Chapter 1

Ethan Miller stood by the large window, looking out at the city lights.

His city.

Soon, everyone would know his name.

The American Horizon Architectural Prize. He was a finalist.

Winning meant everything.

A grant, recognition, a partnership with a legend.

His hand-drafted designs, his models, they spoke for him.

Behind him, the party was loud.

Ashley, his older sister, CEO of Miller Holdings, had thrown it.

Victoria, his fiancée, beautiful and ambitious, was by Ashley's side, as always.

They called it a pre-celebration.

Ethan felt a warmth spread through him. His family.

They believed in him.

"To Ethan!" Ashley raised her glass, her voice cutting through the noise.

She was strong, always in control, the head of their family's empire.

"The future of architecture!"

Victoria smiled, her eyes shining at him.

"He's already a star," Victoria said, her voice soft.

Ethan smiled back, genuine.

Jason Price watched from a corner.

Their adopted brother, part of the family since his own parents died.

An architect too, or trying to be.

Ethan saw the look in Jason's eyes.

Not pride. Something else.

Envy. It was always there, a shadow.

But tonight, Ethan chose to ignore it.

A few days later, the call came.

Ashley's voice, urgent.

"Ethan, something's come up with the downtown site. Victoria and I need you to meet us. It's important."

"Now? What is it?"

"Just come. Old warehouse district, Pier 7. We'll explain."

It sounded off, but it was Ashley. He trusted her.

The warehouse district was dark, deserted.

He found Pier 7. No sign of Ashley's car, or Victoria's.

A flicker of unease.

He got out of his car.

"Ashley?"

Silence.

Then, figures emerged from the shadows.

Not his sister. Not his fiancée.

Thugs. Hard faces, cold eyes.

They moved fast.

He tried to fight, to run.

Too many.

Pain exploded in his head.

Then his hands. A sickening crunch.

His right arm, a searing agony.

He heard a shout, "Make sure he never draws again!"

Darkness.

He woke up in a hospital room.

White walls, beeping machines.

A dull ache everywhere. A sharp pain in his hands, his arm.

A doctor stood beside his bed, face grim.

"Mr. Miller, you were lucky to be found."

The doctor's words were clinical, detached.

"Severe trauma to both hands, multiple fractures. Your dominant arm has significant nerve and muscle damage. Partial hearing loss in your left ear. Internal injuries... you'll require a colostomy."

Ethan stared.

His hands. His arm.

His career.

Gone.

Despair washed over him, cold and absolute.

Ashley and Victoria were there later.

Their faces etched with concern.

"Oh, Ethan, thank God you're alive," Ashley said, her voice thick with emotion.

Victoria clutched his uninjured hand, tears in her eyes.

"We were so worried. The police said it was a random mugging, a bad part of town."

"We'll take care of you, Ethan," Ashley promised. "Anything you need."

A flicker of hope, quickly extinguished by the doctor's words replaying in his mind.

He was heavily sedated, drifting in and out.

Later, he wasn't sure if it was hours or a day.

He was conscious, but his body felt too heavy to move.

Voices. From the small lounge adjoining his private room.

Ashley. And Victoria.

He focused, fighting through the fog of medication.

Victoria sounded hesitant, strained.

"This is too much, Ash. We just needed him to miss the deadline, not... this. He'll need care for life!"

His blood ran cold.

Ashley's voice was ice.

"Those thugs got carried away, but it solves the problem permanently. Jason needs this win. He deserves it."

Jason?

"Remember the fire, Vic?" Ashley continued. "Jason saved us. We owe him. Ethan's always had it easy; he's a Miller. He'll be comfortable even if he can't work. Jason needs our help. This prize will be his."

The fire. Years ago. A small kitchen fire at their lake house.

Ethan remembered pulling a scared Ashley and a younger Victoria out while Jason stood frozen by the door.

Jason saved them?

The words hit him, harder than any physical blow.

Betrayal. Absolute and horrifying.

His sister. His fiancée.

His world shattered.

He closed his eyes, a single tear escaping, hot against his skin.

The pain in his body was nothing compared to the agony in his soul.

He remembered small things now.

Ashley always finding excuses for Jason's failures.

Victoria subtly steering conversations to praise Jason's mediocre designs.

The times his own smaller projects were mysteriously sabotaged, setbacks Jason always seemed to benefit from.

He had been blind.

His life, his talent, all a threat to their twisted devotion to Jason.

He was a pawn.

Weeks later, in a sterile rehab facility, Ethan was a ghost of himself.

His hands were useless, wrapped in bandages.

His arm throbbed constantly. The colostomy bag was a constant, humiliating reminder.

The prize deadline had passed. Jason, he heard, was the frontrunner.

He looked out the window. The world seemed gray, pointless.

Ending it seemed like the only escape.

The thought was a constant companion.

One afternoon, a woman visited.

Sharp suit, calm eyes.

She didn't introduce herself by name, only by organization.

"Phoenix BioGenesis."

She spoke quietly, directly.

"Mr. Miller, we've learned of your... unique injuries. Your case is catastrophic."

Ethan just stared.

"We specialize in experimental regenerative medicine. Neurological recovery. Technologies years ahead of anything public."

She paused.

"We have a program. The Phoenix Protocol. It's high-risk, highly experimental. No guarantees."

She looked him in the eye.

"But it might offer you a chance. Not just to recover. To be... reforged."

Reforged. The word echoed in the sterile room.

"Why me?" Ethan managed, his voice raspy.

"Your will to recover, Mr. Miller. And perhaps, other motivations. It's your only hope."

His only hope.

He had nothing left. No career, no love, no family he could trust.

Only a burning, cold rage.

"I agree," Ethan said, the words barely a whisper.

Desperation. And a tiny, dangerous spark.

Justice.