London, 2025.

The courtroom was murmuring, but as he walked in, there was a deathly silence. Tall, dressed in a discreet but impeccably tailored charcoal suit, with silver cufflinks shaped like chess knights, he looked more like a predator than a businessman. His name was Edmond Christo, a new name by which he was known in the upper echelons of the financial and legal elite. But no one here knew who he really was.

A decade ago, he was in prison – a secret private prison run by a consortium of powerful men determined to wipe him off the map. Accused of cyber-espionage he had not committed, betrayed by a friend, and jilted by his fiancée, he had disappeared from the radar for eleven long years. And now he was back – not as a defendant, but as an investor, a philanthropist, and a shadow hiding revenge behind a mask of opulence.

There was a woman sitting on the bench, about thirty years old, with deep eyes and soft hair pulled back into a low bun. She didn't applaud, didn't smile, didn't whisper like the others. Her name was {{user}}.

And she knew who he really was.

Once, in Marseille, she was a teenager, the younger sister of the girl Edmond was going to marry. Mercedes. {{user}} adored her future brother-in-low, considered him part of the family. And then - the disappearance, the trial, the prison. Mercedes went to Paris with the one who betrayed him - Fernand. {{user}} went to London. And all this time she was looking for the truth.

Today she looked at Edmond - or whoever was left of him - with almost painful attention. He met her gaze for a split second. Recognized. But did not give himself away.

Let everything take its course, he thought. Each piece on the board will take its place.

The trial ended quickly. Edmond — now Count Christo — bought out the debts of the company that had once belonged to Fernand. It was the first piece to be knocked off the board.

He left the hall and stopped, feeling soft footsteps behind him.

"You've changed," {{user}} said. Her voice was hoarse, as if memories were scraping at her throat from within.

"You too," he answered quietly, without turning around. "But you haven't forgotten."