Chapter 48: Find Your Parents And Kill Them

"Welcome, Master Thorne."

Damon looked at the elderly man sitting at the head of the table.

The faint smile on the man’s face gave nothing away.

"I imagine you have quite a few questions," he continued. "Your first visit here, surrounded by strangers who seem less than pleased to see you. Relax, young man. We haven’t called you here to make you uncomfortable."

Damon glanced at the faces around the table.

Judging by their expressions, they hadn’t received that particular instruction.

"What’s the purpose of bringing me here?"

The room fell silent.

Several people frowned at his bluntness. One of the men seated near the windows leaned back in his chair, looking at Damon as though he had just committed an unforgivable offense.

The elderly man, however, chuckled.

"Always impatient, the young ones. Very well. I’ll save us both some time and speak plainly."

He rested his hands on the table.

"Every person in this room belongs to one of the most influential families in the country. Together, our families form an organization known as the Eclipse Concord."

Damon listened without interrupting.

"The Concord exists to maintain the balance of power within the country. Wealth, industry, military resources, manufacturing, and even individuals whose strength exceeds that of ordinary people all affect the nation’s stability.

Someone has to ensure that no single family gains enough power to bring everything crashing down."

The old man paused.

"That responsibility falls to us."

Damon’s eyes moved across the table again.

So this wasn’t simply a committee dealing with inheritance disputes. The people sitting here belonged to families powerful enough to influence entire industries and command individuals like the assistant who had escorted him.

That explained their strength.

It didn’t explain why they looked at him as though they wanted him dead.

"And you?" Damon asked.

The elderly man smiled.

"Alistair Veyron. I am the current head of the Eclipse Concord. Some call me the Old Head."

He said it casually, as though the title meant very little to him.

Then his expression changed.

"Your mother once held that position."

Damon’s gaze sharpened.

"My mother?"

"Yes. The Thorne family was one of the founding pillars of the Concord. For generations, your family stood at the very top of the country. Your mother inherited that position and, in turn, inherited my loyalty."

A few people around the table shifted at the mention of her.

Damon noticed.

Their expressions hadn’t softened. If anything, the name seemed to deepen their resentment.

He leaned back slightly.

"Then why was the Thorne family removed from the Concord?"

Alistair regarded him for a moment.

"Four years ago, everything changed."

The room grew quieter.

"Your parents disappeared."

Damon’s expression remained still, but his attention sharpened.

"Disappeared?"

"Both of them. They vanished without leaving a clear explanation. Along with them went several of your family’s secrets and records that had been kept beyond the reach of ordinary people."

Alistair’s fingers tapped once against the table.

"The Thorne family’s influence began to crumble soon afterward. Its assets became inaccessible, its position was stripped away, and the name was eventually removed from the Concord."

Damon frowned.

"Thomas told me my parents died four years ago."

"That is what most people believe."

Alistair met his eyes.

"But belief is not proof. No conclusive evidence of their deaths was ever found."

For the first time since entering the room, Damon struggled to keep his thoughts in order.

His parents had disappeared?

The system had given him Damon Thorne’s identity, legal history, and access to Blackstone Manor, but nothing that explained what had truly happened to the original Thorne family.

Now he was learning that even the official account of his supposed parents’ deaths might be wrong.

What the hell happened four years ago?

He looked at Alistair.

"Why tell me this now?"

"Because you’re here."

The old man gave him a measured look.

"For four years, the Thorne family had no recognized heir within the Concord. We had no reason to believe that position could be restored. But now you’re alive, carrying the Thorne name and occupying the family estate."

He spread his hands.

"The situation has changed."

Damon didn’t like how easily the old man said it.

"And what does that mean for me?"

"It means the Thorne family can return."

A few faces around the table tightened.

Alistair continued as though he hadn’t noticed.

"Your name can once again be recognized by the Concord. You will have access to the influence and resources that come with membership.

You will no longer stand outside the circle while others decide the fate of your family’s remaining interests."

He paused.

"Provided, of course, that you’re willing to accept your position."

Damon studied him.

The offer was substantial. An organization with this kind of influence could open doors that money alone couldn’t. It could also provide information about the Thorne family’s missing inheritances that Thomas’s records had never revealed.

But the hostility around the table hadn’t disappeared.

Some of these people clearly had no desire to welcome him back.

And Alistair was offering him power without explaining what he expected in return.

Damon had lived long enough to know better than to accept a gift before checking the price.

"Nothing comes free," he said.

Alistair’s smile widened.

"Of course not."

He leaned forward slightly.

"There’s one condition."

Damon waited.

"Find your parents."

The old man’s voice remained calm.

"And kill them."

For a moment, Damon wondered whether he had heard correctly.

The room remained silent. Nobody laughed or questioned the demand. The men and women around the table watched him, some with cold satisfaction, others with expressions he couldn’t quite read.

They had known this was coming.

Damon looked directly at Alistair.

He had come here expecting answers about the missing inheritances.

Instead, he had found an organization that hated his family, an old man who seemed to know far more than he was saying, and a demand that made no sense without the missing pieces.

Damon rested his hands on the table.

"Why?"