Zenith: Retribution

Prologue

Emrys stared at the screen in front of him, eyes wild, fingers trembling. He hadn't slept in days, his mind too clouded by panic to even try. The numbers on his wallet were like a countdown to his demise, crashing harder with every refresh. What had once been his ticket to freedom now felt like a weight pulling him under.

How the hell did this happen?

He slammed his fist against the desk, too restless to sit still, too frantic to think clearly. The coin-Zenith-had soared, and with them, his hopes. He had told Claire, "This is it. This is the future." Now, everything was gone. It had all been a lie.

The phone rang again, his cousin's name flashing on the screen. Not now, Emrys thought, clenching his jaw and ignoring it. It wasn't like he didn't know what the call would be-"You should've sold, Emrys. You should've listened." But he hadn't. And now? He was left with nothing.

A suitcase zipped open behind him, and the sound was like a gunshot in the silence of the room. He turned. Claire was packing.

No. No, no, no.

"Claire, please," his voice cracked as he stood up, his feet stumbling over the mess of papers on the floor. "Don't do this. Not like this."

She didn't even look at him, her focus on getting the kids' things together, folding clothes into a bag with practiced efficiency. It was like she'd been preparing for this moment for weeks. "I told you not to get involved," she muttered, barely audible.

"I thought it was the right move. I thought-" Emrys reached out for her, desperation creeping into his voice, but she pulled away.

"You thought wrong," Claire snapped, her eyes burning with frustration. "You didn't listen, Emrys. You took everything. The kids' college fund, everything. You said we'd be set for life, that we'd be free. And now look at us."

She gestured toward the TV, her words sharp, like daggers. He didn't want to look, but he couldn't help it. The screen was full of flashing lights, a breaking news segment-Victor Hale's face, smug as always, but this time, it was different. They were carting him off in handcuffs. He saw the words "Rug Pull" scrolling across the bottom of the screen, his heart sinking.

"That man-" Claire's voice dropped to a whisper, but it still cut through him. "That man ruined us. You trusted him. You trusted him."

He tried to respond, but the words wouldn't come. What could he say? What was left to say?

Claire turned her back to him, gathering the kids. They were small, still too young to understand the mess they were in. His youngest tugged at her leg, crying, confused. "Mommy? Where are we going?"

She didn't answer, just kept moving, like the question wasn't even there. Emrys's heart shattered all over again. His kids-his family-leaving.

"Please... Claire, don't do this. I swear, I'll fix it. I can fix this." His voice cracked as he reached out for her, grabbing her leg. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please... don't take them. Not like this."

She looked down at him, her face hard, tired. "I can't, Emrys." Her voice was a whisper, as if she didn't want the kids to hear the pain in her words. "I can't keep drowning with you. I've been waiting... waiting for you to get it together. But you haven't. You didn't listen. And now, I'm taking them. You stay here. This is your mess. I'm done."

And just like that, she turned. He watched, helpless, as she walked to the door, her back turned to him, and the sound of her footsteps was like a hammer to his chest. His kids, the ones who had been his everything, followed her without question.

"No... Claire! Please..."

He reached for them, but they were already outside, their little faces blurry through the glass as the door slammed shut. The sound was deafening, final. Emrys collapsed to the floor, his hands shaking, his head spinning.

The wedding photo-his last reminder of everything good-fell from its place on the wall, shattering when it hit the floor. The glass scattered across the room like pieces of his broken life.

What the hell happened?

He couldn't even cry. What was left to cry for? He'd lost it all. His family, his future, everything he'd worked for.

And then, there it was again. The TV. That damn news anchor's voice droned on in the background, but all Emrys could hear now was the sound of Victor Hale's name. His eyes locked onto the screen. Hale, the man who'd taken everything.

His heart raced, anger and hate surging through him, igniting the fire he'd been too numb to feel before. He had taken his family. His future. He had ruined him.

Emrys stood, fists clenched at his sides, seething. His vision narrowed on the screen, on Hale's face. And for the first time, something shifted inside of him.

"You're going to pay," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and raw. "I'll make you pay for everything. I swear to God, Hale... you'll wish you'd never crossed me."

He wasn't going to let this go. Not like this.

And that was the moment the idea was born. Emrys wasn't just going to let Victor Hale rot in a prison. He wasn't going to sit back and wait for some promise of reimbursement that might never come.

No. He was going to get his retribution. Piece by piece. The man who had torn his life apart would pay.