Cyrus sat on his chair, one hand resting lazily on the armrest, the other tapping the edge of a folder thick with reports his men had compiled over the past week.The Brown Empire was cracking. He could feel it, smell it, hear it in the silence between the headlines and the whispers on the trading floor. Each fissure was small, but when pressure was applied in the right place, a monolith could topple. Cyrus had made a career out of finding such fissures.Now he had found another one.The mysterious hacking incident that cost the Browns two billion dollars had set everything in motion. He had already suspected internal rot, but the sudden silence of suspects after one dared to utter “Kate” confirmed it. And then, days later, their unexplained deaths in custody.It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t perfect. Whoever orchestrated the cover up had left trails faint ones, but enough for a man like Cyrus to follow.He had dispatched his operatives the moment the first suspect’s blood had dried on the

The boardroom of the Brown Empire was never designed for silence, but that morning, silence ruled. The long oval table gleamed under the cold light, every leather chair filled with tense faces from the directors, shareholders, siblings. Some glanced at one another, whispers dying the moment Henry’s presence carried into the room.At the head of the table, Henry Brown sat like stone, his gaze sharp, his shoulders heavy with command. To his right sat Davis, chin lifted with smug curiosity. Victory leaned back, arms crossed, watching everything with hawk-like suspicion. Across the table, Kate sat rigid, lips tight, her pride a brittle wall concealing the fire beneath.The other senior shareholders, legal advisors, finance heads shifted nervously, sensing the storm in the air.Henry’s voice cut through the silence.“Last night, I made a decision many of you have already heard whispered. I will now make it official.”Murmurs rippled immediately, but Henry raised a hand, silencing them.“Ef

The safehouse was quiet, too quiet for Ven’s liking. The heavy curtains muffled the noise of the city outside, and the only sound inside was the faint ticking of an antique clock Bryan had insisted on hanging by the wall. Ven sat behind a broad oak table, its surface littered with scattered reports, handwritten notes, and fragments of newspaper cuttings. Each piece of information was a strand of the Brown Empire affairs.Ven leaned back, running his fingers across his jawline. In the last forty-eight hours, the empire he had sworn to break apart had suffered blows he hadn’t even needed to deliver himself. Kate suspended and Reynolds dead. Henry trying to keep the illusion of control intact. Davis and Victory growing restless, suspicious of each other, though still tied together by blood.“Not my hand, yet it works in my favor,” he murmured to himself.Bryan entered silently, carrying a tray of coffee, setting it down before him. “You’ve barely eaten, boss,” Bryan said softly. His tone

The room was dimly lit, the only source of illumination a lamp set in the far corner that painted long shadows across the bare walls. Victory Brown sat at the head of the table, his jaw clenched, his fingers drumming lightly on the polished surface. He had chosen this place deliberately. He sees it a safe house tucked away from prying eyes, where his conversations with Rourke could remain buried in secrecy. Opposite him, Rourke leaned back in his chair, his lips curled in that perpetual half smile that made Victory uneasy. The man had the aura of someone who enjoyed keeping others guessing. His very presence was a constant reminder that alliances with men like him were always dangerous. But in the war for survival inside the Brown Empire, Victory needed dangerous men. “Davis is slipping,” Rourke began, sliding a folder across the table. His voice was smooth, confident, almost too casual for the weight of what he was unveiling. “And I think it’s time we pushed him further down the s

The ride to the prosecutor’s office was short but suffocating. Davis kept his expression neutral, refusing to give his captors the satisfaction of seeing fear. Yet inside, his blood simmered. Every minute in custody would be an insult to his name, his power, and everything the Brown Empire represented.They led him through a back entrance, deliberately avoiding the media, but he knew cameras would still capture the images. His rivals would seize on this like a lion already waiting to pounce on the prey.Davis was ushered into a bare interrogation room. Cold white walls, a single table, two chairs, and a camera in the corner blinking red. They had staged this perfectly, stripping away every luxury he was used to, every symbol of control.Two prosecutors entered, the same lead man from his office and another younger one with sharp eyes and a notebook. They didn’t bother with pleasantries.“Mr. Brown,” the lead began, voice measured. “You are under investigation for multiple counts of fi