"Master, before we proceed, I must report on a situation I handled in your absence," Crul’s voice took on a tone of cold, synthetic pride. "I acted under the assumption of your long-term psychological objectives."

Crul projected a series of logs, chat histories, and media files onto the air. As Ethan scrolled through the timeline of Helen’s descent—the manipulated photos, the public exhibitionism, the desperate "loyalty" to a digital phantom—he threw his head back and laughed. The sound was melodic yet utterly devoid of mercy.

"Crul, you’re brilliant," Ethan remarked, a sharp glint in his violet eyes. "I almost forgot about that bitch with everything going on, but you’ve kept her perfectly seasoned. Arrange a meeting with her soon; I want to see her ’progress’ in person. But first, let’s send a greeting to her husband."

Ethan leaned over the ledge, watching the lights of the city. "Send the entire archive to Prosecutor Carter. I want every photo, every video, and every transcript delivered to Vince in prison. Ensure he sees it. Ensure everyone in that facility knows exactly what his wife has been doing while he rots. I want him humiliated to his core. And Crul? Make sure the guards keep him on suicide watch. He doesn’t get to die yet. This is only the beginning of his payment."

"Understood, Master. The data transfer is already being routed through untraceable channels."

"And what about that little shit Lucas? How is he enjoying his promotion?"

"He is currently stationed in our California division," Crul reported. "We provided him with a top-tier executive suite, a luxury vehicle, and a staff of hundreds. He is an Executive Manager of the highest grade with near-total autonomy. We even planted ’distractions’ in the form of high-end companions, but he remains focused. He has been performing his duties flawlessly."

Ethan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "So, he thinks he’s redeemed himself. How pathetic. He thinks a few months of hard work can wash away the sins of the past? It’s time to pull the rug out. I want you to fabricate failures, Crul. Plant evidence of embezzlement, leak a massive scandal to the media—make his reputation radioactive. I want him pushed to the brink until he has no choice but to crawl back to his mother, begging her to find ’Etienne’ and plead for his life. This is going to be very entertaining."

"It shall be done, Master. Regarding our external targets, I have prepared a list of factions currently ripe for ’correction.’"

Ethan swiped through the holographic list of global powers, his finger pausing on a specific name. "Well, well... I know they are technically allies of the Blood Matriarch, but Olympus went out of their way to cause us trouble during the past. It’s time I asked for an explanation."

"An ideal target, Master," Crul agreed. "Since the fragmentation of the Union, Olympus has seized vast territories across Europe and the Balkans. They have expanded into East Asia as well; they are effectively a ’Super Russia’ in the current geopolitical landscape. Their ego has grown alongside their borders."

Ethan stood up, the wind whipping his long black hair. "A Super Russia, huh? Let’s see how their ’Gods’ feel when a Nightmare knocks on their front door."

–--------–

The Lexingtown federal prision didn’t operate on government time anymore; it operated on Royal time. When Prosecutor Carter arrived, the heavy iron gates just open cause he came with a tablet and a mandate signed in golden ink.

"Bring me Vince," Carter commanded, his voice echoing in the sterile, concrete hallway.

The guards didn’t ask for a warrant. They dragged Vince from his cell, his feet scraping against the floor. He was a shell of the man who had once stood proud alongside his son. several months of prison gruel and isolation had thinned his face, but a spark of hope still flickered in his eyes—a hope fueled by the letters Helen sent, telling him they were "being taken care of" by a generous benefactor.

They threw him into an interrogation room. Carter sat across from him, looking at him with the pity one reserves for a crushed insect.

"Vince," Carter began, his voice dangerously smooth. "You’ve been resting well while your family struggles, haven’t you?"

"My wife... Helen said everything is fine," Vince rasped, his voice dry. "She said Lucas is a manager. We’re going to be okay."

Carter let out a sharp, jagged laugh. He turned the tablet around. "Oh, you’re more than okay, Vince. You’re the talk of the town."

He swiped the screen. The first image was Helen in the bathroom stall, her arm under her breasts, her eyes filled with a heat Vince hadn’t seen in twenty years.

Vince’s heart skipped a beat. "What... where did you get this? This is private. Who did she send this to?"

"To the man who owns your life," Carter whispered.

He swiped again. The video of the park. The public exhibitionism. The "bitch" behavior in the shadows of the Royal Plaza. Carter leaned in, his face inches from Vince’s. "While you’re eating gray slop and sleeping on a cold slab, your wife is out there being a communal toy for the elite. She isn’t just a ’whore’ Vince. She’s a masterpiece of depravity. Look at her face—does that look like a woman who misses her husband?"

"No... no, she’s doing it for Lucas! She’s doing it to save us!" Vince screamed, lunging across the table.

The guards slammed him back into the chair. A heavy fist sank into Vince’s stomach, folding him in half. As he gasped for air, a guard grabbed his hair, forcing his eyes back to the screen.

"Look at the cars, Vince," Carter pointed to a photo of Helen stepping out of a Royal Ares sedan, draped in furs and holding shopping bags from designers whose names Vince couldn’t even pronounce. "That’s ’Master Ethan’s’ car. That’s his credit card. She’s selling every inch of her skin to pay for your son’s ’manager’ job. Every time she moans for the camera, your son gets a bonus. You aren’t a man anymore. You’re a cuckold whose family is being fed by the scraps of the man you tried to destroy."

"Kill me..." Vince sobbed, his spirit shattering like glass. "Just kill me..."

"Kill you?" Carter stood up, his eyes cold. "Ethan gave specific orders. You stay alive. You stay in this cell. And every week, I’m going to bring you new photos. I’m going to show you the videos of her finally meeting him in person. I’m going to make sure you watch her enjoy it."

Carter leaned down, whispering into Vince’s ear as the man wailed in agony. "You thought you were a player in this game, Vince. But you’re just a footstool for a God. Enjoy the show."

As Carter walked out, he signaled the guards. "He’s on suicide watch. If he so much as chokes on a bone, it’s your heads. Keep him alive. Keep him watching."

Behind the steel door, the sound of a man’s soul dying filled the hallway, a hollow.