The first rays of dawn crept across the city skyline as the private jet touched down. Elias Thorne formerly Mr. Dime stepped onto the tarmac, the cold air slicing against his tailored coat. Behind him, Jude and Lewis disembarked, their expressions sober and alert. He had just broken the Oslo summit, publicly exposing Clarice Saville and signaling to everyone that he was no longer a puppet. But now came the real challenge: consolidating control at home, neutralizing hidden threats, and forging his empire or watching it collapse.
They arrived at Draxton headquarters before sunrise. The building towered over the city, its glass facade reflecting the fragile light of dawn. But inside, darker forces stirred.
A hush greeted him as he passed through the lobby. A mix of curiosity and restraint tempered the air: board members who had opposed him were still in the building, nursing wounds and plotting comebacks. Some wore masks of courtesy; others stared with calculated neutrality.
He made his way up to the executive floor a territory more battlefront than office.
Lewis stayed close, scanning for threats.
Jude handed him a folder. "Sir, polls on our public image are holding steady. We've got several proactive press outlets on standby. The board is calling for an emergency session. They demanded a full disclosure of our Oslo findings."
Elias opened the folder: there were minutes from the summit, financial records proving Clarice's shell game, and forensic reports from Neriah. He glanced at Lewis. "Have them set up a conference. I want every seat filled."
Jude nodded, already dialing.
Lewis leaned in quietly: "They're not going to make it easy. The Dexter faction and Crick loyalists still control a decent fraction." He paused. "They're pushing for an interim CEO while they "investigate.""
Elias smirked. "Let them investigate. They'll find nothing but me. And then they'll have to either kneel or get out."
By mid-morning, the boardroom was charged. It was the same table, the same faces but bigger, more tense.
Chairman Vance presided. Beneath his calm professional veneer, Elias sensed pulse and hesitation. Others: Price, Voss, Crick, Dexter but no Clarice. A streaming board member image flickered in via secure video.
Jude introduced the findings. Neriah took over, guiding the board through Oslo revelations: shell company tracing, forensic drone footage capture, pressed emails between Clarice and overseas buyers. When her presentation ended, silence held for a beat.
Chairman Vance cleared his throat. "The board appreciates the thorough disclosures. However, there are concerns that the public might still perceive this as insider vendetta."
Dexter nodded. "We must maintain corporate neutrality. The allegations are serious. They must be handled with prudence."
Crick added, "It's possible this Oslo summit was orchestrated for optics. A PR play "
Elias stood. "Let me be direct. You attacked me using manipulated cameras and foreign operatives. I responded with facts. If you'd rather drag us back into scandal every quarter, fine. I'll comply. But if you want stability, power, and genuine growth, here's what I propose..." He laid out a bold plan:
Independent Governance Commission a 7-member panel including two outside corporate ethics reps, one investigative journalist, and one international trade watchdog.
Annual Integrity Audit fully transparent, publicly released.
Strategic Acquisition Package leverage Valmere's assets but redirect funds into renewable energy and social development, turning scandal into capital.
Allocates 5% of profits yearly into housing, education, and industry grants in underdeveloped regions: the Reclaim Foundation's heart.
As he spoke, his calm intensity seemed to bind the room. Voss shifted in her seat; Price looked at Dexter, who now looked uneasy. Crick bristled but silence fell in the wake of his words.
Chairman Vance leaned back. "A bold vision. Distributed power. What of your role?"
Elias met his gaze. "I remain CEO. Fully accountable to the Commission and shareholders. I've been tested. I stood tall." He paused, voice low. "If you remove me now, I guarantee Valmere returns. A new wave of shadow players would re-enter with borrowed legitimacy. This is our best shot at stability. And growth. And trust."
Sweat glistened in Crick's collar; Dexter shifted uncomfortably. Voss watched him intently. Finally, with slow precision, she nodded.
"I move to approve your plan, Mr. Thorne."
Price seconded. The room upheld it. A small eruption of relief. Elias acknowledged with composure. He had struck back, and they had stood down.
By afternoon, news agencies ran headlines across global markets: "Thorne Reinforces Leadership: Oslo Summit Exposes Corruption; New Reforms Pledge Transparency".
Shares ticked upward. Analysts praised the radical shift. The Reclaim Foundation's launch videos trended isometric charts showed firm financial predictions.
In the mid-afternoon lull, Jude handed Elias two items
An anonymous encrypted audio file from Valmere network, hinting at attempts to manipulate internal voting blocks with foreign investments.
A private email thread between Clarice and an unknown "Nicolas" about securing the Valmere shell after "he dies".
Lewis extended a black duffel bag. Inside: a battered hard drive. "Found in a safe deposit no serial. One drive copied from the Yachting Company safe."
Elias looked up. "Is that what I think it is?"
Lewis nodded.
Later that evening, Elias returned to the Miran Isle coordinates. The gate still rusted; the chapel half-buried. He placed the hard drive and audio file inside the grave site, atop the ground. Then he backed away, silent prayer slipping from his lips.
He finally contacted Harlan "Bring me Nico's ledger. Tonight."
Harlan appeared at the nearby cottage. He handed Elias a thick ledger book the ledger of births, payments, estate expenses, and most importantly: a hidden section listing descendants secretly adopted into Swiss guardianship and Monetary transfers from Thorne bank accounts.
Under a grainy passport photo with initials "N.T." was the name "Nicolas Thorne Son of Elias Thorne".
He sank to his knees.
Everything collapsed into place: the decoy luxurious boy used as collateral in a multi-billion-dollar fraud scheme dies in his place. The shell company, Duchesse handlers, Valmere financing they'd all conspired that night.
He looked in the ledger at "Nico's account" registered under his name frozen assets still growing after 25 years.
Harlan helped him stand. "You have what you need. But beware their retaliation will be worse."
Back in the city, in private, Mr. Thorne convened an urgent night meeting with Dexter, Voss, and Crick. The CEO's office dripped with midnight gold light. He placed the ledger on the table.
"The man you had me replaced with is dead. So is the heir. But the money your offshore seeds are still tied to my son's account." He watched them pale.
Valerie looked defensively at her father, Dexter. He grimaced.
"Your best chance," Elias intoned, "is to protect your own names. Confidentially. If you expose this inside board, you risk jail time. But if you cooperate I'll grant amnesty. And we absorb Valmere's assets into the Foundation and Draxton PLC."
Voss and Price didn't hesitate they nodded.
Crick's reaction was a mix of fury and fear, but he still held dominance.
Valerie finally spoke: "You...you're giving us one chance?"
Elias nodded. "One. Then I remove your stakes from the board entirely. And you, Mr. Crick I sue you for embezzlement."
Dexter swallowed. "Agreed."
The next morning, the board issued a public statement: "Elias Thorne Transition Plan Ratified Board Restructured, Embezzlement Under Review, Valmere Assets to Aid Global Initiatives."
Clarice was named by name as a rogue operator; emergency legal action commenced. Dexter stepped down from the chairman role and replaced by an independent director.
The Reclaim Foundation launched a new campaign Nico's Legacy funding orphan refuges and microfinance programs. Elias stood at the podium, ledger in hand:
"This is my son I never met. And the empire built on secrets is now dedicated to service, transparency, and legacy."
Late that night, Mr. Thorne returned to his apartment penthouse but now welcoming: photos of the gospel choir, Cecilia at the charity, even a framed ledger page with Nico's name stamped.
He found Jude and Lewis waiting. They stood out of respect.
"My first official act," Elias said, "is to transfer control of Nico's account to a trust for the Foundation."
Lewis nodded. "You did good, sir."
Jude said quietly: "Do you know where that leaves Magritte?"
Elias paused. He paced to the window. Warsaw streetlights glimmered beneath.
"She's still out there," he said. "Watching. Maybe helping. Maybe judging. I owe her a conversation."
In a secluded manor in Paris, the silhouette of a woman again wearing fox-pin studied the international news coverage. She clicked off the screen and stared into the night.
"She's won every round," her voice trembled with admiration and something else.
A door clicked behind her.
It was Clarice rushed, desperate.
"Magritte," she whispered, "he's consolidated everything today. He made the board just like he planned."
Magritte didn't smile.
"Now what?"
Magritte's footsteps paused.
"Now," she said softly, "we see what he'll become."
Mr. Thorne alone on his balcony. Night sky clear for the first time in weeks.
He closed his eyes.
He listened: the city below, silent but alive. The air still, as if waiting.
"Whatever comes next…" he whispered, glancing at the ledger page still framed on the desk… "I'll uncover it. I'll own it. I'll transcend it."
He flicked off the lights.
The penthouse glowed with new purpose.
The empire dawned.