed machine finally clicking into gear.

Foxy hopped down from the armchair and trotted over, sitting between Leo’s feet. He looked up, his eyes glowing faintly in the dimming light. "See?"

"Don't," Leo said, rubbing his temple.

"You're finally acting like the man Xan said you'd be," Foxy said, ignoring the dismissal.

Leo looked out at the city, at the millions of lights flickering on as the darkness took hold. He didn't feel like a hero. He didn't even feel like a CEO. He felt like a storm that had finally found its path.

"I'm just finishing what he started," Leo said.

Author's Note:

Writing this is sooooooo funnnn😂🤍

How do you think Wei will react when he finally realizes the "administrative errors" aren't errors at all, but a deliberate execution? 🌝 Let's have a convo in the comments, shall we? I promise to reply every single one!🙃🤍