The death of Vincent Arceneaux shook the whole of Westwood like a storm no one had seen coming. The Council of Elders called an emergency meeting, their silver and black robes glowing under the light of the chamber fires. For days, the newspapers screamed in bold, merciless words:“Arceneaux Empire Crumbles.”“Council Orders 10 Trillion Restitution.”Citizens read in disbelief as each headline revealed more of the truth. Vincent Arceneaux, once praised as a genius and protector, had been using his gift—the mindscape—to hex the wealthy. He had whispered illusions into their minds, bent their thoughts, and drained their fortunes. The trillions he stole were hidden in ways only his warped mind could design.Now, with his death, and with Jayden's machinations, the crimes fell heavy on the rest of the Arceneaux family. The Council’s order was harsh: they must return over ten trillion dollars to their supposed victims.The streets burned with anger. Protesters gathered outside the Arceneau

The baby rested gently in Jayden’s arms, his soft breath warming Jayden’s chest. The world outside was filled with noise, chaos, and danger, but here in this small hospital room, there was peace—fragile, golden, and priceless.Jayden leaned closer to the little boy, smiling faintly. His voice softened, and though he was a man known across Westwood for bravery and scars, right now he spoke like a child discovering laughter.“Well, little one,” he whispered, “do you know who you are holding onto? I’m the man who fights villains and shadows, and yet… you’ve already beaten me.”The baby stirred slightly, his tiny lips twitching as if to smile. Jayden chuckled, surprised at himself. “Yes, you,” he said, tickling the child’s small hand with his finger. “You win, every time. I’ve fought armies, I’ve taken down tyrants, but the way you look at me…” His voice shook. “I can’t even stand.”Stella laughed softly from the bed, her voice was warm though her body was still weak from giving birth. “C

The hospital room was no longer quiet. The baby whimpered softly, Stella’s arms were rocking him against her chest, but her gaze stayed locked on the television screen where Orion banners burned.The flames reflected in her tired eyes, and for the first time in days, her composure threatened to crack.She exhaled, steadying herself. She could not afford weakness—not now. With her free hand she reached for the tablet resting on the side table. Its cold glass lit up beneath her touch, throwing pale light across her face. Swiftly, she opened the secured channel reserved for Orion’s upper council.Her fingers danced across the screen. One after another, she pulled the leaders into connection: the leaders of operations, administration, security, logistics. The very core of Orion Dynamics flickered to life in the darkened hospital room. Faces appeared in small windows, tired and strained, with shadows under their eyes.“Good evening, everyone." She began. "I wish this call were under calm

The hospital corridor stretched quiet and cold, but inside Jayden’s chest, his heartbeat was heavy and fast. He held his phone close to his ear, waiting for Ross to speak. The truth had already started to show itself, but Jayden knew there was more hidden beneath.“Which of the over beings did you spot?” Jayden asked, his voice was low and sharp.There was a long pause. Jayden could almost hear Ross breathing on the other side. When Ross finally spoke, his tone carried a careful weight.“Sir,” Ross said, “I saw something strange in the protests. Something none of the ordinary people noticed. Patterns. Ripples in the air. People moving too quickly, or too slowly, as if time itself was… bending.”Jayden stopped walking. His hand pressed hard against the wall, his mind started racing.Ross continued. “I saw shadows split away from bodies. I saw chants repeat, though lips only moved once. It was like the same second played itself again. The normal protesters didn’t see it—they thought it

The heart of the city gleamed beneath the afternoon sun. Towering structures of glass and marble pierced the sky, casting long shadows across the financial district. At the center of it all stood the colossal building—sleek, commanding, a fortress of commerce. Every transaction of worth, every investment of weight, pulsed through its arteries. It wasn’t just a bank; it was the very heartbeat of Westwood’s economy.Its vast steps shone like polished stone, worn smooth by the tread of countless investors, diplomats, and visionaries who had passed through its doors. Golden insignias caught the sunlight and reflected brilliance across the wide plaza. For those who sought influence, for those who sought fortune, entry into this building was like stepping into the sanctum of gods.And Evander Velcan walked toward it like one of those gods.His stride was smooth, unhurried, yet every motion spoke of control. He wore a tailored charcoal coat, its edges catching faint traces of light, and h