The glass of whiskey in Nathaniel Aldric’s hand trembled as he sat in his grand office, staring at the numbers on his laptop screen. It didn’t make sense. The accounts were empty. Millions…no, billions…gone. His fingers curled into a fist, his nails biting into his palm. His chest burned, and when he coughed, he tasted iron. Blood stained his sleeve, but he barely noticed. His mind was spinning. “Nate, my man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” The office door swung open, and a group of men strolled in like they owned the place. His friends. The ones he had trusted with everything. Ethan, the man he had known since college, laughed as he plopped down on the leather couch, completely at ease. “You should relax,” Ethan said, stretching his arms. “Stress isn’t good for your health.” The others chuckled, their smiles sharp, their eyes colder than ice. Another man, Damien, leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. “Damn, Nate, you look like shit. Though, to be fair, you’v

Laughter. Loud. Familiar. Nate’s eyes snapped open. His breath hitched. He wasn’t on the cold floor. He wasn’t coughing up blood. He wasn’t dying. He was sitting at a large dining table, surrounded by people. His heart pounded as he looked around. The room was bright, golden light bouncing off the chandelier above. Plates of untouched food sat before him. Wine glasses clinked. The air smelled of roasted meat, expensive liquor, and cologne. Ethan Maddox sat across from him, laughing as he leaned back in his chair. Owen Carter, on his left, smirked at something someone had said. His hands clenched the edge of the table. This wasn’t right. He was supposed to be dead. But everyone was here. His friends. The ones who had betrayed him. Nate’s pulse raced. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. He pinched his own arm under the table. Hard. Pain shot through him. His stomach churned. This was real. He was here. But how? Ethan’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “

Nate stepped into the mansion, letting the chauffeur shut the door behind him. The house was quiet except for the faint clinking of cutlery from the dining room. His eyes swept over the space…nothing had changed. Same expensive furniture. Same grand chandeliers. Same perfect, picture-book life. But it was all a lie. His wife, Serena, sat at the long dining table, smiling as if nothing in the world could ruin her mood. The table was covered with dishes, a feast laid out like some celebration. And at the very center, steam curled from a cup of tea. His stomach twisted. “Welcome home, darling,” Serena said, her voice warm, eyes soft. She stood gracefully, hands clasped in front of her. The wife who had poisoned him. The woman he had loved more than anything. Once upon a time, he would have walked straight to her, taken her in his arms, kissed her forehead, and told her how much he had missed her. But now? Now, all he felt was hatred. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he sa

Nate woke up feeling lighter than he had in years. His mind was sharp, his body well-rested. No nausea. No dizziness. No sluggishness weighing him down. It was the first night in a long time that he had slept without that poison creeping through his veins. He sat up, glancing around the unfamiliar bedroom. He had chosen to sleep in one of the guest rooms…far away from Serena. Sharing a bed with his killer had never been an option. He threw off the covers and walked into the bathroom, turning on the lights. The mirror reflected back a man who barely looked like himself. His hair was overgrown, messy in a way that made him look unkempt rather than rugged. His beard was thick, uneven. And his clothe…wrinkled, dull, a size too big. He looked nothing like a billionaire. More like someone who had given up on himself. He let out a breath, gripping the counter. That was the old Nate. The blind fool who had let himself be played. That man was dead. He pulled out his phone and di

Serena sat in her office, fingers tapping impatiently against the glass desk. The space around her was massive, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. The building itself…her building…stood tall, a monument to the empire Nate had helped her build from the ground up. A high-end fashion and luxury brand, known for exclusive designs, limited edition collections, and premium beauty products. It was a business that screamed power, dripping in wealth, worth hundreds of millions. Workers moved like a well-oiled machine below, rushing through the hallways, carrying fabric samples, documents, and tablets loaded with schedules. Models strutted through the lower levels where the latest collections were being prepped for an upcoming show. Executives spoke in hushed tones, closing million-dollar deals. Everything was perfect. Just as she had designed it to be. This was her own world where she ruled. And yet…Serena felt nothing but anger. She couldn’t sit still. She had