Page 13 of Emperor of Corruption
The internet paints them as rivals who tolerate each other for the sake of common decency, but try to screw each other over in various ways.
That might be true, but it doesn’t explain how…comfortablethey looked, chatting at the gala. Silas’ only nervous tick was the way he twisted his signet ring around—
The ring. I didn’t get a close look at his signet ring, but Killian had one in his desk drawer. One that had an eye painted on it.
I search upsignet ring with an eyenext, and get a bunch of useless links to Etsy shops and jewelry stores. It’s only when I scroll through the fourth page of available results that I find something moderately interesting.
It’s a Reddit post—one dated from last week. It’s titledThe Illuminati Is Real.
I nearly roll my eyes and disregard it. There are plenty of paranoid conspiracy theorists peddling ridiculous ideas, but as I go to scroll past, my eyes catch on the second line.Every industry leader is a part of it.
Killian is a leader in the pharmaceutical industry. My research on him also tells me he has controlling stakes in some oil drilling operations, and import/export businesses.
The post is probably bullshit, but something compels me to click on it anyways.
It details a complex conspiracy involving worldandindustry leaders—a few Presidents and Prime Ministers are listed, but also somewell-known individuals. Moguls of luxury imports. Major real estate developers. The former CEO of the largest hedge fund in the world.
Killian isn’t listed, neither is Silas, but another thing catches my eyes;you can tell who they are by the symbols they wear.
Is the illuminati real? I highly doubt it.
Is it possible that a secret society comparable to it exists? It’s not onlypossible,it’splausible.
This feels like a long shot, though. I write down the username of the person who made the post in my notebook, tuck it into my desk drawer, and decide to leave it for future contemplation. It’s probably nothing… but that investigative itch is back. My spidey senses are telling me to dig.
So that’s what I do. I digest every piece of media on Killian King and Silas Cornell that I can get my hands on. Nothing links them, but they’re both phenomenally powerful and well connected, and I make notes on anything that seems even moderately substantial.
I’ve scratched the surface of an intricate puzzle here—and I won’t stop until I’ve put the whole thing together.
By the time it’s actually morning, I’ve downed four cups of coffee, which is enough to give me the motivation to go into work. Icouldcall in sick, Iwantto call in sick, but I can’t let Killian win. I can’t let him negatively impact my work life—he doesn’t deserve that power over me.
I still have to admit that I look like a zombie when I head into the office. I barely settle at my desk before my PA pokes her head into myoffice and relays that Sarah wants to see me. Probably to assign my next article.
I heave a sigh and drag my ass across the floor, over to Sarah’s much larger and better decorated office.
“Ah, there you are,” my boss says the moment she sees me. “Come on in. How was the gala last night?”
Memories of Killian forcing his cock down my throat and spanking me until I sobbed nearly make me flinch. “Fine.”
“Fine?” Sarah echoes. “That’s all?”
“Nothing notable happened.” A complete lie, but I can’t say anything else without risking my neck. “I knocked out the article on Killian after. It should be in your inbox.”
“Yes, that’s what I wanted to see you about.” Sarah gestures for me to take a seat in the armchair across from her, and I gracelessly plop down on it. “Killian’s secretary called me this morning, just after I was done reading your article—great work on that, by the way.”
My stomach sinks. The last time Killian’s secretary called for something, I was forced into an ordeal I never want to repeat. He let me go, though. Could he have changed his mind about ruining my life? Am I here to get fired and blacklisted, after all?
Before my mind can spiral down all the worst-case scenarios imaginable, Sarah says something that’s even more terrible than what my imagination could have conjured.
“Killian must’ve been terrifically impressed with you, because he requested that your article be turned into a full profile. Five-page spread in our December edition.”
A profile takes much more work than an article. Multiple interviews with the subject, lots of time spent in their vicinity. It goes much further in depth than what a mere article ever could, and is meant to highlight multiple parts of a subject’s life—personal, business, past.
No. I promised myself I’d never be in a room with that disgusting man again. Nofuckingway am I doingmultipleinterviews with him.
“I don’t think I’m the right candidate for that,” I manage to say, barely keeping the tremble from my voice.
Sarah frowns. “What do you mean? You’re perfectly positioned. He knows you, and he must like you—”
