Meanwhile, on the Upper East Side of the city, Reuben stood outside the Sinclair mansion and knocked on the door.A few seconds later, the door creaked open to reveal a maid. “Good evening, Mr. Forester,” the maid greeted with a smile. Nearly all the staff at the Sinclair mansion were fond of Reuben.“Evening Rosie, could you let Andrew know that I'm out here waiting for him?” Rosie nodded "Yes, sir,” she nodded. “Aren't you going to come in?”Reuben was about to nod, but through the window, he saw that Christopher was sitting in the living room with Lana in his arms. Reuben shook his head in no. “I'll just wait for him out here.”Rosie gave him a soft nod, then went back into the mansion. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Andrew.“Reuben, is there a problem?” Andrew asked.Reuben nodded and let out a small sigh. "Yes, Andrew, a big problem.”“What is it?”Reuben cleared his throat, and his eyes went steely. “I don't know how to say this... It's better you come with me; let's

At the bar earlier, Andrew was sure that he had consumed more alcohol than he ever had in his life, and yet all it took was hearing the recording to make him sober up. ‘’Who sent that?’’ Andrew asked through gritted teeth.‘’Don’t blow a fuse yet; you haven’t seen everything,'' Stefan said, and Andre could’ve sworn that there was amusement in his father’s eyes as he turned his laptop so that Andrew could see the images on the screen.Andrew’s eyes narrowed into slits as soon as he saw the images of Reuben and Jason together at the prison. At first, a small part of him was sure that the audio was somehow fabricated, but there was no denying it now. Reuben wasn’t an investor, and worse of all, he was never his friend.It was all an act. Every moment that they spent together, every conversation they had. It was all part of Jason’s plan.‘’I’ve had Reuben keep an eye on them to find any information that could help me get my revenge.”Jason’s words played in Andrew’s head on a devastating

The laundry room was tucked away in a far corner of the prison’s lower level, nearly forgotten beneath flickering fluorescent lights and thick cement walls that blocked out any trace of natural light. The space was cramped, filled with rows of bulky, rust-streaked industrial washing machines that clanked and groaned with each cycle, their sound echoing against the concrete.A faint smell of mildew and detergent clung to the air, barely masking the dampness that seeped through cracks in the walls. Steady drips of water pooled near the drain in the floor, adding a quiet but relentless rhythm that only deepened the room’s sense of isolation.As Jason worked, he felt a strange awareness of just how alone he was, a growing sense of unease prickling his skin. But he pushed those feelings aside and focused on his task.Jason was focused on scrubbing a stubborn stain, harsh detergent stinging his hands, when suddenly a heavy pile of filthy laundry landed on his shoulders, forcing him to stagg

Reuben leaned back against the plush couch, suppressing a sigh as he watched Andrew move a piece on the chess board that was in front of them.When Andrew asked Reuben to follow him to his room, Reuben knew that Andrew wouldn’t divulge the information about his father right away, but he hadn’t expected it to take this long.They had spent hours holed up in Andrew’s hotel room, eating, watching movies, and playing games. Reuben had hoped to gently steer the conversation toward Stefan, maybe finally uncovering something useful. Yet every time he even hinted at it, Andrew deflected with more mundane chatter, effectively sidestepping the topic altogether.As evening crept in, Andrew dragged out a chessboard, and Reuben could feel himself growing more frustrated with each passing hour. Still, he tried to keep his expressions neutral, not wanting to appear too eager for any information that might spill.Andrew set up the pieces and smirked, placing his pawns with exaggerated care. “You know

Solitary confinement.Jason had heard of and avoided the place like a plague for both of his times in prison. Until now, that is.The cells in solitary confinement in this prison were small, dim, and mercilessly quiet, designed to break the spirit as much as to contain the body. The walls were painted in a dull, oppressive grey that seemed to absorb any sliver of light. A single narrow window, heavily barred, offered a view of nothing but an endless stone wall outside. The air was stale, thick with the smell of sweat and bleach, and seemed to hang heavily, unmoving in the cell’s stagnant isolation.Each cell was separated by a solid cement wall that might have meant complete silence for most, but for Jason and the Godfather, there was a crack in the wall just wide enough to let sounds trickle through. It had been a day since both men were unceremoniously dragged into solitary, thrown into cells side by side after the guard caught them in the laundry room and assumed that they were th