Eight years ago
The elegant Venetian crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the Organa Securities grand ballroom cast a golden glow across the vast room. Light danced across champagne glasses and gleamed off diamonds and cufflinks, catching on the tailored suits and silk gowns of Los Angeles' elite.
Tonight, the hall overflowed with power players: VIP clients of Organa Securities; movie stars protected from paparazzi and obsessed fans, industry giants safeguarding their families and fortunes, government officials, and senators who radiated the quiet confidence of untouchable influence.
They all believed they were safe beneath the prestige of Organa Securities.
Ben Solo stood at the edge of it all, beside his mother, Leia Organa, co-founder and the public face of the empire his family had built. A courteous smile rested on his lips, practiced and polished. But behind his eyes was a storm ; a deep, quiet ache, like a cracked pane of glass threatening to shatter.
His father, Han Solo, mingled with the guests with theatrical charm, his laughter booming through the room. He moved with the ease of a man used to commanding attention; shaking hands with high-level security execs, schmoozing with celebrity managers, charming senators with a wink.
"Twenty-three years, son!" Han clapped Ben's shoulder proudly. "You're growing up. Soon you'll carry on the legacy."
Ben nodded politely. But the words landed like cold stones in his chest.
A famous director approached with a firm handshake and a too-formal hug.
"Happy birthday, Ben. You're the future of Organa Securities. You've got Leia's brain and Han's presence. That's a deadly combo."
Ben offered a thin smile. He wasn't listening.
His mind kept circling back to what he'd found .. the documents, the polished lies disguised as legal truth. The contracts no one thought he'd ever see.
Among them was one that stuck in his throat like a shard of glass: a settlement agreement between Organa Securities and a woman named Shmi Skywalker. It looked routine; a confidentiality clause, a large transfer of funds. But the subtext was clear. Money paid for silence. Liability quietly erased.
Someone had died. And Leia Organa had signed it.
He couldn't look at her the same way. Not after that.
On paper, Ben Solo was perfect. A rising star at USC Law with nearly flawless marks, heir to one of the most powerful security firms in the country. A future lined with prestige, political influence, and power.
But inside, something cracked.
He believed in justice; or at least he used to. In truth. In accountability. But tonight, surrounded by champagne and hypocrisy, he realized: the system he'd been raised to uphold had long since traded its soul for discretion and profit.
The party pressed around him, but Ben felt like he was underwater, drowning beneath layers of tailored suits and polite deception.
"I'm not feeling well," he said suddenly, interrupting Leia's conversation with a tech mogul.
She turned, her brow furrowed. "Ben, are you okay?"
But he was already walking away.
He cut through the crowd without looking back, their confusion and curiosity trailing behind him like whispers.
By the time he stepped outside into the humid Los Angeles night, the sky had opened.
Rain came down in heavy sheets, soaking his expensive suit within seconds. He didn't care. Let the rain have him.
He moved fast toward the garage, water streaming from his hair as he mounted his motorcycle. The engine roared like a beast as thunder cracked overhead.
No destination. No plan.
Just rage. Betrayal. And the sudden, terrifying awareness that the world he'd trusted was built on silence.
He raced through the empty city streets, headlights carving through puddles, reflections of neon shimmering like lies on wet asphalt. The storm didn't slow him. If anything, it matched him; wild, angry, chaotic.
Eventually, the chaos led him to the edge of Venice Beach.
The ocean thrashed in the distance, waves crashing against sand in a rhythm that felt more honest than anything he'd heard at the gala. The scent of salt, rain, and gasoline filled his lungs.
He killed the engine and sat in silence, staring out into the dark water.
He didn't know what came next. But he knew one thing for certain:
He could never go back.
Not to Organa Securities.
Not to the path they had chosen for him.
Somewhere behind him, near a row of parked motorcycles, a figure stood, tall, still, watching.
Even through the curtain of rain and shadows, Ben could feel the man's presence like static in the air. There was something dangerous about him. Something magnetic.
The man lifted a hand, beckoning him closer.
And Ben… didn't look away.