Below them, the trading floor was visible through tinted glass. Dozens of traders bustled in chaotic precision, shouting across phones, tapping furiously at keyboards, buying and selling as though their motions could hold up the economy itself. But already, unseen ripples spread through their world.Markets rewound by minutes, then hours, data unraveling and reassembling under Evander’s command. Competitors’ numbers shrank, their value bleeding out as though their foundations had been riddled with holes. At the same time, Velcan Holdings—his empire, his dynasty of watches and luxury—soared like a phoenix rising.Stocks skyrocketed. Reports shifted to unprecedented gains. Investment streams rerouted themselves in flawless sequence, as though fate itself had favored him.Evander was no longer merely rewriting records. He was reshaping the financial skeleton of Westwood itself.Frozen in place, the Manager’s eyes darted wildly, straining against his paralysis. He was forced to watch eve

The storm of numbers faded, but its aftershocks echoed across the city.By the time Evander Velcan stepped out of the bank’s steel-framed doors, the sun had shifted slightly westward—though he had bent time so often in those moments that it was hard to tell whether minutes or hours had truly passed.Behind him, chaos still reigned. The trading floor was a battlefield of paper, broken voices, and ringing alarms. News tickers scrolled in frenzied bursts:“Velcan Holdings Soars – Foreign Competitors Collapse!”“Unprecedented Surges in Market History!”To the public, it was chance. To insiders, it was genius. But only Evander knew the truth: history itself had been rewritten that morning.He adjusted his coat, calm and immaculate. The world would never know what it owed him. Yet he wasn’t finished. Today was not just about markets. Today was about conquest.By noon that, Evander was seated in a high-rise boardroom overlooking the skyline. Two mundane figures joined him: Adrian Kessler, th

The air in the room seemed heavier after Ross spoke.Jayden’s voice was sharp, his brows were drawn low.“What do you mean?”Ross stepped closer, the low light catching the hard lines of his face. He moved like a man who carried secrets that could ruin empires. When he spoke again, his voice was steady, gravel edged.“The Velcans,” he said, “aren’t just fueling the protests. They’re the whistleblowers. The leaks that stirred this anger, the documents that put the Orion family and franchise, the Khyber family and the other families, and half the city’s ruling arms? They came from them. Every chant in the streets, every voice crying out for justice — it was planted, engineered. The Velcans have been playing both sides of the board. To the public, they look like heroes. But in truth, they are bleeding this city for their gain.”Jayden’s eyes narrowed. He could almost hear the words ricocheting in his skull. The Velcans as whistleblowers? That turned everything upside down.For weeks, the

The skyline of Westwood glowed like a constellation of ambition. Beyond the glass wall of his office, towers burned with light, neon rivers flowed down highways, and the city pulsed with restless hunger. Yet within, the world was quiet—silent except for the faint, deliberate tick of a watch displayed in a crystal case.Evander Velcan sat alone behind a desk of obsidian black, the faint reflection of his face in the polished surface. His expression was calm, sharp, unyielding. Around him, glass shelves displayed rows of Velcan prototypes, each timepiece encased like a relic of divine power. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, and allowed himself a rare indulgence: the taste of triumph.The Khybers had fallen, other business franchise had shown some level of retardation, their lifeline was severed, their pride broken. Evander had not needed to raise an army or spill blood; he had bent time itself to make them yield.“They called Tariq a lion,” he murmured t

“You… bastard. Why the hell are you here? Do you want to destroy me the way you destroyed Tariq Khyber? The way you broke Vincent Arceneaux? Is that what this is?”His tone carried fury, but underneath, there was something else—fear.But Jayden did not flinch. His expression was calm, composed, his voice was low but sharper than steel.“Relax, Evander,” he said, each word deliberate, echoing with authority. “I’m not here to kill you.”The pen twitched in his wrist, a cruel reminder of Jayden’s control.“But don’t mistake this for mercy. If you prove stubborn…”The Synapticore flared violently, rattling the shelves, cracking the monitors. The entire office seemed to groan under the weight of Jayden’s power.“…I can still end this almost immediately.”The ticking of the watch on the shelf filled the silence again. Steady. Relentless. Mocking.Evander bled into his chair, his pride shattered, his power cut off at the wrist. The self proclaimed lion of Westwood, was forced into submissio