I Fear Nobody

HARDIN'S POV

The moment I stepped out of the elevator and into the marbled lobby of the Richards Corporation, the air hit me like a wall. It was electric, pulsing with anticipation and tension. I could already hear the voices—too many of them—raised and urgent.

Camera flashes lit up the entrance like a battlefield. Reporters clustered in a half-circle, their attention focused on one man standing confidently in front of the podium near the glass doors: Andrew. My cousin.

He was speaking with the ease of someone who thought he had already won.

"...and as you all know, the Richards legacy has always been about elegance, power, and vision," he was saying. "And I—"

The doors hissed open behind me, and suddenly every head turned. A sea of cameras and eyes shifted in unison like wolves scenting new prey. Andrew's words faltered. Just a beat. Barely noticeable. But I caught it.

He saw me.

And the way his jaw clenched told me everything.

The reporters swarmed toward me like a tide. Microphones were shoved in my face, voices overlapped, and chaos unfurled.

"Mr. Richards! Mr. Richards, how does it feel being the new CEO?"

"Hardin! What’s your response to Andrew’s statements earlier this morning?"

"Do you believe you're more qualified than your cousin to lead the company?"

"How does it feel to be recognized as the rightful heir of the Richards Corporation after all these years?"

My lips didn’t move. My gaze didn’t shift. I looked past the flashing bulbs and digital lenses, straight to Andrew.

He was staring at me with something between fury and disbelief. His posture rigid, his face a mask that cracked just enough for me to see the storm behind it.

I didn’t need to say a word. My presence alone had dethroned him.

But I wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t just about public perception—it was a war of narrative, of control. If I spoke now, they’d twist it. Spin it. Feed it to the wolves.

So I said nothing.

I adjusted the cuff of my suit slowly, deliberately, and turned slightly—enough to show them I wasn’t about to grovel for their attention.

"Mr. Richards, are you planning to restructure the executive board now that you’re in charge?"

"Is it true that your cousin Andrew attempted to block your claim to the CEO position?"

My jaw tightened. I took a step forward, just one, and the crowd leaned in as if I were about to speak.

But I didn’t.

Andrew’s face flushed a deep red, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He stepped down from the small podium and moved toward me, trying to force a smile for the cameras, but his eyes were venom.

"Well, look who decided to show up," he muttered under his breath, low enough that only I could hear. "Enjoy the spotlight while it lasts. You won’t keep it for long."

I leaned in slightly, my voice quieter but lethal. "I’m not here for the spotlight. I’m here for the throne you tried to steal."

His mask cracked. His teeth ground together.

Before he could respond, a sudden wave of suits cut between us—my security team.

"Back up. Make way," one of them barked, holding out an arm.

Another stepped forward, blocking the reporters with practiced efficiency. They formed a tight barrier around me, and I let them.

Power wasn’t about screaming the loudest. It was about knowing when to be silent, when to let others feel the weight of your silence.

"Mr. Richards, just one question—"

"Please! The public deserves a statement!"

"Are you planning to merge Richards Corporation with the other subsidiaries?"

I didn’t flinch. I walked through them like I didn’t hear them at all. Like they didn’t exist.

The world knew my name now. They didn’t need a quote.

They’d see the truth in my actions.

Andrew’s voice cut through the chaos one last time, loud and sharp: "You’re a fraud, Hardin! You didn’t earn any of this!"

I stopped. Slowly turned. Met his eyes.

"Then why do you look so afraid?"

He froze. Just for a second. Then stormed out through the side exit, fury radiating off him.

The crowd hushed. I kept walking.

***

The boardroom was a fortress of silence when I entered. Vera was already inside, waiting, arms crossed and eyes sharp.

"That was a circus," she said.

"And yet the lion’s still standing."

She gave me a look. "They’re going to come harder after this. Andrew won’t take that hit lying down."

"Let him come," I said, sinking into the chair at the head of the table. "I’m done playing defense."

She moved toward me, dropping a folder onto the table. "You need to see this. The IT team ran diagnostics on the flash drive again. There was a hidden file. Just one. Encrypted six layers deep. Took hours to uncover."

I opened the folder. Inside was a single printed image.

A blueprint.

And a name.

Project Seraphim: Phase Two.

Under it was a date.

One week from today.

"What is this?" I murmured.

"We don’t know yet. But someone buried it deep. And whoever Elena is... she wanted you to find it."

My mind spun. Phase Two? What the hell was Phase One?

And what did it have to do with my family?

I looked up at Vera. "We need to find Elena. Now."

She nodded. "Already on it."

The door opened again. My CFO stepped in, followed by two other executives. Their faces were tense.

"Hardin," the CFO said, voice clipped. "We need to talk. The stock dropped six points this morning. Investors are spooked by the leadership change."

I didn’t blink. "Then let’s give them a reason not to be. Schedule a shareholders meeting. Tonight."

"Tonight? That’s—"

"—what leaders do," I cut in. "We steady the ship. Remind them who’s at the helm."

The CFO hesitated. Then nodded slowly. "Very well. I’ll notify them."

When the door shut behind them, Vera walked back to me.

"Do you trust them?" she asked.

"Not even a little."

She smiled faintly. "Good. Neither do I."

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the blueprint again.

The press thought today was the climax.

They had no idea it was just the beginning.

There were snakes in my bloodline.

And fire in my veins.

Let them come.

Let them all come.

Because I wasn’t just going to survive this storm.

I was going to set it on fire.

*****

Do you think Hardin would survive all the storms about to come his way?
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