Chapter 5
516words
Within ten minutes, an encrypted email appeared in my temporary inbox.
The attachment contained a detailed DNA analysis and background investigation.
I opened it, and the stark text on screen cut through decades of buried secrets like a blade.
Ethan Lane was indeed Walter Lane's son.
But the final column of the report—the paternal DNA match—pointed to someone else entirely.
My grandfather, Harrison Howard, founder of Howard Group.
Ethan Lane was my father's half-brother.
He was my… uncle.
The report detailed how my grandfather had an affair with Ethan's mother years ago, then abandoned her for an arranged marriage. Desperate, she married Walter Lane, who had been pursuing her relentlessly.
Walter Lane raised Ethan as his own, never knowing the boy was actually his business rival's son.
My grandfather had searched for them until his death, even leaving a will granting Ethan thirty percent of Howard Group shares as compensation.
My father had kept this will all along.
The "blood debt" and "amends" in my father's diary referred to this!
Everything finally made sense.
Ethan Lane's revenge was a cosmic joke.
He'd hated and killed the wrong people.
What he'd destroyed wasn't his enemy's family but his own blood relatives—the only ones he had left.
The Howard Group he'd been so determined to seize already had shares set aside for him!
A crushing sense of absurdity and hatred twisted in my chest, threatening to tear me apart.
I didn't cry.
My tears had dried up when I'd gathered those bills from the floor.
I calmly closed the email and wiped the computer's history.
With my remaining money, I purchased a used laptop and several burner phones.
The true game of revenge was only now beginning.
Ethan thought he'd won, unaware I held the trump card that would destroy him completely.
I didn't immediately release the DNA report.
That would be too merciful.
I wanted him to lose everything piece by piece.
I wanted him to taste every ounce of suffering my father, brother, and I had endured.
I logged into my brother's Encrypted Cloud Drive.
Inside, beyond the video of Ethan and Mr. Chen, lay numerous other "surprises."
My brother was meticulous—from the moment he suspected Ethan, he'd been quietly gathering evidence.
One folder contained photos of Ethan's clandestine meetings with government officials, alongside records of suspicious financial transactions.
Another folder documented Ethan's international money laundering operations using Howard Group's offshore accounts.
Any single piece of this evidence could destroy him completely.
But I chose to start with the video he thought was his perfect alibi.
I extracted a segment showing Mr. Chen ranting about making Howard Group pay, then anonymously sent it to scandal-hungry financial media outlets through an overseas server.
The email was simple: "Chen and Lane conspiring to short Howard Group shares—explosive insider details."
After completing my task, I closed the laptop and left the internet café.
Outside, night had fallen.
The city's neon lights flickered coldly, as false as Ethan's smile.
Ethan Lane, the game has begun.
And this time, I won't give you any chance to escape.
