Getting A System In A Modern World

As Silas's private jet disappeared beyond U.S. airspace, a White House aide rushed into the President's office, breathless and wide-eyed.

"Mr. President, he's gone."

The President looked up, narrowing his eyes. "Gone?" he repeated, his voice edged with curiosity and a faint chill. "Explain."

"Yes, sir. Silas. He left with his family. They've departed the country."

For a moment, the President stared, caught off-guard. Then, his gaze hardened, narrowing in thought. Silas leaving the country—what did it mean?

Why would the most powerful young man he'd ever encountered suddenly vanish like this? One thing was certain: this was no small matter.

He had expected Silas to come for revenge. He knew that the killing of Daniel, orchestrated to settle a score, wouldn't had quelled the anger he was feeling.

The President knew that if he were in Silas's shoes, nothing could dampen that fire, not after everything Silas has been put through. But instead, Silas had left. He hadn't retaliated. He hadn't even lingered.

What was he planning?

The President's spine tingled as a dark possibility formed in his mind. 'Could it be…?' He pushed the thought away, almost shaking his head. 'No, it couldn't.'

But it returned, relentless, gnawing at his composure. There were only two possibilities: either Silas had no intention of fighting back, or he was preparing for something much worse. Something global.

The first option was absurd. Silas had displayed more power than any known Phenomenal. A type of strength that would had floored any Phenomenal. No, the young man had the means and if he hadn't acted, it was deliberate.

The second possibility was even more disturbing. Was it conceivable that Silas could mobilize enough power, allies, and influence to oppose a world power like the United States?

It sounded absurd, but as the President weighed it, he felt a pang of unease. Silas was a young man with a lot of mysteries.

No matter how he tried to dismiss it, the President couldn't shake off the feeling that a tempest was approaching, a storm the likes of which he hadn't seen in his entire life.

Silas's departure left a void, but also a sense of mounting dread. The President waved the aide off, watching as he quietly exited.

"I really hope it's not what I'm thinking," he murmured, half to himself.

---

Elizabeth stepped out of the hotel bathroom, pulling her robe tightly around herself as her phone buzzed on the bed.

The caller ID displayed a familiar name: David. She frowned, her mind stirring with questions. Something about this call felt off.

She picked up, her voice steady. "Hello, David. Is there a situation?"

There was a slight hesitation on the other end. "No… not exactly. But Silas left."

The news hit her like a shockwave. "Left?" she repeated, almost to herself. There was no need to clarify; she knew exactly who David was referring to.

This development was unexpected. Silas leaving? That wasn't like him. She remembered their last conversation, his voice over the phone, carrying the unmistakable edge of a man who would stop at nothing for revenge. Was he really going to let them go?

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. Silas wasn't one to simply forgive. If anything, the fact that he had left could mean something far more dangerous: he was preparing.

The realization was chilling. If he was leaving to regroup, to gather his strength for something larger… that was a scenario none of them were ready for.

"Thank you, David," she said, forcing a calm into her voice that she didn't feel. "Keep tabs on him. And please report back if anything changes."

"Yes, I will," he replied before the call disconnected.

Lowering the phone, Elizabeth stared out the window, her mind racing. There was nothing she could do to stop what was coming, but she could prepare. And she would—whatever it took.

---

Caracas International Airport, Caracas, Venezuela Read exclusive chapters at m_v-l'e|m,p y r

A sleek black aircraft descended over the airport, touching down on the runway with a long, piercing screech as the wheels gripped the tarmac. The jet's engines whined as it slowed, finally rolling to a stop near the VIP area.

Moments later, the door opened, and Silas emerged, holding Alex securely in his arms. Behind him, Chris and Kim followed, their expressions weary yet relieved. The humid air of Caracas filled Silas's lungs as he stepped onto the stairs, and, without missing a beat, he began his descent.

The second his foot hit the ground, two women in EMS uniforms hurried toward him, a stretcher at the ready. Silas gently transferred Alex into their care, watching as they placed him carefully on the stretcher and wheeled him toward an ambulance waiting nearby.

Kim followed close behind, her gaze fixed on her younger son. Though his condition wasn't life-threatening, she had insisted that he be checked thoroughly by medical professionals and given the rest he needed to fully recover in the hospital.

As the ambulance pulled away, Silas and Chris turned toward a line of black SUVs parked near the runway, each one sleek and meticulously polished. At the front of the fleet, a man dressed in a tailored black suit moved forward, bowing his head as he opened the door of the first limousine.

Chris's eyes widened, momentarily stunned. Over the past few hours, he had begun to grasp the reality of his son's wealth, but this… this was something else entirely.

A private jet, a personal convoy awaiting them at the airport, a dedicated medical team. He was slowly realizing the extent of Silas's influence.

Chris glanced at his son, who wore an air of quiet authority. 'My boy has accomplished so much,' he thought with a swell of pride.

His heart warmed as he marveled at how quickly Silas had grown into a figure of power and strength. Whatever lay ahead, he knew his son was prepared.

As they climbed into the limousine, Chris took a final look at the airport's towering hangars. He couldn't help but think that, even as they left their past behind, they were entering a new world—a world shaped by Silas's ambitions and the strength he wielded.

Sitting beside his father, Silas gazed out the window, his mind already turning to the plans he had put into motion. He wasn't here for a quiet life.

The U.S. government had crossed a line, and he intended to respond in kind. But first, he would establish himself here, building an empire that would shield his family and ensure that no threat—no government—could ever touch them again.

As the limousine moved through the bustling streets of Caracas, the city lights casting shadows across his face, Silas closed his eyes, a silent resolve settling over him.

This was just the beginning.