Inside the private lounge of Volcano Crest Resort, the atmosphere was rich with lavender incense and fake sincerity. The marble floors gleamed under golden chandeliers, and the faint sound of soft jazz oozed from the walls like a forced smile.At the center of it all sat Nancy Winter, the nation’s sweetheart, dressed in a sleek silk robe and holding a teacup she hadn’t sipped from.Across from her was Tyler Tian, the spoiled son of Eastridge’s city leader.Tyler looked like wealth had dressed him, fed him, and done his thinking for him. Expensive watch, custom shoes, cologne that tried too hard. But behind the practiced grin, something was… off. His eyes were vacant, smile twitching—like a puppet trying to pass as human.The porcelain teacup before her remained untouched, its contents cooling from scalding to tepid. Her lipstick—the same shade as her dress—would leave no mark on it today."Why so tense, Nancy?" Tyler Tian's voice slithered across the space between them. "You look like

The air in the lounge was quiet now. Too quiet.Nancy Winter sat stiffly on the edge of the velvet couch, her hands curled tightly in her lap. Across from her, Tyler Tian sat with that same crooked smile, holding a porcelain teapot like he was hosting a tea party instead of manipulating someone’s future.“I understand,” Tyler said smoothly. “You’re upset. I might’ve come on too strong. It’s my fault.”Nancy glanced at him warily. “So… we’re done here?”He chuckled, pouring her tea. “No, no. Not at all. I still want to invest. Your talent deserves the spotlight.”Nancy’s brows furrowed. “Even after I slapped your contact and walked out?”Tyler shrugged. “That shows fire. Passion. I respect that. Besides, I’m not the type to let one heated moment ruin something beautiful.”Nancy bit her lip, unsure. Everything about him still felt wrong—like a snake slithering in a silk suit.But her phone buzzed in her pocket. A message from her mother:“Hospital called again. The bills went up. We nee

Brent Wyatt whimpered as he hit the floor again, clutching his bruised shoulder. Max stood over him, arms crossed, while two of his men flanked the exit to ensure no one slipped out.“I’ll ask you one last time,” Max growled. “Where. Is. Nancy.”“I told you!” Brent blurted, eyes wide with terror. “Tyler drugged her! He said she had some kind of… condition—and he needed her for it! I didn’t know! I thought it was just a casting deal!”Jack stood to the side, deadly quiet, his arms folded across his chest. The calm before a storm.Rachel gasped. Tina’s mouth dropped open.Max stepped back, fuming. “You little weasel. You sold her out for a few bucks and a shot of champagne!”“I didn’t know!” Brent repeated. “He said he was gonna invest in the film and help her career!”Max turned to Jack. “You heard him. Tyler’s the one behind it. That creep’s been playing house at this resort for weeks—Nancy didn’t stand a chance.”Jack’s jaw clenched, but his voice stayed cold and precise. “Bring Tyle

Tyler Tian leaned back in the lounge chair, arms crossed, smirking like a peacock on parade. The Italian leather creaked beneath him, still bearing the faint imprint of his father's cologne from previous visits."So, he really called my father?" he scoffed, fingernail tapping against his platinum watch. "Let's see how long Mr. Wannabe-Sullivan lasts when the real king shows up."Father will put this commoner in his place, Tyler thought, confidence washing away the momentary doubt. This is Eastridge, our territory.Thomas Tang chuckled beside him, the bruising around his nose turning a deeper shade of purple under the crystal chandelier light. "This is gonna be good. I can already hear Jack crying inside when Mayor Tian takes our side."Tina Parker whispered behind them, her pearl earrings catching the light as she leaned toward Rachel. "Are they… actually serious?"Rachel Young didn't respond. Her eyes were locked on Jack—who remained seated, legs crossed, as calm as ever. His stillne

The ritual room had been cleared, the cloying stench of incense replaced with silence and tension. Nancy Winter now rested under the watchful protection of Max's men, her breathing finally steady after what they'd put her through. Jack Sullivan stood motionless in the center of the room, his shoulders set like stone. His fists still ached—not from the lives he'd taken on his way here, but from the rage still burning beneath his skin. From what they had almost done to her. What they would've done, if he had been just a moment later.And now he stood face-to-face with the mastermind behind it all—the Miracle Doctor.The man looked like he belonged to another century, or perhaps none at all. Robed in long crimson silks layered with beads, bones, and trinkets that whispered against each other when he moved. A gold monocle dangled uselessly from his brow, more affectation than tool. His shoes didn't match. His smirk did."I had hoped to meet you properly," the Memory Doctor said, voice sli