The city was a beehive of frantic activity, but this time, the buzzing wasn't just the usual urban hum. It was the sound of a scandal breaking, a political earthquake shaking the foundations of power.The first tremors hit before dawn. Max, sipping coffee in his penthouse, watched the early morning news channels. Ronald and Lena were already there, their faces illuminated by the glow of multiple screens."Channel 7 is running with it," Lena said, pointing to a screen where a stern-faced anchor read from a teleprompter. "They're calling it 'Lobbygate.' The 'Citizens for a Better Tomorrow' PAC is being accused of funneling illegal campaign contributions through shell corporations. They're naming names, Max. Big names.""Good," Max said, his voice calm. "Let them name names. The bigger the names, the better."Ronald tapped his tablet. "The ethics committee has already announced an emergency session. They've received an anonymous tip with 'overwhelming evidence.' Our package landed exactl

The city, still reeling from the political bombshell Max had dropped, barely had time to catch its breath before another storm brewed. The red alerts on Ronald's tablet painted a grim picture: the Becker twins, cornered and desperate, were making their final, violent move. Max, ever the strategist, had anticipated it."They're coming for us, Max," Ronald's voice was tight, his fingers flying across the tablet's screen, bringing up live feeds from hidden cameras around the Elm Street warehouse.Max stood by the large window of his penthouse, looking down at the sprawling industrial district. His face was calm, but his eyes held a sharp, dangerous glint. "And we're ready for them."He had prepared the Elm Street facility not just for storage, but for a fight. His most loyal men, the ones who had been with him since the beginning, were already in position. Bucky, Ronald's right-hand man and a mountain of muscle, was leading the ground team."Ronald, confirm all entry points are secured,"

The city breathed a collective sigh of relief. The news channels, usually filled with frantic updates on political scandals and gang warfare, now reported on a newfound calm. But for Max, the real work was just beginning. The storm had passed, but its wake needed careful navigation.Max sat in his mansion office, the city lights twinkling below like scattered diamonds. Ronald was on a secure line, his voice low and serious."Alright, Ronald, give me the rundown on Agent Gonzalez," Max instructed, leaning back in his chair."It's worse than we thought for him, Max," Ronald reported. "The internal investigation is in full swing. They've found irregularities in his expense reports, questionable contacts, and a whole lot of unauthorized surveillance. The 'Lobbygate' scandal, as the media calls it, has given them all the leverage they needed.""And his political friends?" Max asked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice."Gone," Ronald stated simply. "Senator Davies, the one who was pushing

“Oh, Max, look at it!” Trisha’s voice was a bright, happy chime, cutting through the low hum of the private jet’s engines. She pressed her face against the thick window, her breath fogging the glass for a moment before she wiped it clear with the back of her hand. Below them, the world was a sprawling tapestry of browns and ochres, jagged mountain ranges giving way to vast, empty plains. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. So… wild.”Max leaned over, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. He kissed the top of her head, the scent of her hair, light and floral, filling his senses. “Wild is one word for it,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping the horizon. His eyes, though softened by the moment, still held that familiar flicker, a quick, almost imperceptible scan of the distant peaks, the cloud formations. It was a habit, a reflex, honed over years of living on the edge. Even now, on their honeymoon, in the most secure private jet money could buy, a part of him was always watc

The rough fabric of the blindfold chafed against Max’s eyes, and the ropes around his wrists dug in deeper with every step. He could hear Trisha’s muffled breathing beside him, her soft whimpers every time she stumbled. The air grew colder, heavier, filled with strange, rich smells – something like frankincense, mixed with old stone and damp earth. Their footsteps, and those of their silent captors, echoed strangely, suggesting high ceilings and vast, empty spaces.“Max?” Trisha whispered, her voice tight with fear. “Where are they taking us?”“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Max whispered back, trying to keep his voice steady, reassuring. “Just keep moving. Stay close.” He tried to feel for her, to brush her hand, but their captors kept a tight grip on them, pushing them forward. The ground beneath his feet changed from rough earth to smooth, cold stone, then to something softer, like worn rugs. He heard the faint sound of water, a distant fountain perhaps, and then a sudden, sharp clang,