Tony lay on the couch, one leg slung over the armrest, the other tapping to a lo-fi beat humming from his phone. The penthouse windows cast golden slices of sunlight across the floor, the city skyline shimmering in the distance.
His phone buzzed.
DENT – Incoming Call.
(What could he want?)
He stared at the screen for a second, sighed, then answered.
"Didn't expect you to be the first to break radio silence," Tony said lazily.
Dent's voice was crisp, dry, and packed with unspoken irritation.
"You've been asking questions you have no business asking."
Tony sat up, his tone turning cool.
"You mean questions like why the Tokyo-Berlin merger timeline was shifted without board consensus?"
A pause.
(Hard and cold.)
"You're not cleared for that data," Dent said tightly. "You're not even on the international strategy board yet."
Tony smirked. "Yet."
Dent didn't laugh. "I'm calling because this little performance of yours is starting to irritate people who actually built this company."
Tony stood and walked to the window, gaze fixed on the horizon.
"And I'm staying calm because people who built this company seem happy watching it rot from the top down."
That hit. That hit hard. Tony could hear it in Dent's silence.
Then Dent snapped, "You inherited a title, Tony. That's it. You've got no history, no blood, no dirt on your hands. You're a pretender playing CEO."
Tony let that settle for half a beat. Then his voice dropped, velvet wrapped around a blade.
"And yet here you are, the kingmaker himself, calling me from whatever throne you think you're sitting on… threatened by a so-called pretender."
Dent scoffed, "You don't understand the weight of this business. You think pulling off one media stunt makes you a savior?"
"No," Tony replied. "But I do think having my name on every floor of the Bellingham tower gives me the right to ask why our Q1 projections look like someone's been asleep at the wheel."
There was a sharp inhale from the other end.
Tony wasn't done.
(Nah, he gotta suffer some more.)
"And Dent—if I end up digging deeper, and I find that our budget cuts started the same month you filed reimbursement for three luxury retreats in Dubai, I won't be calling you next time. And that'a promise."
(Silence.)
Dent's voice came back low and dangerous.
"You're out of your depth, boy."
Tony smiled, venom-slick.
"Then throw me overboard. Let's see who sinks first."
He hung up.
For a moment, the room was quiet—just the soft hum of lo-fi returning to fill the space. Tony walked back to the couch, picked up a pen, and scribbled three words on his notepad:
"Dent. Audit. Now."
A knock at the door.
Tony didn't even look up. "It's open."
(It was Aaron, his well....butler. But tony(kai) thought of him as a friend.)
Aaron stepped in, holding two coffee cups and a bag of something that smelled suspiciously like cinnamon rolls. " Sir? You looked like you needed caffeine. And maybe a sugar bomb."
Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "You got timing, I'll give you that."
Aaron placed the drinks on the table, then narrowed his eyes. "You look like you just chewed someone out over the phone."
Tony raised an eyebrow, sipping the coffee. "Not just someone. Dent."
Aaron froze. "You called Dent?"
Tony shook his head. "He called me."
Aaron whistled low. "And you're still standing?"
"Barely." Tony tossed the notepad at him. "I told him I'd audit him. Think he took it well?"
Aaron stared at the scribble. "You're serious sir?."
"Dead serious." Tony leaned back. "The numbers don't lie, Aaron. Someone's been bleeding money from the inside. If Dent's not behind it, he knows who is."
Aaron's expression shifted from amusement to concern. " Master tony! You're playing with fire. You know that, right?"
"I'm not playing." Tony's tone was quiet now. "I'm making moves. Because if I don't, they'll eat me alive."
Aaron looked at him for a long time, then sat down. "So, what's the next move?"
Tony smiled. "We start the audit. Quietly. Just enough to shake the dust off some files. I want to know what Dent's been hiding."
"And if we find something?"
Tony sipped his coffee again, then looked Aaron dead in the eye.
"Then we go to war."
Aaron leaned back on the couch, rubbing his temple. "You know what I see when I look at you right now?"
"Genius billionaire playboy?"
Aaron smirked. "Guy who's picking fights with sharks and forgot to check if he has any chum strapped to his leg."
Tony raised his cup in a mock toast. "I'm sure as well bulletproof."
"Sir! No one's bulletproof. Dent especially doesn't miss."
Tony stood and moved to the minibar. He poured a glass of water, letting the silence stretch.
"That's why I need you watching my six. We dig smart, and we keep it internal until we've got something solid. No leaks."
Aaron nodded, but the worry didn't leave his eyes. "You realize if he sniffs this out early, he could turn the board against you. You're still the 'kid in the suit' to half of them."
Tony stared into his glass. "Then I stop being the kid. Starting today."
Aaron rose and joined him by the window. The sun had shifted, shadows crawling across the polished floor like creeping doubts.
"Alright," Aaron said, voice firm. "Sir! Let's get our hands dirty."
Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit. I'll ping Alina. She's got access to finance logs Dent doesn't know I have."
Aaron looked out at the city. "And if she won't help?"
Tony's jaw tightened. "Then we make her help."
There was a pause. Then Aaron smirked. "Welcome to the dark side."
Tony grinned, the fire in his chest burning brighter. "Yeah, feels like home already."
Behind them, the lo-fi beat played on—steady, chill, indifferent to the war about to unfold.
(If they want a battle. I'm sure as hell ready for war.)