"To them, I was never a man. Just a placeholder. A puppet. But puppets don't bleed… and this one? Just found the strings."
Leonard sat in the corner of a decrepit internet café, the flickering monitor casting pale blue light on his unshaved face. The air reeked of sweat and burnt wires, but he didn't notice. His focus was locked on the screen. The flash drive he'd recovered from his father's journal had just unlocked after hours of decrypting.
"Come on… show me something," he muttered under his breath.
The files opened—slowly. Old emails. Codes. Numbers. Names.
Then: a spreadsheet. Hidden accounts. Shell companies. Offshore transactions. At the top corner of the file—Order of Serpents.
"What the hell is this…?" Leonard scrolled rapidly. The names made his stomach turn.
Ernest Dane. Priscilla Dane. Victor Wren. Mira Dane. And beneath it all… Matthias Holt. His father.
There were entries next to each name.
"$2M wire transfer – hush on 1989 estate will."
"$500K – bribe to provincial judge, M.P."
"Asset liquidation: Matthias' holdings re-registered under 'E. Dane Holdings Intl.'"
He gritted his teeth. "They didn't just kill my father. They buried him under their money."
The system's voice chimed coldly in his mind:
"Target Identified: Priscilla Dane. Sin Manifestation – Pending. Karma Level: 72%. Deception. Embezzlement. Fraud."
Leonard's fingers moved faster. He created a burner email, zipped a forged "charity exposure" file, and attached scanned images from the ledger. Then he blind copied every news outlet in the city.
SEND.
Next Morning.
Mira's phone buzzed relentlessly.
"BREAKING: Board Member Priscilla Dane Linked to Fake Orphanage Scam."
"Whistleblower Emails Suggest Tax Fraud by High-Profile Philanthropist."
"What the hell is this!?" Mira shouted, flinging the phone across the table. "Why is your name trending with fake adoption papers?!"
Aunt Priscilla burst into the room, face ashen, hair a mess, her pearl necklace twisted from panic.
"You said he was done! You said he was too broken to fight back!" she screamed.
Mira blinked. "He's just a—"
"Shut up! My face is on five news platforms! Journalists are camping at my damn gate! You told me the files were buried!"
Mira's voice trembled. "He… he doesn't have resources. Not even a laptop—"
"Then explain this!" Priscilla tossed a printout. It showed the ledger watermark — the serpent seal burned into the bottom corner.
Mira froze. "That's… that's a family mark. Only three people have seen that seal."
"Then someone in the family is leaking," Priscilla whispered. "And if it's not me, and it's not you… then it's him."
Elsewhere…
Leonard stood behind the bar, wiping down empty glasses. His face unreadable. The tiny burner phone buzzed on vibrate.
The system whispered in his head again:
"Fear Manifestation Initialized."
Across the city, people began murmuring online:
"What's wrong with the Dane family?"
"They covered something up… I can feel it."
"Didn't they fake some guy's charges?"
Rumors bloomed like mold. With no proof. No evidence. Just… fear.
He closed his eyes and let the voices swirl around his mind like ghosts.
"You ruined me, Mira. You ruined my father. You humiliated me, spat me out, and fed me to your wolves. Now… I am the storm you deserve."
That Night – Dane Estate.
It was raining. The porchlight flickered under the wind. A security guard opened the gate and frowned.
A photo had been wedged in the doorframe — sealed in plastic.
Mira's face was on it. A birth certificate. But the listed father…
Not Ernest.
It read: Julian Vex.
And in red marker, someone had written:
"Born of lies. Raised by vipers."
Mira stared at the photo, her hands shaking violently. Priscilla read the name and gasped.
"That man… Julian Vex… he died twenty-five years ago. In prison."
Mira looked up.
"Then who the hell is my real family…?"