The room plunged into chaos.Guests murmured in panic. Some tried to leave, only to be halted by armed guards now blocking all exits. Others clutched their valuables, fearing more than a simple auction heist.Inside Javier’s suite, the screen continued displaying the masked intruder.The thief was cloaked in all black, face covered by a sleek obsidian mask. His gloved hand held the Starfire Crown, the other rested on Lady Hawthorne’s shoulder. She sat restrained, her expression composed, but a dark bruise was forming along her jaw.A voice crackled over the live feed—digitally altered and cold.“Good evening, Mr. Everhart. I presume you’re watching.”Javier didn’t flinch. He remained seated, elbows resting calmly on the armrests of his chair. Edward stood beside him, tense, already reaching for his concealed communicator.The voice continued.“You’ve drawn quite the attention tonight. But I wonder… is it worth the price you’ll pay?”Javier tilted his head slightly, studying the feed.

Rain fell hard in the city of Arkenridge the next morning, as if the skies mourned something unseen. The air smelled of steel and forgotten storms. Deep beneath Javier Everhart’s estate, the private war room came to life—screens illuminating one by one, lines of encrypted data crawling across them.Javier stood alone before the central display, sleeves rolled up, jaw set with focus. Behind him, Lady Hawthorne entered, her presence quiet but commanding.“You haven’t slept,” she noted, eyeing the holographic maps and photographs. “Even shadows are afraid of what you're planning, Everhart.”He didn’t turn. “Sleep won’t help me trace a ghost.”Lady Hawthorne approached, eyes scanning the large digital map litt

The golden light of the restaurant glowed warm through the rain-streaked windows. La Rue d’Or, the most exclusive French fine-dining establishment in the city, was known not only for its five-star cuisine, but for its notoriously selective clientele. A place where wealth wasn't just expected—it was paraded.Javier Everhart stood by the front desk, calm as ever in a dark grey coat, raindrops still clinging to his shoulders. Beside him stood Valerie, her midnight-blue dress sculpted elegantly to her frame, hair pinned neatly. She had been reluctant when Javier suggested dinner. Reluctant, but curious.The hostess glanced up briefly from her reservation book, her smile brittle. She gave Javier a once-over. His coat was tailored but subtle, and he wore no flashy watch or designer labels—nothing that screamed money. Just presence. Unassuming. Quiet.Too quiet."Do you have a reservation, sir?" she asked, pen tapping lightly on the book.Javier nodded once. “Yes. A table for two under the n

Javier rose from his seat with the same quiet grace he always carried, like a storm building beneath the surface of calm waters. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. Not even as the first camera flashed from the hallway behind the manager, followed by the unmistakable sound of hurried footsteps and shouting voices.Valerie reached instinctively for his arm. “Javier…”He looked at her and offered the briefest of smiles. “It’s noise. Let them scream.”But she could see it in his eyes—the gears turning. Adrien had moved faster than either of them anticipated. Calling the press was a bold, reckless move. Not for exposure. For destruction.The doors were thrown open again. A swarm of local reporters and tabloid correspondents surged inside, accompanied by two uniformed security guards from the restaurant.“Mr. Everhart!” one of the reporters shouted, phone camera trained on him. “Is it true you were ousted from Everhart Industries? That Adrien Volaris is now interim CEO?”Another fired off a

Everhart Innovation Expo – Grand Horizon HotelThe ballroom sparkled with crystal chandeliers and superficial charm. The room buzzed with the elite—investors, board members, tech giants—all sipping champagne and pretending to change the world.Javier stood near the back, alone, deliberately understated in a charcoal suit. His presence barely registered with most. Just another exiled heir clinging to past glories.He was invisible.And that was exactly how he wanted it.“Is that him?” a voice sneered behind him. Javier didn’t turn.“Yeah, that’s Javier Everhart,” another said with mock sympathy. “He used to run Everhart Industries before he got tossed out. Now he probably fixes printers for a living.”Laughter followed.“You know what’s sad?” the woman continued. “He still shows up to events like this. As if he belongs.”Javier said nothing.Just ahead, Adrien Everhart held court near the main stage, radiant in a tailored white tuxedo, surrounded by fawning executives and journalists.