The morning sun filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows of the five-star hotel suite.
I stretched lazily, my arm draped over the soft curve of Layla's waist—my girlfriend of six months and, more importantly, the beloved wife of billionaire Vincent Harlow. She was still asleep, lips slightly parted, completely unaware that last night had been recorded in crystal-clear 4K from four hidden angles.
Beside us, my twin brother Kai stirred. Curled against him was Layla's nineteen-year-old daughter from her first marriage, Sophia—now legally an adult and very enthusiastically participating after a few glasses of "special champagne.
Kai smirked at me over Sophia's bare shoulder. Mission accomplished.
Downstairs in the hotel's private dining room, the real show was about to begin.
Our mother—actually our handler and mastermind of the entire operation—had arranged a "friendly family lunch" between the Harlows and the "new investor family" (us). Vincent Harlow and his business partner Richard Langford believed we were the polite, slightly mysterious sons of a reclusive tycoon. They had no idea we had already claimed their most precious treasures.
We arrived exactly on time.
Vincent and Richard stood to greet us, smiling like everything was normal. Their wives and daughters—Layla, Sophia, Richard's wife Claudia, and his twin college daughters Emma and Olivia—sat opposite us, sipping juice and chatting innocently. All four women occasionally blushed when they met our eyes. They thought last night had been a secret fling. They had no clue they'd been drugged just enough to make them pliable, but not enough to raise suspicion.
Lunch was served. Ten minutes in, the harmless-looking vitamin water took effect. One by one, the four women slumped gently forward, heads resting on their arms as if they'd simply dozed off after a long night.
Vincent frowned. "Are they all right?
"Jet lag," Kai said smoothly. "They'll wake up in an hour or two feeling wonderful."
The staff cleared the table and left without a word—paid very well to forget faces.
As soon as the door closed, Vincent and Richard's fake smiles vanished.
"What the hell is this?" Vincent growled.
I leaned back, swirling my glass. "Relax, gentlemen. We just want to talk business."
Kai tapped his phone and slid it across the table.
Two videos began playing side by side.
Left screen: me with Layla, her legs wrapped around my waist, moaning my name.
Right screen: Kai with Sophia, Claudia, Emma, and Olivia—each scene timestamped from last night.
The color drained from both men's faces.
Vincent lunged for the phone. Kai pulled it back.
"Here's the new deal," I said calmly. "You will transfer the ownership codes to your gaming companies—both of them—into the offshore accounts we provide. In return, these videos stay private, your wives and daughters keep believing last night was a consensual, alcohol-fueled mistake, and everyone walks away with their reputations intact."
Richard's voice cracked. "You're insane. We'll go to the police—"
"And tell them what?" Kai laughed softly. "That your families willingly spent the night with two handsome twenty-year-old investors? Good luck."
Tears welled in Vincent's eyes. "Please… they're innocent in this."
"They're adults," I corrected. "Very enthusiastic adults. But if you prefer, we can wake them up right now and play the footage on the big screen. I'm curious how they'll react."
Both men broke.
Thirty minutes later, the transfers were complete. Two multi-billion-dollar gaming empires now belonged to us.
We left them crying in the private room and took the elevator to the rooftop helipad. Once the doors closed, Kai snapped his fingers—just a habit; the facial prosthetics and colored contacts dissolved in seconds thanks to the nano-dissolvers.
Two identical, devastatingly handsome twenty-year-old faces stared back in the mirrored walls.
"Next stop?" I asked.
Kai grinned. "The Supernatural Council headquarters. Time to collect from the real big fish.
The black Maybach rolled to a silent stop in front of what looked like an ordinary high-end shopping mall in the middle of the city. To the public it was "Luxe Plaza," home to designer boutiques and overpriced coffee. To us, it was Entrance 7 of the Supernatural Council's hidden Pacific headquarters.
We stepped out, dressed in tailored coats that cost more than most people's yearly salary. No one batted an eye. Kai grabbed two cups of instant noodles from the 24-hour supermarket on the ground floor, just for show. The cashier didn't even look up; the barcode scanner had been reprogrammed years ago to ignore our faces.
At the very back of the frozen-food aisle, between the dumplings and the ice-cream, Kai pressed his palm against a nondescript metal panel. A soft click. The entire wall slid aside, revealing a private elevator plated in matte black.
Inside, the doors closed and the descent began, fast enough to make your stomach drop ten floors in three seconds.
Kai pulled out his phone and hit play. The muted moans of last night's conquests filled the small space.
"Not bad, bro," he said with a lazy grin, zooming in on Sophia's flushed face.
I smirked. "You weren't exactly gentle with the twins."
He shrugged, waving a hand. "They're nineteen. Legal and loud. I call that a successful Tuesday."
The elevator pinged. Doors opened into a massive underground atrium carved from polished obsidian and steel. Dozens of agents in black tactical gear moved between holographic screens. Some nodded at us; most were too busy to care.
A young woman with short silver hair jogged up. Early twenties, sharp eyes, Council insignia on her collar.
"Chief's waiting. Excellent work on the Harlow-Langford job, by the way."
We gave her the usual casual nod and kept walking.
The conference room doors parted automatically.
At the head of the long glass table sat the woman everyone simply called "Chief."
Her real name: Valentina Romanov, thirty-six years old, former Russian special forces, current director of Black Operations for the Pacific Rim.
Even seated, her presence filled the room. Raven hair swept into a high bun, crimson lips, and a charcoal pencil skirt that hugged every lethal curve. The white blouse she wore was professional… until you noticed the way it strained against her chest with every breath. Black stockings and six-inch heels completed the look that made rookies forget how to speak.
She didn't glance up from the tablet in her hand. "Sit."
We dropped into the two chairs across from the Ice-Water sibling duo everyone feared.
Left: Seraphine Frost, twenty-four, silver-white hair, eyes like glaciers. Her power literally dropped room temperature five degrees when she was annoyed.
Right: her younger brother Luca, twenty-one, messy teal hair, perpetual half-smirk. Water manipulator. Could pull every drop of moisture from your body before you finished screaming.
Seraphine gave us a cool nod. "Clean execution. Congratulations."
Luca lifted an eyebrow. "You two owe me drinks."
Luca just grinned. "Make it expensive."
I leaned forward. "Chief. Respectfully, why are we turning billionaires into hollow shells and then burning five-star hotels to the ground?"
Valentina finally looked up. Her emerald eyes could freeze blood.
"Classified."
"That's the third time you've said that this month."
She set the tablet down, folded her manicured hands. "And it will be the thirty-third if necessary. Watch the news."
The massive wall screen flickered to life: breaking news, live feed.
The five-star Grand Meridian Hotel, site of this afternoon's "family lunch" was an inferno. Orange flames licked the night sky. Reporters shouted over helicopter noise.
"—authorities confirm the fire started on the top three floors simultaneously. Two survivors found in the parking garage, billionaire Vincent Harlow and tech mogul Richard Langford, were discovered in catatonic states, muttering incoherently about 'demons in beautiful skin'—"
I glanced at Kai. He looked as clueless as I felt.
On screen, two figures blurred past the cameras too fast to track. A wave of frost slammed into the building, extinguishing entire sections of flame in seconds. Water torrents spiraled upward like living serpents, ripping fire apart.
Seraphine and Luca were already gone from their seats.
Valentina's voice cut through the noise. "Frost siblings will contain the situation and extract any latent supernaturals who just awakened. You two are dismissed."
I stood, frustration boiling. "One day you're going to tell us what the endgame is."
She allowed herself the faintest smile. "One day, Ace, you'll beg me not to."
Kai grabbed my shoulder and steered me toward the door. As we stepped back into the corridor he muttered, "Bro, I seriously have no idea what her plan is… but whatever it is, we just became two of the richest twenty-year-olds on the planet. Let's enjoy it while it lasts."
Behind us, the screen showed the last flames dying under Seraphine's ice.
And somewhere above, two broken men stared at the ashes of everything they used to own.