“Enough,” Miles said, voice low and calm. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t hiss. The sentence itself was the threat. He spoke like he owned the room. And perhaps, he did.Everyone saw the movement in full: the new kid who’d landed a dozen blows and left four men groaning, stepping in without bravado, without a sound. The hand that gripped Carson’s wrist was steady, unflinching. The eyes that looked up at Carson were a black lake that had swallowed fire. There was no shouting, no bravado—just a quiet, deliberate stillness that made parts of the crowd lean forward as if something sacred might be broken.Carson’s grin twitched, then snapped. “You…” he began, then tried to wrench his arm free. But Miles’ hand was like iron and the force of his grip was crushing Carson’s bones. “Get off me, you little—”Miles tightened his grip. He bent his head, close enough that Carson’s breath fogged his cheek. “You hit a girl,” he said. “You disgrace every person in this alley. You think your name gives

The convoy bombinated along Fifth Avenue, black SUVs gliding in perfect formation as if they’d rehearsed the route a hundred times. From inside the car, the city looked the same yet different—yellow cabs, flashing billboards, steam rising from manholes. But for Gary, it wasn’t just the same old New York. It was home.After four months in China—four months buried in the suffocating secrets of the Wang Island, with its laboratories and cages and experiments that haunted him even when he closed his eyes—this was what he’d longed for. A skyline that didn’t smell like antiseptic and blood. A street where people shouted because they were late for work, not because they were begging not to be dissected.Gary leaned his elbow on the window frame, his eyes roaming over the blur of city life. He whispered, almost to himself, “I missed this place.”Serena shifted beside him. Her tablet rested across her knees, a dozen notifications blinking, but for once she wasn’t scrolling. She’d been watchin

Gary let the silence hang for a moment after his first question. His voice had been even, steady, but the gum‑chewing receptionist at the counter clearly didn’t care. Gary gently tapped the counter, “Hello, lady. Do you see me?”She tilted her head, snapped her gum louder, and gave him a look that cut across the room like a bad perfume.“Sir, I already said..” she dragged out the word like it was a chore, “...you’re not welcome here. You may go away.”Gary’s brows twitched, though his face remained composed. He repeated himself, slower this time, his tone crisp with authority. “Is your CEO in her office?”The receptionist, perhaps twenty‑four at most, leaned back in her chair, her cheap bangles clinking as she folded her arms. She sized him up from head to toe. True, he didn’t look poor—his coat was cut too well, his shoes were too sharp, his presence too commanding. But names carried heavier weight than fabric, and to her, this was the same loser ex‑husband the Lancaster whispers ha

The ride to the police station was humiliating. Miles was dragged like a criminal, shoved into the back of the police van with his wrists bound, while Mrs. Heather sat smugly in the front seat, muttering the whole way.“Serves you right, you little rat,” she spat, glancing back at him as if he were filth. “You’ll sleep in a cell tonight and learn your lesson. Maybe then you’ll understand this isn’t China where you can just swing your fists like some kung-fu movie. This is America. You don’t mess with people here. And you definitely don’t touch Mr. Carter’s son.”Miles said nothing. He leaned back against the hard metal of the van, eyes half-lidded, his breathing steady. The cuffs dug into his wrists, but they might as well have been thread. He could snap them off in seconds. But what good would that do? This was beneath him. He wasn’t about to destroy his chance at a normal life. He was a Wang. These petty tricks, these cuffs, these insults—they were shadows of a world too small for h

Soon, the officers grabbed Miles’ arm and tried to yank him away, but for some mysterious reason, this young lad was as still as stone. He was practically immovable. No matter how they pulled or jerked, it felt like trying to drag a statue bolted into the ground.“I wish to call my lawyer.” Miles finally called out to the chief officer, his voice calm, even dignified.The room stiffened. The chief, a bulky man with a belly hanging over his belt and eyes that squinted with arrogance, turned around slowly. His gaze locked on Miles, expecting fear, but what he saw instead unsettled him. Miles stood firm, back straight, eyes calm, like he wasn’t the one in handcuffs at all.“The Fifth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution gives everyone the right to remain silent,” Miles said, his voice low but carrying across the station. “But I was forced to answer questions against my will. You broke the law. And when the law is broken, there’s a price to pay.”Gasps filled the room. Officers exchanged co