The penthouse was quiet, the city lights casting soft patterns across the floor-to-ceiling windows as the world outside slowed to a whisper. Rain gently tapped against the glass, a soft rhythm like a heartbeat echoing through the room. The city below seemed far away, insignificant compared to the warmth and closeness shared in this space.Henry sat in the oversized leather chair, his tie loosened, his gaze distant as he stared out at the skyline he had conquered. But despite his victories, the weight of the battles lingered—faint but present in his mind. Jasmine entered quietly, her bare feet barely making a sound against the cool marble floor. She wore a satin robe, the fabric clinging to her curves, flowing gently as she moved closer. Her presence alone was enough to soothe the storm inside him. She always had that effect—like an anchor grounding him when the weight of his empire threatened to consume him.“Henry,” she whispered, resting her hand gently on his shoulder, her fingers

The day unfolded slowly, the sunlight spilling into the penthouse in golden waves. Henry and Jasmine lingered in bed longer than they had in years, savoring the rare stillness that came with knowing they were safe, their family whole. Outside, the hum of the city carried on, but inside, it felt as though time itself had slowed.Jasmine nestled closer into Henry’s chest, her fingers tracing small patterns across his skin. “It feels strange,” she murmured softly, her voice thick with contentment.“What does?” Henry asked, tilting his head to look down at her, his hand running gently up and down her back.“To finally have peace,” she said, her eyes distant for a moment. “No one chasing us. No one plotting. Just… us.”Henry’s hand stilled for a moment, his jaw tightening as he considered her words. “It won’t last forever,” he said quietly, his voice edged with the wisdom of experience. “People like Marcus—there’s always another waiting in the shadows. Someone who sees what we have and wan

The morning sun poured gently through the tall windows of the Knights’ penthouse, filling the space with golden light. Jasmine sat at the dining table, feeding their baby boy small pieces of fruit, humming softly while the sound of a boiling kettle whistled faintly in the kitchen. Henry stood near the counter, sipping his coffee, the rich aroma blending with the calm hum of the city waking outside.Everything felt peaceful. Quiet.Then came a sharp knock at the door.Henry’s eyes narrowed slightly as he set his mug down, exchanging a glance with Jasmine. No one was supposed to be visiting.“I’ll get it,” he said, his voice calm but sharp with curiosity.When he opened the door, a young man stood there. He looked nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his hair slightly unkempt. His clothes were worn but clean, though his eyes—sharp and familiar—stood out the most.Henry’s gaze narrowed. “Can I help you?”The young man took a deep breath. “I… I need to talk to you. It’

The mansion was still smoldering when Henry, Jasmine, Ryan, and Emily finally stepped out into the cool night air.The stars above were dim against the faint glow of flames and the flashing red and blue lights of approaching emergency vehicles. Henry’s jaw was clenched, his chest heaving as he scanned the area for any remaining threats. He could still hear James’s venomous words ringing in his ears. “You can’t kill them all."Eva appeared from the shadows, her rifle slung over her shoulder, her expression sharp and unreadable. “The perimeter’s clear,” she said curtly, though her eyes lingered on the group. “What the hell happened in there?” Henry ignored the question, his mind still racing. Jasmine’s hand rested gently on his arm, grounding him, pulling him back from the edge of the storm brewing inside. “Henry,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the chaos. “We’re safe now.” He shook his head, his gaze flicking to Ryan and Emily, who were clinging to each other like l

The tension in the Ashcroft Club was suffocating. The low hum of jazz music played softly in the background, but Henry’s pulse pounded louder than any melody could reach. The weight of the file James had presented lingered in his hands like poison, each page spelling out a deception he never saw coming. He had never accepted help from James—or so he thought. But these documents told a different story. Henry’s eyes narrowed. His instincts screamed this was a setup, but the evidence was airtight. James leaned back in his chair, sipping his scotch with a smug smile. “You look tense, Henry. I’d imagine it’s hard realizing you’ve never been as untouchable as you believed.” Henry forced himself to remain calm. Control the room. “This... was fabricated. None of these records can hold up in court.” James chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Court? No, Henry. This isn’t about trials and judges. This is about power. Influence. You were made to believe you escaped us, b