Chapter 1:
*Lucian Reign*, known in the corporate world as the charismatic CEO of *Reign Dynamics*, commands respect and fear in equal measure. At only 21, he's the genius behind the fastest-growing tech conglomerate—a titan of innovation and ambition. But beneath the tailored suits, the magnetic charm, and the razor-sharp intellect lies a darker truth.
In the shadows, Lucian is known not as a CEO, but as the ruthless mafia boss of *Crimson Reign*—one of the oldest and most feared syndicates in the underworld. He rules it with cold precision and an iron fist.
*7:30 AM – Reign Dynamics HQ*
Lucian stands before the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, coffee in hand. The city stirs beneath him, golden light creeping across the skyline. The rising sun gleams off the rose gold of his Patek Philippe glinting like a warning.
*Victor Laurent his long time assistant walk in *
""Market's up. Our shipping partners in Naples confirmed arrival—they're ready to initiate the deal. Just waiting on your word," Victor says. "Also... Marco's crew made a quiet move on the northern market yesterday."
Lucian's lips curve into a faint smile. It's subtle—but anyone in that room would know it doesn't touch his eyes.
"Schedule Naples for next Thursday," he says, voice calm but resolute. Then he chuckles lowly. "As for Marco…"
He sips his coffee.
"Let him be."
Victor bows slightly then exist the air behind him still changed
~Small Loft Apartment – Morning~
A soft glow slips through half-drawn curtains. *Ivy Goren's* arm flops lazily over the edge of her bed, smacking at her alarm in a futile attempt to silence the morning. Wrapped in a mountain of blankets, she groans.
*Pixel*, her cat, hops up and nudges her face—merciless and unimpressed.
"Five more minutes... no, ten… ugh, twenty," she mumbles, rolling over in sleepy defiance.
But something tugs her attention—a faint, blinking glow, soft blue-pink, coming from between two books on her cluttered shelf. She squints, shuffles over, blanket still wrapped like a cloak.
She presses a hidden button beneath the shelf.
In a whir of quiet clicks, the shelf slides aside, revealing a concealed *mini cyber hub* where fairy tale books once sat. Sleep forgotten, Ivy sinks into the hidden desk chair, already typing.
Lines of code flicker on the screen.
"Guess the world just couldn't wait," she smirks. "No sleep for the wicked."
She slips out the door moments later, cat fed, hood up, laptop tucked in a worn satchel—vanishing into the blur of the city streets.