A week had passed since the Will had been read out, and the estate was much quieter than that day. The storm of voices had faded away, replaced by the whisper of dusk sliding through the high windows. The Colton crest still gleamed in the hall as Julius and Aurelia walked in silence through the ancestral wing, each step echoing on marble that had seen both triumph and betrayal from its own bloodline. They reached the back terrace, which had rows upon rows of Cedar trees as far as the eye could see. Below, scaffolding had begun to rise. A dozen workers were unloading crates from trucks at the perimeter, and blueprints for the new plan were hanging from temporary posts.Julius leaned his forearm against the balustrade, watching the construction below. “I’ve hired contractors and designes as well. They’ll start repairing the roofline by Monday. The west wing needs structural work… but once that’s done, we can talk about interiors. Please, do share any plans you have for your wing to

Julius kicked the man down with brutal force, the sole of his boot slamming into his chest. The attacker crashed to the floor face-first, a heavy thud echoing through the room. The man groaned, clutching his side, writhing like a wounded animal on the hardwood floor.Julius turned immediately to Miley.Her eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every shallow breath. She hadn’t moved from the couch corner, knees pulled up like a barricade. Julius strode toward her, his expression hard but his hands soft as he cupped her face.“It’s over,” he murmured. “You’re safe now, Miley. I’m here.”She blinked up at him, trembling, and reached out to hold onto his forearm. “He was going to hit me—he—he would’ve—”“But he didn’t,” Julius said firmly. “Because I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever.”Behind them, the man groaned again.Julius’s eyes snapped back to him.Something wasn’t right. That voice. That sound of pain—it wasn’t unfamiliar.He strode back over to the writhing man,

Quella’s eyes welled with tears as she cradled her cheek, her lips trembling pitifully. “You hit me…” She whispered, still it was loud enough for everyone to hear. Her voice cracked as she turned to Julius, staggering a step toward him. “Julius… I didn’t come here to fight. I just wanted you to understand… I’m scared. I'm all alone…”Miley scoffed, but before she could speak, Quella’s mother stormed forward, eyes blazing. “You should be ashamed,” she snarled at Miley. “That slap was completely unprovoked. You’re out of control, you wild shameless bitch!”“How rude and hysterical!?”Another aunt chimed in, glaring. “No manners at all.”“She’s not fit to be a high class lady, let alone a tramp!” One of the cousins added with a sneer.Miley stood her ground, shoulders square, fists tight at her sides. But her knuckles were white.But before she could say something in her defense, a booming voice echoed. “Enough!”It was Julius who had spoken. His voice didn’t rise, but it cut thro

By the next evening, the gates of the Colton estate looked like a warfront.Protesters lined the fences, voices raised and faces red, waving signs that read JUSTICE FOR QUELLA, SLAP = ABUSE, and MILEY COLTON = CANCELLED!!!A few more aggressive ones threatened economic boycotts—Don’t Buy From Bella Holdings was trending just behind #MonsterInMink. Social media raged in real time. Commentators ranted, influencers raged, and self-appointed moralists declared war.Inside the estate, security was doubled. Even the gardeners had been pulled off rotation.Miley stood near the drawing room window, silent, watching the chaos brew beyond the iron gates. Her phone lay abandoned on the table, its screen still flashing headlines—none of them kind.The walls were closing in.Until a miracle struck.It started small. A clipped, low-quality video. Posted anonymously. It began to circulate on niche forums and discussion threads, until it exploded across the feed.Quella.Drunk, flushed, swaying in a

The butler opened the double door with a graceful bow.“Mr. Colton wants to see you, ma’am.”From the comfortable lounging couch in her sun-drenched drawing room, Delilah barely looked up from her glass of champagne. She had just ended the last round of press conferences, and right now, she was taking some much deserved rest. She waved lazily like she owned the world—and maybe, in her head, she did.“Yeah, yeah. Of course he’s here to beg. It’s what men like him are ready to sell their self respect when the heat gets too real. I think I have bothered him too much by speaking the truth today! But let him wait… my soul isn’t for sale, and in any case, he can’t afford it.”Julius stepped in at that moment, having heard every word.His eyes were calm, but his voice was sharp. “That statement alone tells me how rotten your thinking is.”Delilah arched a brow. “Excuse me? Who are you to say that to ME!”“I’m not here for you, or to argue with you about my position or what I can ans canno