They didn't poison anything," Vanessa snapped. "They just helped me see reality." "Reality?" Damian stood up again, fists tight at his sides. "And what reality is that?" "This one." She gestured around the room. "Look at where you are, Damian. This isn't a temporary setback. This is serious. The government is involved. Your accounts are frozen." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I'm not done yet. This isn't my downfall, okay?" He took a step forward, desperation lining his voice. "I'm going to bounce back. I just need more time. But I can't do it without you." "I'll figure it out. I always do." He insisted. "How?" she challenged, crossing her arms. "What's your plan? Tell me exactly what you're doing to fix this!" His throat constricted instantly, and he swallowed hard, trying to formulate something that sounded even halfway reasonable. But it didn’t come. "I... I'm still working on—" he stammered, "—I… I’m working on it, okay? It’s complicated—" To his s

The boardroom erupted into chaos. “You bastard!” Mr. Richard slammed his fist on the marble table, his face turning red with rage. “How could you do this to us?” Mrs. Patterson’s hands shook as she pointed at Mr. Chen. “We trusted you! We brought you into our circle!” “Twenty years of friendship down the drain,” Dr. Williams spat, his voice filled with disgust. "For what? A pat on the head from him?” Mr. Chen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He knew they’d react this way, but he didn’t have any other option. Ethan had trapped him that night at the bar, showing him proof about their secret meeting and basically forcing him to turn on his friends. “The chairman’s going to find out about your little rebellion,” Ethan had said with that cold smile of his. "And trust me, he’s going to make all of you pay for it. But I can help you get out of this mess.” Ethan had made it seem like Mr. Chen only had two choices: either sell out his fr

The door to the Heritage Club’s Private Lounge creaked open, and Ethan stepped inside as casually as if he owned the place, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “What the hell?” Mr. Richard’s voice cracked with shock, his face going pale as he stared at the doorway in complete disbelief. Curious to know who that was, the quiet murmur of conversation died instantly as every head in the room snapped toward the entrance. The moment they saw it was Ethan, standing there with a smile as if he was invited there, their jaws dropped. The Heritage Club’s Private Lounge was the perfect setting for secret meetings. Rich mahogany panels covered the walls, and heavy burgundy curtains blocked any view from outside. Leather armchairs were arranged in a perfect circle around a low glass table. Decanters filled with expensive liquor sat on side tables, and the air smelled of whiskey and cigars. It was the kind of place where million-dollar deals were made with handshakes and where the city’s

The Private Lounge had descended into chaos. The shareholders sat frozen in their chairs, staring at their phones with expressions of pure terror. Meanwhile, Mr. Richard and the other employees looked around in complete confusion, unable to understand what had suddenly turned their confident allies into trembling wrecks. “What’s in the messages?” Mr. Richard asked. “What could possibly be so bad that you all look like you’ve seen ghosts?” But none of the shareholders could bring themselves to speak. How could they explain that Ethan had somehow uncovered their darkest secrets? Each message contained detailed evidence of their crimes—crimes that would destroy them if they ever became public. Mrs. Patterson’s message contained bank records showing how she’d been embezzling funds for three years, funneling money into offshore accounts. The evidence was so detailed it included transaction dates, account numbers, and even photos of forged documents. Mr. Harrison’s phone displayed p

The black iron gates of Mr. Chen's mansion opened slowly as Ethan's car pulled up the curved driveway, revealing the compound. Ethan parked beside a fountain that sparkled under carefully placed landscape lights. Mr. Chen was already waiting at the door when Ethan stepped out of his car. Mr. Chen's fist lit up. "Mr. Ethan! Welcome to my humble home," he called out, arms spread wide in greeting. His smile seemed genuine, but Ethan knew better than to trust it. "Thank you for the invitation," Ethan replied, taking in the massive house with its stone columns and huge windows. He let out a breath and said, “Damn, this place is like a freaking castle, Mr. Chen.” Mr. Chen chuckled. "You flatter me, Mr. Ethan." "Please, come in,” he said, extending a hand. Ethan gave a small nod and followed him inside. The grand entrance hall was massive, with a crystal chandelier hanging from a ceiling two stories high. The marble floor gleamed so perfectly Ethan could almost see his reflection