The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and betrayal.
Jonathan Raines lay propped against a stack of pillows, his chest rising in shallow, uneven waves. The machines beside him blinked in rhythm, each beep a countdown. His fingers, once strong enough to sign billion-dollar mergers without tremble, now curled weakly around the hand of his son.
Eli Raines stood beside the bed, dressed in a tailored navy suit. Not a wrinkle in sight. Not a tear either.
Chairman Voss loomed behind him, arms folded, his silver hair catching the sterile light. The man who had once bowed to Jonathan in boardrooms now stared down at him like a relic.
Jonathan's voice was a rasp. "You'll take care of Rainescorp."
Eli nodded. "Of course, Father."
Jonathan's eyes flicked to Voss. "And you'll protect him."
Voss smiled. "He's already protected."
Jonathan's grip tightened. Eli didn't flinch.
"I built that company with my blood," Jonathan whispered. "You were supposed to inherit it. Not dismantle it."
Eli leaned closer. "You built a monument to control. I'm building one to transparency."
Jonathan's heart monitor spiked. Voss stepped forward, placing a hand on Eli's shoulder.
"We've already begun the transition," Voss said. "Your name will be remembered. But your systems are obsolete."
Jonathan's lips parted, but no sound came. His vision blurred. The betrayal wasn't in their words—it was in their timing. They had waited until he couldn't fight back. Until his body was a vault of flesh, ready to be sealed.
Eli pulled his hand away.
Jonathan's final breath was a whisper.
"Then I'll return. And I'll dismantle you both."
The monitor flatlined.
He awoke to the sound of rain.
Not thunderous. Not dramatic. Just a soft patter against glass.
Jonathan sat up in a bed that wasn't his. The sheets were coarse. The room was small. A single window framed the skyline—and there it was.
Rainescorp Bank.
The building stood like a monolith, its glass panels reflecting the storm. He could see the rooftop garden, the executive lounge, the vault level. His vault. His legacy.
He stumbled to the mirror.
The face staring back was younger. Early thirties. Dark hair, tousled. Eyes sharp, but unfamiliar. The jawline was his. The gaze was his. But the skin was new.
He flexed his fingers. No tremble.
He opened the closet. A single suit hung inside—gray, modest, forgettable. He dressed slowly, ritualistically. Each button was a vow.
He sat at the desk and opened the laptop.
Rainescorp's careers page loaded instantly.
Trainee Program – Risk Division
He filled out the application. Name: Jonathan Raines.
He paused. Should he change it?
No. Let them see it. Let them dismiss it. Let them think it coincidence.
He uploaded a blank résumé. No credentials. No history. Just the name.
He clicked submit.
The train ride was quiet.
Jonathan sat near the window, watching the city blur past. He passed the museum that once held his portrait. The café where he'd fired a CFO. The bridge where he'd once stood with Eli, explaining the difference between power and control.
He arrived at Rainescorp's plaza.
The building loomed above him. He stepped inside.
The lobby was colder than he remembered. The marble floors gleamed. The receptionist didn't look up.
"Interview?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Risk Division. Floor 17. Wait in the lounge."
He took the elevator. The doors closed with a soft hiss.
Floor 17 was sterile. White walls. Gray carpet. A row of chairs lined the hallway outside the interview room.
He sat.
Across from him, a young woman typed furiously on her tablet. Another trainee candidate, no doubt. She glanced at him, then did a double take.
"Sorry," she said. "You look… familiar."
Jonathan smiled. "I get that a lot."
She frowned. "Were you in the legacy program?"
He shook his head. "First time."
She nodded, unconvinced.
The door opened. A man stepped out—mid-40s, tired eyes, clipboard in hand.
"Jonathan Raines?"
Jonathan stood.
The man blinked. "Seriously?"
Jonathan nodded.
The man gestured. "Interview room. Let's go."
The room was small. Two chairs. One table. A camera in the corner.
The interviewer sat, flipping through the blank résumé.
"No credentials. No experience. No references."
Jonathan folded his hands. "I learn quickly."
The man snorted. "You applied under the name Jonathan Raines. You know that's the founder's name, right?"
"I do."
"Bit bold."
Jonathan leaned forward. "I figured it would get me in the door."
The man raised an eyebrow. "You're not related?"
"No."
"Not a prank?"
"No."
The man stared at him. "You know, you actually look a little like him. Younger. Less polished."
Jonathan said nothing.
The man tapped the résumé. "Why Risk Division?"
Jonathan smiled. "Because it's the only department that still uses legacy protocols."
The man froze. "How do you know that?"
Jonathan shrugged. "I read."
The man leaned back. "You're either a genius or a lunatic."
Jonathan smiled. "I'm both."
The man stared at him for a long moment. Then he stood.
"Wait here."
He left the room.
Jonathan sat alone.
The camera blinked.
He looked directly into it.
"I'm back."