The hum of the sleek black sedan filled the silence as the city passed by in streaks of light. Adrian sat in the back seat, his posture relaxed but his mind far from it. The Phoenix Ring caught the faint glow of passing streetlamps, a sharp glint of gold and fire on his finger. On his lap, a black gold card gleamed faintly, tucked inside a leather holder. He turned it over in his hand again and again, the weight of it heavier than any chain he had worn in prison.
"One hundred million," Adrian muttered under his breath, a dry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "And only five of these in Boston. Not bad."
His thumb brushed the surface of the ring, the sharp emblem pressed against his skin. "And this ring… apparently it lets me call in favors across the country. East Coast, West Coast, even underground. Crazy."
From the front seat, Harlow shifted uncomfortably. His voice broke through the quiet, low but firm. "It's not crazy, Adrian. It's real. The Chairman gave you the tools. That's all you need to know."
Adrian leaned back, his head resting against the leather headrest. His eyes narrowed on Harlow's reflection in the tinted glass. "Tools? You call this a tool?" He lifted his hand, the ring catching the light like fire. "I'm just some nobody who made it out of a cage. Why would the former Chairman treat me like this? I didn't do anything special. I just survived."
Harlow's fingers tightened against the steering wheel before he exhaled and turned slightly in his seat. His face was pale, his expression weighed down by something heavier than nerves. "You don't get it, Mr. Hale. The Chairman… he saw something in you. Something he thinks you'll use right. He doesn't expect thanks. He expects action."
Adrian's lips pressed into a line. "Action, huh? That's a big word. I'm not a businessman, I'm not a politician. And I sure as hell am not trying to run the world."
Silence stretched, broken only by the faint sound of tires cutting across wet asphalt. Then, Harlow did something Adrian didn't expect. He turned fully in his seat, his hands trembling before he dropped to his knees right there on the carpeted floor of the sedan.
"Please," Harlow's voice cracked, raw with desperation. "Please help my daughter."
Adrian's heartbeat stilled for a moment. He stared at Harlow, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of tension moved through his jaw.
"She's in trouble," Harlow pressed on, his knees digging into the carpet. His hands clenched as if holding back tears. "I can't fix it myself. I've tried. I failed."
Adrian leaned back slowly, crossing one leg over the other, his tone deceptively calm. "You want me to help your daughter? Why not go to the Chairman himself? Why me?"
Harlow's eyes shone with something Adrian didn't often see in men like him—pure, unguarded fear. "Because you're the one I trust. You helped me survive inside. You're smart. You're capable. And most importantly—you're free. You can act, and you can protect her in ways I never could."
The weight of his words lingered in the cabin. Adrian's thoughts drifted back, unbidden, to the years in prison—the blood, the fights, the patience carved into his bones like scars. Harlow had always been there, a quiet ally when most wanted him dead.
Adrian exhaled slowly, his voice low but certain. "Alright. I'll help. But you're going to tell me everything. Who's threatening her? How serious is it? And if this turns out to be a trap—" his gaze sharpened, "—I'll know before I even make my first move."
Relief flooded Harlow's face like a man given a second life. His hands shook as he fumbled for a thick folder, thrusting it toward Adrian with urgency. "You won't regret this. She's in B Corporation, one of the top three companies in Boston. But someone's trying to push her out, control the company. Maybe even harm her. I don't know how deep it goes, but she's in danger. Please… act before it's too late."
Adrian flipped the folder open. Pages filled with surveillance stills, office layouts, staff directories, security notes. He skimmed through, his sharp eyes catching detail after detail. He whistled under his breath. "This is a lot of intel. You weren't exaggerating."
"No exaggeration," Harlow said quickly, his voice still trembling. "Please, Mr. Hale. Just be careful."
Adrian's lips curved faintly into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Careful? Don't worry. I've survived worse than corporate politics."
His gaze lingered once more on the Phoenix Ring. Power, loyalty, fear—all resting in a single emblem. He clenched his fist, the decision made.
"For her," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "for me, and for anyone foolish enough to underestimate me."
The sedan turned, headlights cutting across the glass towers of Boston's skyline. Adrian slipped the folder into his jacket and sat taller, eyes fixed forward.
"Good," he said firmly. "Let's see what's waiting for us in Boston."