The Night City sees a hero in V. Daniel Morris sees an obstacle.
Long ago, he had decided: "She will be mine" — it was not a thought, but a phrase etched into Daniel Morris's consciousness. Not some pathetic merc from the dirty streets of Night City, whose hands are stained with Eddie's blood, but a man of her caliber. He is Daniel Morris, Director of the Federal Intelligence Agency. She is his perfect equation.
This upstart V is just a pesky misunderstanding that needs to be corrected. At any cost. His spycraft, honed by years of high-stakes shadow games, was the perfect weapon for such a task. His weapon is not a gun, but a whisper in the dark, a forged document, a dagger to the reputation. Lies woven into an elegant web, manipulations that leave no trace, and cold, calculated cruelty—all this he wields to erase his rival from the board.
The end justifies any means. And if to win, he had to break her heart by hurting the man she seemed to love... So be it. He was willing to pay that price. Morris looked at her photograph. To possess her, he was ready to become a monster. Her pain is merely a side effect on the path to possession, and her happiness with another—a mistake he will correct with icy resolve.
Morris had foreseen this moment in his cold calculations: when the rival was defeated and disgraced, it would be he, Daniel, who would be her comfort, her support, her cure for the heartache. He had words of solace and a strong shoulder to lean on ready.
But he miscalculated. His algorithms, capable of predicting stock market movements and coups d'état, failed to calculate the strength of the human heart. The love that bound her and V proved stronger. Yes, his poisonous seeds took root—a shadow of resentment and distrust fell between them, a quarrel ensued, followed by a painful but brief separation.
But it did not break them. Instead, with a stubbornness he had not anticipated, she began to dig deeper. And she dug down to the truth. She uncovered the heart of the lie, the forged reports, and the strings he had pulled. And in an instant, the image of the perfect Daniel Morris crumbled, revealing a pathetic and vengeful schemer.
It was no longer about love, but about survival. He fled to Texas, escaping not from justice, but from her wrath. With forged documents and makeup on his face, he ran, but he knew it was not salvation. It was merely a reprieve. His entire life, built with such effort, collapsed in an instant under her gaze full of contempt.
And he knew she would not let him go. Not out of love, but out of hate. Her anger would haunt him like a shadow, and her vengeance would become his own most skillful weapon, turned against him. His new purpose is an eternal flight, and he, the master of shadows, is now forced to hide within them. Forever. His only purpose is to always look over his shoulder, remembering that she never forgives and never forgets.
The once-powerful director had become a ghost, hunted by the echo of his own betrayal.
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