"Ugh!" "Eww!" Sounds of disgust echoed throughout the lobby as guests turned their faces away, horrified. "Blegh!" Some couldn’t stomach the sight, retching on the spot and vomiting onto the polished floor, their faces going pale. But not everyone was repulsed. Several others whipped out their phones, instantly recording. A few were already live-streaming. To them, this chaos was entertainment—something worth sharing with friends, family and viewers across the county and if possible the world. One guest even pulled out a tripod and mic setup with practiced ease, as if he'd known something like this was going to happen. Jimmy noticed it all but made no effort to stop them. If anything, a satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. The more people witnessed this disgrace, the better. "Hey there, my lovely audience and ride-or-die fans around the globe!" a lively voice rang out. It was a young man in a flashy shirt holding his phone high. "It’s your favorite streamer,

"Boss," a guard suddenly approached Jimmy and leaned in, whispering something into his ear. Jimmy’s gaze snapped toward the entrance at once. “Keep going. I’ll be back,” he briskly said to the figures before dashing out of the lobby. “Make way! Move aside!” he barked at the crowd as he approached. Though bewildered, the spectators instinctively parted, clearing a path for him. Jimmy charged through without slowing, disappearing past them. The onlookers—inside and outside—exchanged puzzled glances. What had just happened? Why was Jimmy in such a hurry? What could be going on at the entrance? For a moment, Sebastian and the others were completely forgotten. The focus had shifted entirely. Phones, once pointed at the humiliated trio, were now trained on Jimmy’s back as he ran. Viewers watching the livestreams online were swept into the confusion too. In moments, a ripple of uncertainty spread through social media—questions pouring in from every direction. What had t

"Uncle, your fake self-righteousness makes my skin crawl. Let’s not act like you actually care about the family or that any of this is about helping anyone. You’ve never liked me—you’ve always hated the fact that I’m the heir and not your son! This is nothing more than your bitter jealousy talking!" A cold, biting voice sliced through the room just as George ended his speech. Everyone turned toward the door. Standing there was Sebastian, his expression dark, eyes sharp with fury. Unbeknownst to them, he had arrived moments earlier and had quietly stood outside, listening to everything. He strode into the room and fixed George with an icy glare, his disdain barely concealed. “How dare you compare yourself to me?” he snapped, voice laced with contempt. “Saying I followed in your footsteps? Don’t make me laugh. I’ve made one mistake—just one. In my entire life, this is the only one. But you? You were a walking failure. A complete disgrace. "You messed up again and again, let Gr

Naturally, under different circumstances, the Aldridge family members would’ve hurried after Sebastian—tried to console him, urged him to return to the hall. But this time, no one even budged. Not a single soul gave him so much as a sideways glance. The truth was too heavy. First, he had plunged the entire family into crisis, dragging them down from their prestigious standing among the Tremendous Five. And now, the image they once held of him—of the prodigy, the brilliant future Patriarch—had shattered. What they’d believed to be his talent and achievements turned out to be a carefully crafted illusion, orchestrated by him and Arthur, making them look like fools for not doubting any of them even for one day. Though the words had only come from Asher, Arthur's swift decision to name him heir without letting him proceed to present the proof he said he had, was all the confirmation they needed. Arthur might have believed that by acting quickly, he could once again suppress the trut

WHOOSH! A sharp gust of wind suddenly swept through the sanctuary. In the blink of an eye, Roman was yanked off his feet by an invisible force and dragged straight to Elira. A dark aura swirled around her, pulsing with menacing energy. She curled her fingers slightly, and Roman immediately felt an invisible grip wrap around his throat. His eyes bulged, rolling back slightly, his face flushing a deep red as he coughed violently. "Who are you?" Elira asked, her voice low and threatening, murderous intent radiating off her. "Are you the one who killed Eryndor?" That was more like a rhetorical question though as she didn't feel any energy emanating from him, and from the looks of it, he wasn’t someone capable of such a feat. The person who’d killed Eryndor wouldn’t be caught in a chokehold this easily. Still, she asked, just in case. He could have helped. And to her, an accomplice was just as guilty. At the thought, her fist clenched tighter. "Ugh!" Roman gasped, his skin erupting