One month had passed since the fallout from the scandals began, and the courts were now filled with cases against Hannah and Mr. Creed. While the evidence stacked against them was damning, Creed was pulling every trick in the book to drag the Whitmore name through the mud. His latest ploy was filing a formal complaint, claiming the Whitmore estate still harbored illegal activities. The authorities had little choice but to investigate, leading Chief Ken to show up on Joe’s doorstep yet again. Joe stood at the large front doors of his estate, his arms crossed as Chief Ken approached him. “Chief Ken,” Joe said through gritted teeth, “this is the third time you and your men have trooped through my property. What is it now?” The chief adjusted his hat, trying to maintain composure. “Mr. Whitmore, I’m just doing my job. We received another tip, and we’re obligated to check.” Joe’s jaw tightened. “Another tip? Let me guess—Creed?” Chief Ken nodded reluctantly. “You’re not wrong. But un

The black SUV hummed as it cruised down the highway under the cover of night, carrying Joe, Mr. Adam, and Victor toward their destination. Victor, was seated in the backseat beside Joe, stared out the window, his fingers drumming nervously on his knee. Joe glanced at Victor, sensing his unease. “You okay?” he asked. Victor nodded but didn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Just thinking.” Mr. Adam, who was in the driver’s seat, cut in sharply. “Don’t overthink. Stick to the plan, Victor. You’ve got your passport. Once you’re on that flight, it’s out of our hands.” “If you act out of place and get caught I’m going to come to your rescue.” Mr. Adam added. “I don’t expect you to help me you already done enough.” Victor said in a sarcastic tone which Mr. Adam noticed but he didn’t address. He ignored Victor and victor leaned back with a sigh. He was staring at the window once again, and seconds later he turned to Joe with a firm look on his face. “Joe,” he called out in a low tone,

Joe had thrown himself into work the following week. Each morning, he arrived at the company early, staying late into the night. The truth was he was trying to distract his mind, but everywhere he turned, something reminded him of Hannah. Whether it was a news headline that splashed her name across his screen or a fleeting memory of her laugh echoing in his mind. This frustrated him, at some point he just wished he had something to wipe away his memory. Sadly, there was nothing. However, today as Joe sat in his office, gazing out the window, the city lights twinkling against the darkening sky. His thoughts tripled. ‘Why can’t I shake her off my mind?’ he thought. Joe tried to push that thought away. He forced on his screen browsing through the multiple task he had to attend to. That evening, Joe received an invitation to a dinner hosted by one of the company's investors. He didn’t want to go at first until Timothy arrived at his doorstep with a persuasive look. “You need a brea

Joe wandered aimlessly through the house the next day each room feeling more suffocating than the last. He shuffled through the house, aimlessly moving from one room to the next. He felt restless, like he couldn't find a place where he could sit still. His thoughts kept circling back to everything that had happened—his father, the gang, Hannah, the endless pressure. The walls of the house felt like they were closing in on him. As he walked into the study, something caught his eye. Tucked in the corner of the room, almost hidden beneath a pile of books, was a scarf. It was a soft, pale blue fabric. He recognized it immediately as Hannah’s. His heart lurched in his chest. He stood there for a moment, staring at it, and then the weight of it seemed to drop on him. His mind flashed back to all the time they spent together, the conversations, the moments that seemed to matter. But that was over now. He had to let go. "Roland!" Joe called out, his voice rough. Roland appeared almos

The days leading up to the launch party for Joe’s new corporation were filled with relentless work, late nights, and endless planning. The fact that things had been stable contributed to making Joe’s planning easier. There were no threats, no near misses, and no weird messages. Life, for a brief moment, felt… calm. This made Joe feel relaxed. A day before the launch, Joe and John drove to the new corp’s headquarters to finalize preparations. The building itself was modern and striking—sleek lines of glass and steel that gleamed in the sunlight. As Joe stepped out of the car, his gaze swept across the building, and a rare smile tugged at his lips. John stood beside him, hands in his pockets, and observed Joe’s quiet pride. “You know,” John began, breaking the silence, “your father would be proud.” Joe turned to him, a small laugh escaping. “You think so?” “Yeah,” John said sincerely. “Not just proud, Joe—he’d be impressed. You’re doing something he never could. You’re tur