The key rested on my desk, its faint glow casting eerie, shifting patterns across the polished surface. I leaned back in my chair, my gaze fixed on it, the weight of its significance pressing against my thoughts. It whispered of potential—raw, untapped, and possibly dangerous. But even with all its allure, it was a mystery for later.

Tomorrow came first. Chaos didn’t plan itself.

I picked up a sleek communicator, dialing a secure channel. After a brief click, M Falcon’s voice came through, sharp and controlled, cutting cleanly through the static.

“Arthur, I assume you’ve found something?”

“More than something,” I said, letting a hint of smugness slip into my tone. “I have a relic of power, an artifact practically humming with potential. But it’s not tied to him—at least, not directly. This one is mine.”

Her silence stretched, weighted with calculation. “Your confidence is commendable, but artifacts like this always come with strings attached. You need to tread carefully.”

I smirked, spinning the key idly between my fingers. “Careful is for amateurs. I’ll explore its secrets, but not before I ensure tomorrow’s chaos is perfectly executed. Speaking of which, I’ll need your insights on something.”

“I’m listening,” she replied, cautious but intrigued.

I leaned forward, the leather chair creaking beneath me. “Jeremy’s stirring the pot—subtle influence campaigns, media manipulation. But I want an additional layer. A baited hook, something to lure out the players still hiding in the shadows. The ones who’ve been waiting for their moment.”

Her tone shifted, the strategist in her coming alive. “A controlled disruption. Leak a rumor about a new power player—a phantom figure connected to your father’s legacy. Just enough to draw them out. The idea of unfinished business will make them reckless.”

“Not bad,” I mused. “But let’s add a twist. Tie it to me, subtly. Let them wonder if I’m the phantom or just the next step in his grand design. Uncertainty breeds paranoia.”

“Understood,” she said. “I’ll draft a framework and send it over.”

“Good.” I paused. “Oh, and Falcon—this key. It’s more than a trinket. It leads somewhere I haven’t been in years. If anything happens… keep the vultures away from my empire.”

Her response was immediate, firm. “Don’t be dramatic, Arthur. You’re not going anywhere.”

I chuckled, cutting the line before she could argue further.

The study fell silent, save for the faint hum of the key. I reached for my journal, flipping to the section where I sketched out my more artistic exploits. Tomorrow’s chaos was a symphony in progress. Jeremy’s campaigns would lay the groundwork, Falcon’s bait would draw out the hidden players, and my own disruptions would send ripples through the establishment.

Tonight, however, was for preparation. Old notes to review, weaknesses to analyze, contingencies to craft. The key rested on the desk, an ever-watchful reminder of the doors it could open. I would unlock its secrets when the time came—not as a son chasing shadows, but as a force carving my own legacy. The world would tremble—one way or another.

A sudden pounding at the door rattled the hinges, the sound echoing through the villa. Jeremy’s voice, tight with frustration, followed. I guess the world got my memo about the trembling.

“I told you, sir is unavailable—”

A deeper voice cut him off, smooth but steely, with the weight of command. “Open the door, or I’ll open it myself. He’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Curiosity sparked as I set down the glass of wine I’d been swirling absently. The mafia boss rarely visited after the incident, but this? This was different. Even then, he hadn’t lost his cool like this. The air in the room itself seemed to shift under his presence.

“Jeremy,” I called out, my tone measured. “Let our guest in.”

The door opened, and Lucien Rizzo stepped through.

I knew him well—his habits, his patterns. But since the incident, Lucien had become harder to read. His eyes, always intense, now seemed darker, deeper. Piercing in a way that dared you to underestimate him, those obsidian orbs held a weight far older than the man himself, a knowing that made you doubt your own footing.

Lucien smirked, his composure intact as he strode into the sitting area like it was a social visit. He shrugged off his black coat, draping it over the back of a chair before sitting with deliberate ease.

“Do I look like a man who turns down a good drink, Arthur?” His tone was light but edged with something sharper. He glanced around the room before adding, “Surprise me. Or better yet, do you still have that world-famous soup or pasta lying around? Just… leave out the love potion this time, will you?”

I sighed, exasperation flickering beneath my smirk. “It was one time, Lucien. And not even my fault.”

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His chuckle was warm, almost genuine, but his eyes held a flicker of the frustration still lingering between us. “Sure, Arthur. One time. Just like you’ve only ever started one war—or are 1 box of my limited edition. You’re nothing if not consistent. I love that about you champ that’s why you’re the greatest. ”

“Flattery,” I muttered, rising to pour his drink, “will get you everywhere.”

But as I reached for the bourbon, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was going to be anything but routine.

“Hey Arthur if you were trying to hide from someone like me. Who has all the resources in the world where would you hide.”

“ hm interesting question does it have something to do with the man who went missing with your secrets. I told you that briefcases were totally unreliable if someone you trust breaks that trust.”

Lucien’s smile thinned, the playful edge in his demeanor shifting to something colder. He leaned back in the chair, his hands resting lightly on the armrests as though he didn’t have a care in the world. But his eyes told a different story—calculating, dissecting every word I spoke.

“You’re deflecting, Arthur,” he said evenly, his voice devoid of its usual charm. “But yes, it does have something to do with the man who went missing—and the secrets he took with him. Trust, as you so eloquently put it, is a fragile thing.”

I poured his bourbon and handed it over, choosing my words carefully. “If I were trying to hide from someone like you, Lucien—a man with every resource, every connection—I’d bury myself where resources don’t matter. Somewhere off-grid, where influence and power can’t buy access. The kind of place where survival isn’t just inconvenient—it’s impossible without the right skill set.”

His fingers tapped against the glass rhythmically as he considered my answer. “So, the wilderness. Or maybe underground. Someplace forgotten, untraceable. You paint an interesting picture.”

“You asked,” I replied, sitting back down. “And for the record, the man who betrayed you wasn’t hiding from someone like me. He’s hiding from you. That’s a very different game.”

Lucien’s smirk returned, but it was sharper now, like a knife glinting in low light. “True. But even rats in hiding eventually surface—especially when they’ve stolen from the wrong man.”

“So the first place I would hide would be the least likely place he’ll be. So what do you think about tomatoes?

decent fruit, if that’s where you’re going with this,” Lucien said, arching an eyebrow. His tone was dismissive, but I caught the slight narrowing of his eyes—the twitch of curiosity he didn’t want to reveal.

I leaned back, a sly smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Exactly. A tomato is a fruit that disguises itself as a vegetable, blending in where it doesn’t belong. That’s what I’d do if I were him. Not the wilderness, not underground. Too obvious. I’d hide in plain sight, in a place so mundane that no one would think to look. The kind of place where you’d feel ridiculous wasting your resources searching.”

Lucien’s smirk deepened, the glass of bourbon poised just below his lips. He studied me as though trying to decide whether I was being serious or if this was another one of my games. “So you’re saying he’s hiding in a farmer’s market?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Not exactly. But something close—something unremarkable. People always think the grander the betrayal, the grander the hiding spot. But that’s where they’re wrong. Sometimes, the best disguise is mediocrity. Picture this: a small-town library, a diner in the middle of nowhere, or hell, a tomato farm. No one would expect a man who holds your secrets to spend his days picking produce or alphabetizing dusty books.”

Lucien nodded slowly, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “Hiding in plain sight. So obvious it’s ingenious. And it sounds like exactly the kind of stunt that bastard would pull.”

“Exactly,” I said, watching him carefully. “And if you’re serious about finding him, you need to stop thinking like you. Stop looking for shadows and secrecy and start looking for the mundane. I can guarantee you, he’s counting on you to overlook the simple.”

He didn’t reply immediately, his gaze distant, calculating. Then, with a single sharp laugh, he shook his head. “You know, Arthur, for someone who thrives on chaos, you’ve got an unnerving grasp of simplicity.”

I raised my glass in a mock toast. “Chaos is all about knowing where to sow the seeds, Lucien. And sometimes, the most fertile soil is the last place anyone would expect.”

Lucien drained his bourbon, setting the glass down with a decisive clink. “All right, Arthur. You’ve given me something to think about. But don’t think for a second that I’m letting this slide. If I find out you’re playing games with me, if this is just another one of your schemes…” He trailed off, but the unspoken threat was clear.

“Lucien,” I said with a grin, “if I were playing games with you, you wouldn’t even know it or maybe you would.”

“Hey Lucien I want you- . I purposely cut myself off just to see him act flustered. He stopped in front of the door but didn’t turn around.

“ Didn’t you hear me Lucien I want you, and your team to be at the square at 12:00 Tomorrow morning to help with setting up. So catch him quickly.”

Lucien froze for a split second, his back to me, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable. For a man as composed as him, any hesitation was revealing. He didn’t turn around immediately, choosing instead to let the weight of my words hang in the air. Finally, he spoke, his voice as smooth and unshaken as ever.

“You know, Arthur, sometimes I think you enjoy playing with fire a little too much.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his smirk sharp but unreadable, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Fine. I’ll have my team at the square. But don’t think for a moment this means I trust you entirely. I’ll set things up, but if this is some elaborate ploy to pull strings I didn’t agree to, you’ll regret it.”

I waved him off casually, leaning back in my chair. “Lucien, you wound me. If I were trying to manipulate you, I’d at least make it more subtle. This is business. I need you there, nothing more.”

With that, he gave a curt nod and strode out the door, his coat billowing slightly behind him. Jeremy closed the door carefully after him, then turned to me with a look that was equal parts concern and annoyance.

“Do you ever get tired of antagonizing powerful men?” Jeremy asked, his voice carrying the weariness of someone who’s had to clean up too many of my messes.

“Antagonizing?” I echoed, grinning. “Jeremy, that was foreplay.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about me being insufferable before retreating down the hall. Left alone again, I turned my attention back to the glowing key. Lucien’s visit had disrupted my rhythm, but it had also sparked something—a lingering question about the nature of the secrets the missing man had stolen from him.

And more importantly, what would drive a man like Lucien to personally pursue someone rather than delegating it to his considerable network? Whatever the answer, it was valuable. And if it was valuable to Lucien, it might just be valuable to me.

Tomorrow’s chaos would still unfold as planned, but now, another thread had been added to the tapestry.