Marcus held her gaze for a quiet moment, then gave a faint, reassuring smile — the kind that barely reached his eyes.He gently touched her hand resting on his face, then lowered it with care.“All is fine,” he said in his deep, measured tone.“Just been busy handling a few things. Routine work.”He took a slow sip from the cup she’d brought, using it as a subtle way to close the subject.His wife watched him for a moment longer, her eyes searching his face — as if she knew there was more, but chose not to press it.Instead, she gave a soft nod.“Alright.”She smiled faintly and picked up her own cup, taking a small sip.She took another gentle sip from her cup, then glanced sideways at him, her voice casual but thoughtful.“Has Elijah called?” she asked softly.Marcus paused mid-sip.He lowered the cup slightly, his jaw tightening just a bit — a subtle reaction only someone who knew him deeply would notice.He shook his head slowly.“No,” he said. “Not yet.”She set her cup down gent

The first image showed a young man standing beside a sleek matte-black Rolls-Royce, one hand in his pocket, the other adjusting the button on his velvet blazer. He wore black sunglasses, and his expression was relaxed but powerful. The sky behind him was cloudy, but it made him look even more dramatic — as though he belonged to the storm. The second photo captured him leaning on the balcony of a high-rise penthouse, city lights glowing in the background. He wore a simple white designer shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway. A wristwatch gleamed on his wrist, and his gaze was locked on something in the distance, giving him an air of mystery. The third image was taken at what looked like a luxury car expo — the young man was standing casually beside a red Lamborghini, dressed in a dark green fitted polo and jeans that sat perfectly on his athletic frame. His face was clean-cut, his jawline sharp, hair styled with intentional effortlessness. His lips were slightly parted, caught mid-smile

Meanwhile, at the New Ember Police Station, activity was buzzing near the front entrance of the old administrative building.Felix, dressed with sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows, stood beside a well-dressed woman in her late twenties — the interior designer he had contacted. She wore stylish glasses, a jumpsuit, and held a tablet in one hand, taking notes as she eyed the compound with a sharp, professional gaze.A few officers curiously glanced their way as they talked, the atmosphere already different from the usual rigid police setting.Then came the sound of tires rolling in.A white box van pulled into the station’s courtyard, its back doors swinging open a few moments later to reveal a fully loaded interior of furniture and renovation materials.Inside were neatly wrapped desks, filing cabinets, modern chairs, and even decorative lighting pieces and paint buckets stacked with precision.Felix stepped forward with a smile, nodding to the team inside the van.“Alright, start

Sierra narrowed her eyes slightly, watching the group without saying a word.One of the guys — the one with the messy hair and silver ring-studded fingers — leaned back in his seat, puffing out a cloud of smoke that drifted lazily above his head.He looked around with a lazy smirk, then raised his voice just enough to be heard across the quiet tension in the room.“Waiter — or waitress, whatever…”He exhaled smoke slowly through his nose.“Bring us our usual dish.”The words landed with weight.A few nearby diners paused mid-bite, and even a passing waiter hesitated briefly before nodding quickly and scurrying off toward the kitchen.Betty raised a brow.“Did you hear that? Usual dish?” she whispered.“You mean they come here often? Acting like this?”Sierra’s gaze remained fixed on them, brows slightly drawn.“Apparently,” she said quietly, voice low.“And clearly… no one’s been able to put them in their place.”The men laughed among themselves again, as if they owned the entire sect

Elijah narrowed his eyes as he stared at the missed call notification from Betty. His instincts were already stirring — Betty wasn’t the type to call randomly.He quickly unlocked his phone and hit redial.The call connected within seconds.“Elijah.” Betty’s voice came through the line instantly, and it was shaky — breathless.Elijah’s entire body stiffened.“Yes? What’s wrong?” he asked sharply, his voice immediately alert.Betty didn’t waste a second.“We’re at The Garden Lounge. Some guys came in and started harassing us. Sierra tried to ignore them, but they kept pushing—saying nasty things. One of them slapped her backside, and she slapped him back—then he… he hit her, Elijah. He slapped her across the face. She fell. She’s bleeding.”Elijah’s grip on the phone tightened as Betty's words sank in — each one fueling the fire roaring behind his calm.His voice, low and ice-cold, cut through the call:“What the hell? They hit her? How dare they?”His breathing grew sharper.“Send me