Keith thought about going to the hospital to check up on Flora but then he decided against it. He didn’t want to seem too caring, didn’t want her to know that he thought about her more than he should. He made up his mind to give her a call when he was done at the office; whatever he was going to do, then meet up later if she happened to be free for the night. He kept glancing outside the window, a thought tugging at his mind. Finally, he turned and asked Wills, “What time do they arrive?”Wills arched an eyebrow at him, “Who?” Keith frowned, “The other so-called pillars of my dynasty,” He replied, avoiding eye contact with Wills because he was unsure of what his eyes would portray now that he was thinking about the Wales girl.“Well, they will be on a first-class flight by,” He glanced at his wrist-watch, “Noon. I will be at the airport with a few others to receive them. So, they should arrive at the new headquarters and report to you before the day is over.” A thought occurre

Later that day, Keith noticed something odd. There were only eleven dossiers on his desk.Wills had exited the office and was on his way to the airport to pick up the executives who were supposed to touchdown soon. Keith frowned and counted them again. There was supposed to be twelve dossiers, Greenburgh’s inclusive. He ran through the profile of all eleven of them and saw something written on two particular files. One was a name, with a picture attached to it. Harry Mance. Age, 43. A charismatic and assertive fellow, also intelligent and a wise, strategic thinker. He owned a huge institute in the Investment Banking and Asset Management by the name Mance and Co. Financial limited. Keith went on to read further.Mance had founded the leading financial firm ten years ago and specialized in investment banking, asset management and wealth management with offices in major financial hubs continent wide. He was a huge and important figure in the sector, a giant force that others didn

Mandy Wales wasn’t so thrilled about her relocation to New York. She was going to be the boss’s secretary now, the main boss and not just the manager. She loved the fact that she would be working directly with the head of a dynasty. She had been surprised the first time they met that he was such a young man. He couldn’t be up to his thirties yet, she was sure about that. For days after his brief meeting, Keith had been the talk at the branch in Memphis and Mandy couldn’t help but chirp in a word or two into the gossips that travelled to her desk. For a lot of reasons, she was excited about being here. She could boast of a higher salary now. Mr. Wills had informed her of the twenty-thousand-dollar addition to her yearly income. The new boss was generous, he had said. But that salary didn’t come with the privileges the other executives had, she didn’t have a place to stay yet. But that wasn’t the reason she didn’t like her move to New York. And no, it wasn’t just about the boiste

The night air in New York didn’t carry the heavy, humid scent of Memphis; instead, it felt sharp and industrial, a cold breeze that smelled of wet asphalt and ambition. Keith sat in the back of his black sedan, his fingers tracing the velvet texture of the small, square box in his pocket. Inside sat a vintage Cartier necklace, a piece Wills had suggested as a "peace offering" for the chaos of their first date. But as the car glided through the neon-blurred streets toward the hospital, Keith wasn't thinking about jewelry. He was thinking about the man he had killed.He could still feel the phantom kick of the gun in his palm. He could still see the way the shooter’s head had snapped back, the light leaving his eyes in a fraction of a second. It was a haunting image, yet beneath the horror, there was a budding, cold realization: he had survived. The "Alpha" within him wasn't just a title or a bank balance; it was a survival instinct that had finally been triggered. "You're quiet toni

The Lincoln Center was a massive cathedral of light and sound, its iconic arches glowing against the Manhattan night like the ribs of a prehistoric beast. Inside, the Metropolitan Opera House hummed with the refined vibration of New York’s ultra-elite. The scent of aged bourbon, Chanel No. 5, and the silent, crushing weight of old money.Keith Miller stood in the foyer, adjusting the cuffs of his midnight-blue tuxedo. The fabric felt like a second skin, armored and elegant. Beside him, Wills looked like a seasoned statesman in his own right, though the slight bulge under his left arm signaled a far more practical purpose."Greenburgh is already in Box 4," Wills murmured, checking a small, discreet device in the palm of his hand. "He’s with his wife and a young woman. Likely a mistress disguised as a niece. He’s drinking heavily.""Good," Keith said, his voice a calm, low vibration. "Let him marinate in his own fear for the first act. We move during the intermission."Keith climbed the