Lucas awoke to the soft chime of ATHENA.
ATHENA:
"Good morning, Lucas. Eliza Ning's overnight livestream has gone viral. Public sentiment is overwhelmingly negative. Julius is currently trending for his commentary."
Lucas rubbed his eyes and sat up, the weight of the previous day's revelations still heavy on his shoulders. He reached for his phone, scrolling through the barrage of notifications. Eliza's tear-streaked face dominated the screen, her voice cracking as she attempted to justify her actions.
He sighed, tossing the phone aside.
The door to his suite opened, and Julius strolled in, a triumphant grin on his face.
"Morning, sunshine," Julius said, holding up a tablet. "Eliza's meltdown is the gift that keeps on giving. She's blaming everyone but herself. It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion."
Lucas shook his head. "Let her dig her own grave."
Julius chuckled. "Already halfway there."
Just then, Rhea entered, impeccably dressed and holding a tray with breakfast.
"Good morning," she said, placing the tray on the table. "Your schedule for today includes a meeting with the legal team regarding the trust and a briefing on the latest media developments."
Lucas nodded, taking a sip of the coffee Rhea handed him.
"Anything else I should be aware of?" he asked.
Rhea hesitated for a moment before replying.
"Your stepmother has made a public statement, aligning herself with Eliza. She's attempting to portray you as the antagonist in this narrative."
Lucas's expression hardened.
"Of course she is," he muttered. "She always did know how to pick her battles."
Julius leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"She's trying to stay relevant," he said. "But aligning with Eliza? That's a sinking ship."
Lucas stood, determination in his eyes.
He didn't need more chaos—he needed control. And that started with understanding every clause of the legacy he'd inherited.
The penthouse door chimed at precisely 8:59 AM.
Rhea opened it with her signature efficiency, nodding the legal team inside.
Three figures entered. All dressed in bespoke gray suits. One older man—stoic, silver-haired, and silent. One woman—sharp-eyed, tablet in hand, her heels quiet but lethal. And the youngest, a man no older than thirty with wire-frame glasses and the kind of expression that said he could read a 300-page document and find a missing comma in under a minute.
They walked like they knew they carried secrets.
Lucas gestured toward the conference space with a flick of his wrist. "Let's do this."
The elder lawyer—Mr. Quinton Yew—opened a polished leather case and slid out a black folder. The same one Cyrus had prepared months before his death.
"Mr. Pan," he began, voice calm, "this document outlines the structure of the primary trust, known internally as the Han Continuity Protocol. As per Mr. Han's wishes, it was designed with multi-phase contingencies in case of... accelerated inheritance."
Lucas's jaw tensed at the phrasing. "You mean his death."
Quinton offered a polite nod. "Yes."
The sharp-eyed woman—Miss Lin—pulled up a digital copy on her tablet and mirrored it to the display screen behind them.
"Your immediate assets include 31% controlling interest in Han Global, 22% in Blackwell Energy, and several shell holdings, personal patents, and silent ventures valued at just over $3.4 billion USD. The remainder is tied in phased trusts with activation timelines dependent on your decision-making and three core performance benchmarks."
"Three tests," Lucas said flatly, already guessing.
"Correct," said the young lawyer, Kai Cheng. "The first is a corporate initiative. You're required to lead a high-impact turnaround project—results measurable within 120 days."
Lucas crossed his arms. "The second?"
"A strategic alliance of significant global weight. That can be political, industrial, or familial—Mr. Han did not define it beyond 'influence acquisition,'" Lin replied.
"And the third?" Lucas asked, his voice level.
Quinton flipped a page.
"Legacy succession. This doesn't mean children, but rather a public articulation and institutional reinforcement of your vision for the Han name. A legacy project. Personal and scalable."
Lucas leaned back slightly, digesting.
ATHENA spoke quietly in his ear."All three tracks are underway. You are currently ahead of projected pacing. Recommendation: maintain discretion and delegate nothing related to clause three."
Lucas let out a slow breath.
"Any fine print that screws me?"
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Only if you quit. If you abandon the process, all shares revert to dormant trust status until your own death. You keep the title, not the power."
Rhea gave him a look across the table.
"I assume quitting isn't on the table?"
Lucas gave her the faintest smile.
"I'm just getting started."
Lucas's voice was even, but the energy behind it had shifted—he wasn't a man under pressure. He was a man building momentum.
He leaned forward, fingers steepled.
"The basketball team I acquired—does that count toward the first test? High-impact turnaround."
Quinton Yew didn't blink. "Yes. If it produces both cultural and fiscal return. Mr. Han believed in media as a proving ground."
Miss Lin tapped her tablet. "Your acquisition qualifies. You're already showing early traction in brand alignment, market expansion, and revenue projection. The challenge is sustaining that arc."
"How long until I'm past the threshold?" Lucas asked.
Kai pulled up a real-time graph on the screen. "You need a 12% increase in valuation within 90 days, a 20% social engagement lift, and internal culture reformation—that part's subjective, but PR and reputation scoring will help gauge it."
ATHENA's voice chimed softly in Lucas's ear."As of this morning, you are 4.3% into target growth. Engagement has increased 9.7%. Brand positivity index is climbing. Projected success likelihood for Clause One: 83.2% if current pace is maintained."
Lucas nodded slightly. "Good."
Quinton continued. "There are bonus modifiers—should you secure a major sponsor or media deal, that could fulfill benchmarks faster."
Lucas's eyes narrowed. "What about Clause Two? Strategic alliance?"
Lin didn't look up. "Too early to measure."
Lucas looked at Rhea, who met his gaze without blinking.
"We're working on it."
He turned to the lawyers. "So, I'm ahead in one category, treading water in the second, and the third's on me to define?"
"Exactly," Kai replied. "Clause Three is personal. There's no scorecard for vision until it's already carved into the wall."
Lucas exhaled, straightened, and stood. His breakfast was cold now, but the fire in his chest was steady.
"Send over all the metrics. I want dashboards running by department. Weekly updates."
Quinton nodded.
"Of course."
ATHENA added,"Shall I prepare a legacy plan matrix based on projected growth, thematic alignment, and family historical patterns?"
Lucas almost smiled.
"Yeah. Let's see what a Han looks like in his own words."