Chapter 67 Chapter 67
DOMINIC'S POV
The bar was nothing special. Dirty, dingy, and pretty much dripping with spilled sorrows and phantom cigarette smoke. Situated in a decaying strip mall of the kind where businesses came to die. Perfect, the kind where no one cared. The kind where you exchanged secrets for which you never got paid. Life was normal here, not like the sophisticated bars where everyone is trying to make an impression.
I walked in like I had nothing to lose because, literally, I didn't anymore. When I stepped in, I dialled the number trying to find the person i was here for and he turned around. He was already sitting there in a biith by the corner. He wore a leather jacket and his face was a little too shaved, posture a little too stiff to belong in a place like this. He looked like someone who had once mattered and was trying not to look like he cared that he didn't anymore.
"Dominic Smith," he greeted, raising a glass of brown liquor as she stood to say hello. "Glad you made it."
I didn't bother to sit. Not yet. "You look vaugely familiar. Name?"
"Call me Marcus."
"Sit down, Marcus. You said you had something on Liana. I'm listening."
He nodded towards the chair next to him. "This is not a standing conversation, you should sit down too."
I sat, but I did not relax. Marcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes glinted with something sharp edged. Desperation in a mask of ambition. "I want to take her down," he stated matter of factly.
I arched an eyebrow. "And you think I'd be interested in that because?"
He smiled. "You lost your title if not your company, your image is dragged all because of her. I figured that put us, at the very least, on the same page."
"On the same page isn't exactly the same as useful," I replied. "Why do you want her taken down?"
He leaned back, stirring his drink. "Does it matter?"
"It matters to me. If I don't know what your motive is, I don't know what your endgame is. And I don't play with ghosts."
He exhaled and laughed, low and bitter. "Alright. You want the story? I had a tech logistics business I have owned since university. I made it from the ground up but we got in a bit of trouble, needed investors. I wasn't selling, just needed to have some breathing space."
"Guess again," I whispered. "She threw you a lifeline."
His jaw unclenched. "She offered me something, cash for most shares. I said no and she pressured and my debt mounted. The second I gave in, she moved in and bought it at a price that wouldn't cover my R&D expenses. And now she owns it, renamed it, claims to have invented it."
"You signed the contract."
"Without an option," he snapped. "She knew what she was doing. She plays the weak moments, gambles on the market like a shark in blood. Now, I want her to crawl. I want her net worth trimmed down. Her influence questioned. I want her to feel what I felt the day I gave her my legacy."
I looked at him with interest. "So this isn't business. This is personal."
"It can be both."
"Not that this is any of my business but that's hiw the business world works. If you don't prey on the week you might never succeed. Now what do you need from me?" I asked before he had a chance to respond.
He grinned, at last taking a drink. "You have access, connections, history. You're a big shot unlike me who was still trying to be stable when she showed up. You're the asset I need to cooperate with, together we will bring her empire crashing. Piece by piece. Reputation, stocks, influence."
I sat there for a moment, the weight of the proposal settling. It did make sense. It reconciled with all I already wanted. But there was something dangerous about aligning with a man whose anger had fermented longer than mine.
But I nodded. "What's your plan?"
"Z-core is her child. We can't exactly drag the head but we can start from the mushroom branches. We will make it public enough to embarrass her if it hemorrhages and private enough that if it hemorrhages in the right areas, nobody will even realize until it's too late."
"And what if she gets suspicious?"
"She won't. She believes you're nursing your wounds. She believes I'm insignificant. That makes us ideal."
I leaned forward. "So we're clear. You get your ego massaged. I get my revenge. But if you try to use me, Marcus, I will destroy you before she ever sees what hit her. I am sure you know who I am."
He raised his glass. "Clear."
We didn't shake hands. Guys like him don't get to do that with me. I came out of the bar with the wind slashing against my face. My car was halfway in shadows on the corner of the parking lot. I leaned against it for a second, taking out my phone.
There was only one man I could call to do this. The type who did financial collapse. I found his number and dialed it.
He picked up on the third ring. "Mr. Smith." His Spanish accent rolled out.
"I want you to run an investigation for me. I need you to dig up dirt, rhe type that leaves a stain too hard to clean even with a bleach. Find all the financial vulnerabilities of Z-Core. No matter how small, no matter how concealed. Do they have debts? Fraud histories? Inside leaks? Anything that can soil them."
"How deep?"
"Bottom of hell deep. This is not Something I want to take to court, this is for the media. They are the real vultures."
"Understood."
I paused. “Be very descreet, I don't want her to see it coming." I panted, with biting wind and burning rage in my chest.
I walked with increased speed. And wispered into the air “I am always equal to the task."
The night consumed my vow in full. But not to be forgotten, but for record keeping.