Volume 6: The Flame of Vengeance
Summary: Through Izabella's connections, Jack successfully contacts an inside informant within Richard Group and uncovers a major illegal money laundering operation currently underway.
Chapter 1: The Informant
Midnight in New York. The wind sliced through Fifth Avenue like sharpened blades, unforgiving and relentless. Towering skyscrapers loomed above—cold metallic giants with glittering lights on their peaks that watched over the city, and over him—Jack. Once, those lights had symbolized his power, the brilliance of his empire. Now, they mocked him, reminders of how far he had fallen.
He pulled the collar of his filthy gray coat tighter around his neck. It was salvaged from a dumpster, barely enough to cover his body, offering no real protection against the biting cold. For three nights straight, he had crouched in the shadows of a dark alley across from La Bellavita, like a predator waiting for its prey. The scent of roasted garlic and basil drifted out from the restaurant—an aroma of luxury reserved for the elite. To Jack, it felt like acid burning into an open wound. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the nausea rising in his stomach. You must endure. You must stay calm.
His contact, codenamed "Rat," was a despicable little man who thrived in the shadows. A lowly cog in Richard Carter's machine, yet one of the most crucial. Rat managed all of Richard's illicit operations—his knowledge ran deeper than even Richard himself. Jack had sold nearly everything he owned just to gather enough cash for Rat's silence, promising him more once the job was done—enough to live comfortably for the rest of his life. That money came from gambling winnings in underground casinos. His luck hadn't abandoned him.
The back entrance of La Bellavita's kitchen was Rat's only escape from Richard's watchful eyes—and Jack's only chance. Through the half-open door, Jack saw a figure cautiously peeking out. It was Rat. Dressed in a stained waiter's uniform, his collar loose and revealing a yellowed undershirt, he looked as pathetic and repulsive as ever. In his trembling hands, he clutched a heavy black briefcase—seemingly filled with secrets capable of shaking Wall Street to its core.
Jack's heart pounded. Adrenaline surged through his veins like a flood. The fire of vengeance burned through his nerves, numbing the cold, drowning out hunger, leaving only raw, desperate desire. He knew—he had waited long enough.
Silently, he stepped from the shadows, moving with the grace of a hunting panther. The Wall Street titan was dead. What stood now was a man willing to do anything to reclaim what was stolen from him.
"Rat!" Jack whispered, his voice hoarse and edged with menace. It was nothing like the commanding tone he once used in boardrooms—this voice was rougher, colder, hardened by suffering.
Rat jerked like he'd been struck by lightning, nearly dropping the briefcase. His wrinkled face turned pale, as if drained of every ounce of soul.
"Y-You… How did you get here? We were supposed to meet at the old warehouse in Greenwich Village!" Rat stammered, his voice trembling like a leaf in autumn wind, thick with fear.
"Greenwich is too obvious. Richard's dogs are everywhere," Jack replied, his voice like ice-coated steel as he stepped closer, almost nose to nose with Rat. "No time for questions. Where's the data?"
Rat swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously, as if trying to swallow something bitter. With shaking hands, he extended the briefcase. "It's all in here… Records of Carter's illegal deals, money laundering ledgers… and… and the evidence from back then… the one that framed you."
Jack snatched the briefcase roughly, urgency driving his actions. Under the dim light, he flipped through the documents. Rows of numbers, flamboyant signatures, and hastily scribbled notes pierced through Richard's façade of righteousness, exposing the greed and corruption beneath. This was exactly what he needed—his weapon of revenge!
He looked up sharply, locking eyes with Rat, as if trying to see straight into his soul. "Are you sure this is real? No copies? Don't even think about double-crossing me!"
Sweat poured from Rat's forehead, glistening under the faint light like oil on skin. He shook his head violently, desperation flooding his voice.
"I swear to God, it's all true! Carter's paranoid—he doesn't know I've hidden these. I kept them for so long, waiting for the right moment to give them to you! No one else knows!" He practically begged, his words soaked in terror and despair.
Jack narrowed his eyes, scanning Rat's terrified expression for any sign of deception. He knew this rat was cunning, likely holding something back—but there was no time to dig deeper. Richard could discover the betrayal at any second. His window was closing fast.
He snapped the briefcase shut and tucked it inside his coat. "Remember our deal. When this is over, I'll give you enough to disappear forever. But if you leak a word, if you betray me…" His voice dropped lower, darker, like a curse from the abyss. "I will make sure your end is worse than mine."
Rat nodded furiously, bowing his head in frantic agreement. "I won't! I swear! I just want to get away from all this! I just want to live in peace!"
Suddenly, the back door creaked open again. Several burly men in black suits stepped out, eyes sharp and predatory, scanning the area like trained hounds on the hunt.
"Rat! What the hell are you doing? Mr. Carter wants you!" One of them barked, his voice booming like thunder, shattering the midnight silence.
Rat's face turned deathly white. His entire body trembled uncontrollably. He knew—his time was up. Richard had run out of patience. His betrayal had been discovered.
"Go!" Jack hissed, shoving Rat toward the men before turning and sprinting down the street. Using his intimate knowledge of the terrain and years of survival instincts honed on the streets, he vanished into the maze of alleys and crowds like a ghost.
He knew Richard's men wouldn't stop chasing him. A deadly game of cat and mouse was about to begin. But none of that mattered now.
In his arms, he carried the key evidence against Richard—the spark that would ignite his revenge, the leverage that would bring him back to the top. He had sacrificed too much for this moment.
Clutching the briefcase tightly, he ran through the icy night air, feeling the fire of vengeance burn hotter than ever in his chest. It drove away the cold, gave him strength, guided his path forward.
He swore—Richard would pay. Every single person who had betrayed and destroyed him would be sent to hell, one by one.
Revenge had only just begun.