"Ashes of Crestfall: The Rise of Aaron San Agustin"

Morning light spilled across the sprawling glass windows of Aaron's penthouse, illuminating silent teammates sprawled on plush couches and carpeted floors. Empty whiskey bottles lined the coffee table, leftover delicacies half-eaten beside holstered sidearms.

Aaron stood by the penthouse window, dawn streaking the Velmont skyline with pale gold. The city's early hum rose faintly beneath him. His phone buzzed in his pocket:

BITX Emergency Shareholder Assembly – Skyveil Tower. Omega Clearance Required.

He exhaled, eyes darkening. Behind him, Bravo stirred awake on the leather couch, rubbing his temples.

"Early meeting, Captain?" Bravo asked with a groggy grin.

"BITX shareholders," Aaron replied calmly, slipping his watch onto his wrist.

Bravo whistled. "Crypto gods, huh?"

"Shadows, not gods," Aaron corrected, buttoning his black shirt. His gaze stayed distant, as if seeing an entire empire beyond the window's glass. "Watch the team. I'll handle this alone."

"You sure?" Bravo sat straighter, voice dropping its humor.

Aaron's cold eyes met his. "I've walked darker roads alone."

Minutes later, the Skyveil Tower loomed overhead, its mirrored facade reflecting the rising sun. In the lobby, a woman approached with confident steps. Mid-thirties, ash-blonde hair cut sharply to her chin, tailored black suit outlining a honed grace.

"Mr. San Agustin?" she asked, voice brisk yet respectful.

"Yes," Aaron replied, studying her eyes.

"Maxeen Rowe, BITX Shadow Holdings." She extended her hand.

"Shadow Holdings?" Aaron echoed, his tone unreadable as he shook her hand.

"Please, follow me," she instructed. They walked side by side, two silent wolves among men in suits.

Inside the private elevator, silence pressed close. Aaron watched her neutral reflection in the chrome.

"You carry yourself like a soldier," she noted without looking at him.

"Observation skills or dossier read?" Aaron asked evenly.

"Both," she replied with a faint smile, her eyes flicking to meet his before returning to the elevator's numbers counting upward.

Aaron said nothing more. Shadows didn't need words.

At the summit floor, floor-to-ceiling windows framed Velmont's sprawling expanse. Inside, men and women sat around an obsidian conference table. Holograms flickered overhead: market graphs, code chains, global currency flows, and blurred classified satellite imagery.

Maxeen gestured to an empty seat beside her. "Your holdings triggered Omega protocol. You're now a minority shareholder with voting rights."

Aaron remained standing, scanning the room with unblinking precision. "What is BITX really funding?" he asked flatly.

A grey-haired man across the table spoke, voice gravelly. "Global intelligence networks. Proxy operations. Black ops. Your tokens hold foundational signatures embedded before mass minting."

Aaron's gaze narrowed as he leaned back against the glass wall, silent as ice, calculating each face before him.

Maxeen's eyes softened minutely as she slid a document across the table to him. "Your holdings are valued at 134 billion USD," she said quietly.

Aaron's brow twitched. "Dormant for years," he murmured under his breath.

Another investor in a navy suit leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Sell your tokens. Ten times market value. Transferable to any global account you choose."

"Why?" Aaron asked flatly.

"Control and deniability," Maxeen replied, her voice unwavering. "Your mint-era tokens remain untraceable. They're… pure."

Aaron's gaze darkened further. Shadows within shadows. Always shadows. He tapped his finger against his thigh, silent for a long moment.

Finally, Maxeen spoke, her tone almost gentle. "What's your price?"

Aaron lifted his eyes, gaze obsidian and merciless. "Covert clearance for Africa. Procurement support for military-grade equipment. Silent facilitation for commercial acquisitions without audits or political bottlenecks."

She regarded him with glacial calm, her storm-grey eyes flickering with intrigue. "Building an empire?" she asked softly.

He stared back, unblinking. "A kingdom of shadows," he replied, each syllable forged in iron resolve.

Silence stretched across the obsidian table. The holograms continued to flicker, casting ghostly codes across their faces.

Finally, Maxeen spoke, her voice a soft blade. "Agreed."

Aaron studied her, eyes steel-edged. "No legal bindings?"

"BITX agreements are sealed by shadows, not courts," she said, her lips curling into a small, dangerous smile.

Aaron's phone vibrated softly. Funds Received: 13.4 Trillion USD Equivalent. The figure pulsed cold blue on his screen. His jaw tightened imperceptibly as he slipped the device back into his pocket.

Maxeen extended her hand, her gaze unwavering. "Welcome to the council, Mr. San Agustin."

Aaron shook her hand firmly, feeling the faint tremor in her fingers despite her iron composure. "This is only the beginning," he murmured.