Sylvester stepped out of the taxi and slammed the door shut a little harder than necessary."Next time, get your damn change ready before you get in," the driver grumbled before speeding off, leaving Sylvester standing there with his fists clenched.“Ridiculous,” he muttered, suppressing the anger that was building up inside of him. The man had the audacity to raise his voice over a fare dispute, acting as if Sylvester couldn’t pay. If he weren’t trying to live a civilized life, that man would be missing a few teeth right now.He exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “I need a car.” Relying on taxis was starting to irritate him, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford one. He could quite literally buy half of the city if he wanted to. The only thing stopping him was his morality and the need for humility.Brushing the thought aside, he turned toward the towering glass building ahead. Emily’s company…the empire she had built with her own hands.As soon as he stepped inside, the receptionist

The drive home bugged Emily with all kinds of possibilities.Everything that she and Gladys talked about were life changing, and in all her years of building a business, laboring tirelessly, both physically and mentally, she had never had this kind of insight.She almost felt like she didn’t deserve it.However, this was life.A door to opportunities had just been open to her, and she was going to dive through it like it was an Olympic sport, and there was the medal for going through it the fastest.As soon as she got home, she had a plethora of information to share with her husband.“Oh, honey!!” she called in a sing song voice.Sylvester, who was sitting on the couch looking like a child that lost his pet rabbit, immediately tried to cover up his disdain and plastered a smile on his face.But Emily was a smart woman, and she caught up to his act before he could get away with it.“Is something wrong?” she asked, her face pinching into a frown.“No, no, darling. Back from Gladys alrea

The morning after their intimate night together, Sylvester lay awake, staring at the wooden ceiling of their cabin, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the woman beside him. Emily’s arm was draped over his chest, her body warm against his side, and for the first time in a long while, he felt…grounded.It had been three years. Three years of distance, of pain, of feeling like a broken man. And yet, last night had shattered that invisible wall between them. Sylvester, all his life, had never known what he was. He never thought about an identity, or doing something for someone or any real purpose.He had two motivations.His hungry belly, and the need for things to be done.As long as there was a need, his desire to help filled that need. Now, it was more. His life felt like more than just another reason to do something, because there was Emily in it.He turned his head slightly, looking at Emily. Her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted in sle

Sylvester lay on the couch, his body heavy with exhaustion but his mind too sharp to rest. The trip had been refreshing, yet as soon as they returned home, the weight of his responsibilities came crashing back. He had too much on his plate—his health, the impending war, and now, his wife's growing business empire.His phone buzzed.He sighed, grabbing it lazily, but his expression changed when he saw the caller ID. Gladys.Straightening up, he answered. “Gladys, to what do I owe this honor?”A soft chuckle came from the other end. “Oh, don’t flatter me, Sylvester. I wanted to check on you first. How’s your health? Emily told me you needed rest.”Gladys wasn’t just a high profile connection to someone like Sylvester.While Sylvester was a businessman himself, at some point, especially when he delved into the world of cultivation, he began to have less and less time for his business.That was when he met Gladys.When he entrusted the full assets of his company to her, he concluded that

The room was dimly lit, the single bulb above casting flickering shadows across the cold concrete walls. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made men sweat before a single question was even asked.Sylvester sat in his chair, watching.His body was weak, the strain of his recent battles weighing down on him, but he didn’t need strength to control this room. His presence alone was enough.In front of him, tied to a chair, was the spy, his face bruised, his clothes disheveled. Across from the captive, Sylvester’s three students stood in a loose semicircle, their expressions hard.Katherine tapped a blade against her palm. Geral cracked his knuckles. Verity leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with relative disinterest.The spy, to his credit, held out longer than most would.But Sylvester had time.And his students had patience.“Let’s go over this again,” Geral said, stepping forward. “Who sent you?”The man spat blood onto the floor. “I told you already. Brad Pad