Chapter 425: Don’t worry Nephew!!!

Midnight.

Pearl Villa was quiet.

Most of the lights had already been turned off, and the sea breeze moved gently through the open balcony doors.

Inside the bedroom, Chloe slept peacefully beneath the blanket.

Miles stood outside on the balcony with his phone in one hand.

His expression had changed the moment Adam started speaking.

"There is a dying pattern?"

Adam’s voice came through the call.

"Yes."

He sounded tired, but there was something else underneath it.

Excitement.

The kind that came when an investigator finally found the missing piece.

"I’ve been analyzing the records for almost two weeks."

Adam continued.

"Tonight, I finally got a breakthrough."

Miles rested one hand against the railing.

"What exactly is the pattern?"

Adam paused.

"Roughly every seventy-five days..."

"...a soldier dies."

Miles frowned.

"What?"

"Sometimes it’s an accident."

"Sometimes a border clash."

"Sometimes illness."

"A heart attack."

"A vehicle incident."

"Training accidents."

"Different causes every time."

Adam’s voice became more serious.

"But almost every seventy-five days, a relatively young soldier is declared dead."

Miles’ face slowly hardened.

"How long?"

"At least a decade."

Silence.

Miles stared into the darkness beyond Pearl Villa.

"A decade?"

"Possibly longer."

Adam continued,

"Your people didn’t catch it because they were comparing funeral records."

"The funeral dates are inconsistent."

Miles immediately understood.

"They delay them."

"Exactly."

Adam sounded impressed.

"Some funerals happen immediately."

"Some bodies are supposedly recovered days later."

"Sometimes the family ceremony is delayed."

"So if you line up the funerals..."

"Nothing."

Miles’ eyes narrowed.

"But if you use the official dates of death..."

"The pattern appears."

Adam continued.

"And there’s more."

Miles waited.

"Every one of them came from the same battalion."

Miles straightened.

"No way."

"Who’s commanding it?"

Adam didn’t hesitate.

"Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Vane."

Miles repeated the name slowly.

"Marcus Vane..."

Nothing.

No memory.

No recognition.

"I’ve never heard of him."

"Not surprising."

Adam continued,

"His battalion is primarily stationed in the eastern territories."

"You spent most of your military coordination around the Northern Frontier."

"The Seventeenth Battalion especially."

Miles nodded slowly.

Then something clicked.

"But I recognized some of those men."

Adam became quiet.

"I saw them at a Northern Provincial Army camp."

"You’re right."

Adam replied.

"They were transferred there temporarily."

Miles frowned.

"How many?"

"Nearly half the soldiers who later became ’dead’ passed through other units before their deaths."

Miles’ expression darkened.

"So they’re selecting them."

"That’s what it looks like."

Adam continued,

"Someone studies their backgrounds."

"Families."

"Financial situations."

"Whether their disappearance would create questions."

"Then they’re moved around."

Miles looked down at the lights below.

"And eventually..."

"They die."

"On paper."

Adam finished the sentence.

Miles stayed silent.

The scale of it was beginning to take shape.

Not one fake death.

Not several.

A system.

A pipeline.

"This is a massive scandal."

Miles finally said.

"How has nobody discovered it?"

Adam sighed.

"Because nobody was looking for soldiers who were already declared dead."

"And like you said..."

"Someone very high up is involved."

Miles’ fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

"Marcus Vane."

Adam heard the name again.

"I’ll have his full file soon."

Miles continued,

"I want everything."

"Career."

"Promotions."

"Commanding officers."

"Political connections."

"Family."

"Money."

Adam chuckled faintly.

"I already expected that."

Then his tone changed.

"I have a friend inside Vane’s battalion."

Miles immediately frowned.

"What did you do?"

"I asked him to keep his eyes open."

"Adam."

"Relax."

"Don’t do anything rash."

Adam laughed.

"Miles, I know what I’m doing."

"You remember I was Special Forces before Secret Service, right?"

Miles sighed.

Adam continued proudly,

"I even saved you once."

"You were still a teenager."

"Yes, yes."

Miles rubbed his forehead.

"Uncle Adam."

Adam started laughing.

Miles smiled despite himself.

"Please don’t do anything that gets you hurt."

"Keep Charles in the loop."

Adam replied,

"Yes, yes, Nephew Miles."

Both started laughing quietly.

From inside the room...

"Hmm..."

Chloe moved beneath the blanket.

Miles immediately lowered his voice.

"Alright."

"Good night."

"Take care, Adam."

Adam chuckled.

"Don’t worry."

"Good night, General."

The call ended.

Miles remained on the balcony for another few seconds.

He looked at Marcus Vane’s name in the notes on his phone.

Something about this felt wrong.

Much bigger than the WEB remnants.

Much closer to home.

But eventually...

Miles put the phone away.

Then returned inside.

...

Morning.

Miles stood in front of the mirror.

And he wasn’t dressed casually.

A formal Haven military uniform fit perfectly across his shoulders.

General insignia.

Decorations.

Dark polished shoes.

Every detail had been prepared according to his Honorary General rank.

Chloe stood directly in front of him, carefully adjusting his collar.

"There."

She stepped back.

"It fits you perfectly."

Miles looked at his reflection.

"Yeah."

Then he sighed.

"I never thought I’d wear a General’s uniform."

Chloe looked him up and down.

Miles noticed.

"What?"

She remained silent.

"Chloe?"

She tilted her head.

"It looks..."

Miles waited.

"Hmm?"

Chloe smiled.

"Very authoritative."

She looked again.

"Very cool."

Miles laughed.

"That’s all?"

"Don’t get greedy."

He reached toward the buttons.

"It fits."

"Let me take it off."

"Not yet."

Miles looked toward her.

Chloe was already pulling out her phone.

"Picture."

Miles sighed.

"Really?"

"Yes."

He smiled and walked toward her.

Chloe immediately stepped backward.

"What?"

Miles leaned closer.

"Isn’t the honeymoon over?"

Her face immediately changed.

"Hehe..."

"Stop."

"One picture."

Miles smiled.

"You’re blushing."

"I’m not."

Chloe quickly lifted the phone.

"Stand there."

Miles obeyed.

She took one picture.

Then another.

Then another.

Miles raised an eyebrow.

"You said one."

"I changed my mind."

He laughed.

Chloe finally checked the time.

"Oh."

"What?"

"Sister Monica is waiting downstairs."

Miles immediately stepped aside.

"Then don’t make her wait."

Chloe nodded.

"Right."

She took one final photo.

Then quickly ran toward the door.

Miles shook his head.

...

Downstairs...

Monica was already waiting.

Chloe came down slightly faster than necessary.

Monica looked toward her.

Then smiled.

"What’s with the blush?"

Chloe stopped.

"Nothing."

Monica raised an eyebrow.

Chloe looked away.

"He is just a tease."

Monica chuckled.

"I can’t imagine."

Chloe stared.

"Sister."

Monica smiled innocently.

They walked outside together.

A car was already waiting.

Both entered.

As the vehicle left Pearl Villa...

Chloe suddenly looked toward Monica.

"By the way..."

Monica became cautious.

"What?"

"I heard your boyfriend is in the city."

Monica slowly turned toward her.

"What else did Boss say?"

Chloe made a face.

"Nothing."

"He won’t tell me details."

Monica sighed.

"Good."

Chloe moved closer.

"So?"

Monica looked outside.

"He’s a celebrity."

Chloe’s eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Do I know him?"

"Maybe."

Monica tried to sound casual.

"He’s a stand-up comedian."

Chloe stared for several seconds.

Then...

"Oh."

Monica already knew.

Chloe smiled.

"The one you were watching on the living room television?"

Monica looked away.

"Yes."

Chloe’s expression immediately became mischievous.

"Sister..."

"No."

"You don’t even know what I’m asking."

"I know."

Chloe leaned closer.

"Please tell me the story."

"There isn’t much of a story."

"That means there is definitely a story."

Monica sighed.

Then looked toward her.

"Do you want to meet him?"

Chloe’s eyes brightened.

"Yes."

"Is he coming to see you?"

Monica nodded.

"Reaper Entertainment acquired his management."

"He’ll be at Soul Tower today to meet the new management team."

Chloe stared.

"He’s coming to your office?"

"Yes."

Chloe smiled widely.

"Office romance drama."

"Hey."

Monica turned toward her.

"Don’t imagine things."

Chloe tried to control her smile.

"Sorry."

"I can’t help imagining."

Monica stared.

Chloe suddenly leaned closer.

"Are you blushing?"

"I’m not."

"Sister..."

Monica sighed.

"I wonder who is more mischievous."

"You..."

She pointed toward Chloe.

"Or Boss."

Chloe laughed.

"Hehe."

The car continued toward Soul Tower.

...

Back at Pearl Villa...

Timothy sat comfortably in the living room.

The television played a promotional announcement.

Miles had already changed out of the military uniform and now sat nearby with a cup of coffee.

The screen changed.

A bright Sterling Foundation logo appeared.

Then...

STERLING FOUNDATION PRESENTS

THE STERLING LAUNCHPAD

A narrator began speaking.

"The Sterling Launchpad began this year as a seven-day entrepreneurship and innovation program."

Footage showed large auditoriums being prepared in Star Harbor City Center.

Students.

Young entrepreneurs.

Startup teams.

Mentors.

"The event will welcome hundreds of individuals and teams from across the Republic of Haven."

"Participants will attend learning sessions hosted by some of the country’s most respected business leaders, strategists, design thinkers, authors and professors from leading universities."

The visuals changed again.

Workshops.

Group activities.

Prototype displays.

Pitching spaces.

"Throughout the week, participants will take part in mentorship programs, business simulations, product workshops and collaborative sessions."

"The seven-day program will conclude with the Sterling Launchpad Pitching Event."

"Selected entrepreneurs will present their ideas before investors, industry experts and the Sterling Foundation."

The narrator continued,

"But Sterling Launchpad is more than a competition."

"It is a learning platform."

"An opportunity for young minds to develop ideas, meet mentors and understand what it takes to turn a vision into reality."

The screen displayed the date.

"The event begins next Monday."

"Selected pitches and sessions will also be released through Sterling Business Media."

"Stay tuned."

The advertisement ended.

Miles smiled.

Timothy remained looking at the screen.

Then he nodded slowly.

"That’s a good initiative."

Miles looked toward him.

Timothy smiled.

"I’m proud of you."

Miles shook his head.

"It’s a team effort."

"Most things are."

Timothy looked thoughtful.

Then suddenly asked,

"Can I participate?"

Miles stared.

"Hun?"

Timothy looked toward him.

"As a mentor."

Miles’ expression immediately changed.

"Of course."

Timothy smiled.

Miles continued,

"Who wouldn’t want to learn from a legendary businessman?"

Timothy gave him a look.

"Don’t flatter me."

"I’m serious."

Miles smiled.

"You built an empire before most of the people there were born."

Timothy laughed.

"That makes me sound ancient."

Miles shrugged.

"You are Grandpa."

Timothy stared.

Miles laughed.

Then added,

"I’ll ask Chloe to include you."

Timothy nodded.

"Thank you."

He looked toward the Sterling Launchpad advertisement again.

For the first time in years...

Timothy felt genuinely excited about speaking to young entrepreneurs.

...

Later that morning.

Sterling Security Base.

Miles arrived dressed normally.

His mood was good.

Relaxed.

Three weeks with Chloe had changed something.

The usual tiredness around his eyes had disappeared.

His face looked lighter.

Almost younger.

He walked through the main entrance.

A few agents noticed immediately.

"Good morning, Boss."

Miles smiled.

"Morning."

Another greeted him.

He nodded.

Then...

He entered the operations section.

Something felt wrong.

The War Room was active.

Far too active for an ordinary morning.

Agents stood near terminals.

Several screens displayed reports.

People were speaking quietly.

Not the usual controlled operational noise.

This was different.

Heavy.

Miles slowed.

Charles stood near the central table.

His head was lowered.

Miles looked around.

Several agents nearby avoided his eyes.

His smile disappeared.

"What’s wrong?"

Charles looked up.

"Good morning, Boss."

Miles’ expression changed completely.

"Charles."

Silence.

"What is it?"

Charles looked down again.

Miles turned toward the nearby agents.

They did the same.

Heads lowered.

No one spoke.

Miles’ voice became firmer.

"I asked..."

"What’s wrong?"

Charles finally looked at him.

His face said enough before his mouth did.

"Boss..."

He swallowed.

"We lost Adam."

Miles stopped breathing for a moment.

"What?"

Charles’ voice became quieter.

"Adam was found dead in his apartment this morning."

The room disappeared.

Not literally.

But for Miles...

Everything around him suddenly became distant.

The screens.

The agents.

The tables.

The lights.

Charles’ voice continued.

But it sounded far away.

Dead.

Apartment.

Morning.

Miles stood completely still.

Less than twelve hours ago...

Adam had been laughing.

Talking to him

Boasting about saving him when he was younger.

Telling him not to worry.

Miles heard the words from last night again.

Don’t worry.

His chest tightened.

"Boss?"

Nothing.

"Boss."

Charles stepped closer.

Miles blinked.

The room returned.

He breathed in sharply.

Then again.

Charles watched him carefully.

"You alright?"

Miles looked toward him.

"How..."

His voice failed.

He swallowed.

"How can this happen?"

No one answered.

Miles looked around the War Room as if someone there could tell him the last conversation hadn’t actually happened.

"I was talking to him last night."

His breathing grew heavier.

"He was fine."

"He was..."

Miles’ hand went to his head.

"He was laughing."

Silence.

Not one agent moved.

Miles lowered his hand.

For a few seconds...

His face showed nothing.

Then he looked up.

Something had changed in his eyes.

The shock was still there.

But beneath it...

Something darker was beginning to surface.

"How did he die?"

Charles hesitated.

Then answered.

"Shot."

Miles’ jaw tightened.

Charles looked down.

"Three times."

Miles closed his eyes.

Once.

Three bullets.

Adam alone inside his apartment.

Miles’ fingers slowly curled into fists.

When he opened his eyes again...

There was no confusion left.

Only rage.

"What do we have?"

Charles replied carefully,

"Not much."

"The Secret Service has taken control of the scene."

"They’ve already started their own investigation."

He paused.

"And if Adam spoke to you last night..."

"They’ll eventually contact you."

Miles stared at the central screen.

"Fine."

Charles waited.

Miles’ voice became cold.

"Let them."

Then he looked toward Charles.

"We investigate separately."

"Quietly."

"Do not let them know."

Charles nodded.

"Understood."

"I’ll handle the Secret Service when they come."

Miles stepped toward the table.

His eyes moved across the reports.

Then he said one name.

"Lieutenant Colonel Marcus Vane."

Charles looked up.

Miles continued,

"Tag him."

"Everything."

"Every movement."

"Every call."

"Every person close to him."

Charles nodded.

Miles’ voice became lower.

"Find out where Adam went after our call."

"Who knew he was investigating."

"Who entered that building."

"Who left."

His hand pressed against the table.

The knuckles had turned white.

Charles watched him.

The entire War Room had gone silent.

Miles looked toward Adam’s photograph displayed on one of the screens.

A man smiling in an old Special Forces uniform.

For several seconds...

Nobody dared speak.

Then Miles said quietly,

"I told him not to do anything reckless."

His voice cracked slightly.

Only once.

Then disappeared.

The grief hardened.

His eyes became cold.

"I will personally kill anyone involved in Adam’s death."

Charles said nothing.

No one corrected him.

No one tried to calm him.

Because everyone in that room understood one thing.

This was no longer an investigation to Miles.

Someone had murdered a man who once saved his life.

Someone who had laughed with him only hours earlier.

And whoever had ordered those three bullets...

Had just made themselves personal to Ghost.

To be continued...