The Artist

King’s amber-hued eyes were dazzling, yet they lacked life. Kane was determined, but something about King’s gaze unsettled him. The man in front of him—King—had agreed to his request and ordered his subordinates to leave without him. 

Now alone, Kane focused on the man seated beside him—the same seat Stan had occupied earlier. He had also asked Stan to leave once King’s subordinates had gone. 

“How was it?” Kane asked, twirling his wine glass without looking at King. 

“What?” King’s tone was playful and mischievous, unlike his usual cold and stoic demeanor. 

Kane turned to face him, once again struck by his eyes. He was furious but knew better than to lash out. “How does it feel, enjoying a company you stole and living with the hideous things you’ve done?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. His anger had never faded after all these years, and his goal remained unchanged—he wanted the man before him to suffer. 

But King didn’t react. He said nothing. What made it even more infuriating was his smirk. He simply smirked at Kane and sipped his wine as if the conversation didn’t concern him. 

Kane laughed dryly, catching King’s attention. 

“There’s an auction later,” Kane informed him, rising to his feet. “Just one item. It’s the main event.” 

“Cabecilla.” 

Kane left him at the table. 

That single word made King freeze. He continued sipping his wine, deep in thought, until the main event began. 

The auction featured the Black Diamond painting. People gaped at it, but King wasn’t naive—this wasn’t just an auction. It was a threat. 

As the bids climbed higher, Kane’s smile grew more radiant, something King could see even from his seat. 

Cabecilla—that was what they called him. 

A leader of those who committed wrongdoing or misconduct. 

King chuckled softly, leaning back in his leather seat. He knew exactly what Kane wanted. And he was willing to give it to him. 

He raised his paddle. “Three hundred fifty million pesos.” 

The room fell silent. Everyone gasped. No one dared to bid higher. That amount matched the value of an actual black diamond. How could a painting be worth as much as a real gemstone? The thought echoed in everyone’s minds. This would surely dominate the headlines tomorrow. 

Then, Kane flashed a victorious smile at King, who simply raised his glass in a silent toast. 

King’s men exchanged shocked and confused glances. Their boss’s impulsive action had caught them off guard. That painting had to hold enormous significance for him to react this way. 

Meanwhile, Kane continued to stare at King. He was pleased that King recognized the threat. He was a storm in motion, and his only goal was to bring King down and reclaim what was his—everything King had. In his eyes, King was nothing more than a thief… and a murderer. 

'Now watch me. This is the art of revenge.'

“Congratulations, Kane. You got your way again,” Stan remarked, grinning from ear to ear. 

The party carried on. Many congratulated Kane, while the media hounded him for a statement. Investors flooded in, keeping him too occupied to look in King’s direction again. 

He had lost sight of him. 

He didn’t mind—until he felt someone slip something into his pocket. 

He scanned the room but saw no one suspicious. Even Stan was busy conversing with business tycoons. When he was finally alone, sipping his wine, he retrieved the item. It was a piece of paper with a quote. 

"This is your last act. I don’t know how to protect you anymore."

His brow furrowed. Intrigued, his gaze searched the room until it landed on a pair of shoes stopping beside him. 

It was the man who had been with King earlier—his right-hand man. 

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Raze Alconde,” he said, offering a handshake. Kane accepted it with grace. 

“Pleasure to meet you, too.” 

“My boss seems to like your work a lot,” Raze remarked. “I’m an aspiring artist myself. Mind sharing your secret?” His smile was lopsided, his tone friendly. Kane sensed the subtle game at play and responded in kind. 

“No secret. Just hard work.” He even winked. 

Raze actually laughed. “I guess I’ll have to work harder, then.” He was still grinning when he bid Kane farewell. 

“Anyway, I should get back. Nice meeting you, Mr. Vitali. By the way, my boss wants me to tell you to take care.” 

“Nice joke,” Kane muttered with a grimace. 

The night continued with more drinks, conversations with Stan, businessmen, art enthusiasts, and media personnel. When the event finally wrapped up, Kane prepared to head home—until he received a message from an unknown number. 

"Your friends are near death. If you want to save them, heed my order."

His eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t drunk enough to fall for a prank. Those two idiots could handle themselves. 

Instead of panicking, he showed the message to Stan. Stan immediately called Marco and Ven, but neither answered. 

Curiosity turned to concern when another message arrived—an image of his two friends, bloodied and bound to chairs in his own home. 

His heart pounded. His fists clenched. 

He sprinted to his car, ignoring Stan’s calls. His only thought was their safety. His hands trembled with urgency. 

“Kane! Let me come with you,” Stan urged, looking worried. 

Kane refused. “Call the team. Tell them to meet me at my house. We need to corner those bastards and secure the storage.” 

His words were rushed. Stan nodded and did as he was told. 

Kane started the engine. He sped down the road, trying to think rationally. Marco and Ven were fighters. It would take a lot to bring them down. 

Unbeknownst to him, someone was in the backseat. 

“Slow down, Kane…” 

A voice. 

His fear was momentarily replaced with alarm and confusion. 

Instead of slowing down, he floored the gas, pushing the car to its limit. His right hand reached for the hidden compartment where he kept a knife. 

But before he could act, cold metal pressed against the nape of his neck. 

The barrel of a gun. 

“I said… slow down.” 

He had no intention of obeying. 

He prepared to accelerate further when, in the blink of an eye, a cloth was pressed over his mouth. 

The scent was sharp. Chemical. 

His body fought to stay conscious, but darkness swiftly consumed him. 

Raze took the wheel as Kane succumbed to oblivion. 

“Boss, he’s down,” Raze reported over the phone while pulling over. 

He repositioned Kane in the backseat before driving off again. 

“Bring him over.” 

The voice on the other end was unmistakable—King. 

Raze stole a glance at Kane’s unconscious form, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. 

Was this the right move? 

Still, he trusted his boss. 

“Boss… will you be okay?” Raze asked, unable to suppress his concern. He understood the weight of these actions. 

“I will be,” King replied. 

Raze exhaled heavily. He had no choice but to see this through. 

“What about the storage? What do we do about it?” 

King clicked his tongue. “Let them keep it. They can protect it themselves. Just send some of our men in secret for extra security.” 

“Copy that,” Raze responded, shifting gears. 

The road ahead was long. 

And the game had only just begun.