The war room in the eastern wing of the Colton estate buzzed with low-frequency hums from surveillance screens and data panels. The walls, lined with interactive boards and project files, gave the room the gravity of a military command center. Julius stood at the center, coat discarded, sleeves rolled up, and his tie hanging loose like a noose barely holding back his anger. His eyes were on the screen displaying a web of names, transactions, and blurred images.Across the table, Miley sat quietly, her fingers curled around a slim file folder. Her voice broke the silence.“You’re hiding something from me again.”Julius didn’t look away from the screen. “I’m protecting you.”“You’re not,” she said calmly. “You’re shielding me like I’m a breakable doll. But I’m your wife, Julius. Not a bystander. I saw the box. I read the note. I know something is happening.”Julius finally looked at her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, tension swirled between them—tight, frayed, dangerous. The

Julius was pacing anxiously through the entire length of his study, with the glow of the desk lamp casting harsh lines across his face. He had barely slept all night, and the phone saz pressed to his ear like a weapon.“Freeze every account connected to Miley Colton,” he ordered in a low, razor-edged voice. “I want every transfer source traced, every dollar accounted for. And alert the legal team that we may need emergency injunctions if the leaks keep coming.”Lewis’s voice crackled back through the line. “Already on it, sir. We have traced the so-called donations to shell companies set up offshore, but preliminary registry searches show their parent holdings connect to properties and business addresses linked to Delilah and Geoffrey Lemar.”A sharp smile cut across Julius’s lips, gone as quickly as it appeared. “Send me every record. I want sworn affidavits from our accounting team that Miley never authorized anything of that nature.”“Yes, sir.”He ended the call just as Miley

Julius sat in the dim glow of his study, the flash drive plugged into his secure laptop as streams of data scrolled across the screen. Every line was another nail in Delilah and Geoffrey’s coffin… every forged document has been traced, and each dollar bill they had handed to former staff under the Colton Group had been carefully logged.He spoke into his headset, voice low and precise. “Cross-check those wire transfers. Match dates against the leak timeline. I want names, amounts, everything ready by dawn.”A voice crackled back. “Yes sir. Confirmed: the bribes to prison officials originated from an account tied to Geoffrey Lemar’s personal holdings.”“Good.” Julius clicked open another folder, listening to the old recordings from Kenneth’s side businesses. He spliced them, building a timeline: a story that showed exactly how Kenneth, from behind bars, orchestrated the theft of old records and their manipulation into something damning.When his phone buzzed with Kenneth’s number, Jul

Julius stood in the shadowed corner of the old study, the heavy drapes drawn against the bright afternoon sun, as Delilah was ushered in by one of the estate guards. Her eyes were red-rimmed, mascara smudged from tears, her posture trembling but defiant as she spotted him by the fireplace.“Julius, please…” She began, voice cracking, but he cut her off with a low, cold command.“Sit down.”She sank into the leather chair, clutching her purse like a lifeline. He didn’t move from his place, staring at her with the same ruthless calm that had once charmed half the Guild’s boardrooms into silent respect.“You think your crocodile tears matter to me now?” He asked. His voice was quiet, but the power coiled beneath it made her flinch.“I was… desperate. Geoffrey, he… he pushed me. Kenneth promised—”Julius set a thick envelope on the side table, letting it thump against the polished wood.“Those are the documents freezing every single account linked to you, Delilah. Offshore trusts, the L

The hospital clock ticked with cruel indifference.Six hours…Julius stood in the same hallway where he had been pacing since they wheeled Miley away. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw rigid with exhaustion and fury. He had asked, requested and almost begged multiple times to see her. Each time, the answer was one of the two variations: “She’s still unconscious”, or worse, “We’re still running some tests.”It was now well past sundown, and the vending machine lights flickered in the corridor. The nurse behind the counter averted her gaze as he approached again.“I want to see my wife!” Julius growled, his voice low, but the commanding tone of authority made it evident that this man liked to be obeyed under any and all conditions.“Now.”“I… I’m sorry, sir!”The young receptionist stammered. “The doctors are still monitoring her vitals. She’s… she’s not yet conscious.”Julius slammed his palm against the counter. The sound echoed down the sterile hallway, drawing the attention