Jackson stood alone in a room within the vault where he had received the gifts from his father on his twenty-second birthday—the private sanctum once used by his father, Philip Hart. He had been so restless since he and Mr. Copper returned from meeting with Mr. Whitaker and he really wanted to know more about what he had come into.Mr. Copper had asked him to go into that room, a place where according to him, Philip, his father meditated while also trying to figure out what the whole flameborn was all about.“You should consider yourself lucky that you even had people who were there to guide you. Your father had no one and did most of the findings about the Flameborn by himself.” Mr. Copper had said.But to Jackson, there was really nothing lucky about what he had stepped into. The feeling of carrying something strange and ancient within him was not part of what he had planned for his life and with Mr. Whitaker’s warning that what he was now carrying within him would attract enemies,

Inspector Evans Tony, now running a covert personal investigation into Jackson Hart, sat behind the wheel of his sedan in the university's parking lot. His mind churned with names: Whitelists… Red Tails… Don Lewis… Philip Hart. Each one layered over the next like pages of an unread prophecy.He had spent the whole of the night trying to link everything to the things he was suspecting about Jackson, but nothing was connecting the dots. At a point, he felt exhausted because he was not getting anything meaningful from sneaking into the C.I.R.R.But while he was going some of the information about Don Lewis and the Whitelists, he stumbled upon a beautiful lady in the Lewis’ family and it was none other than Samantha Lewis.According to his findings, she was the last child and only daughter of Don Lewis. Student of the university. Her brother Jack Lewis had also popped up who was formerly linked to multiple disciplinary cases—until they were all mysteriously dropped.Evans knew better than

Jackson instinctively pulled his hand away, stepping back. “It’s nothing,” he said too quickly, trying to hide it in his pocket. He had been so carried away by the warmth of the moment that he had forgotten about the Flameborn sigil. He had been concealing cleverly since he got it and wasn’t yet ready to tell his friends about even if for sure he was going to tell them in the end.Bella’s face hardened instantly. “Are you going to lie to me again?”Her voice wasn't raised—but it didn’t need to be. Every syllable was laced with betrayal.She didn’t need anyone to tell her that whatever that mark is on Jackson’s palm wasn’t ordinary. It looked ancient, and nothing like a scar from an ordinary wound.And so, she already knew that Jackson was hiding something from them again just like he did during the time he was pretending to be mystery billionaire.“Bella—” Jackson started.She took a step back. “No. Don’t ‘Bella’ me. Do you remember how it felt when I found out you were the Mystery B

After the calculated withdrawal of Congressman Fabian Banks—thanks to Jackson’s secret meeting and financial leverage—Patrick's campaign resumed and surged like wildfire through a dry field.On major streets, crowds gathered during his speeches, chanting slogans. On social media, celebrities and influencers replaced the neutral tone of politics with glowing support. Even former critics began to soften their tone, calling him “the last of the honest breed.”However, as the screens in front of Senator Moore flashed clips from Stones’ rally—waves of youth, working-class citizens, and progressives cheering his name like he was already president, it made Moore’s skin crawl.He slammed the glass he was holding onto the desk, the ice inside shattering with a harsh crack.His campaign manager stood across from him, nervously fiddling with a tablet. “The numbers are widening, sir. Since Banks dropped out, the undecided voters have swung hard in Stones’ direction.”Moore’s voice was cold. “And

Jackson was seated on the veranda balcony of Sky Tower when Mr. Copper walked in. The young Flame bearer had been trying to enjoy a moment of peace—watching the ocean light stretch across the horizon, his thoughts still tangled as he tried to make a mental note of the student he had fought with in his dream at the beach.He sensed Mr. Copper’s presence before he heard him.“Something’s wrong,” Jackson said, his voice low. “I can feel it.”“You’re right,” Mr. Copper said flatly, walking toward him. “And I need you to listen very carefully.”Jackson turned. His expression immediately shifted when he saw the unusual worry behind Mr. Copper’s eyes.Mr. Copper was yet to tell him about the three foreigners who came into the city two days ago while Jackson was still at the beach enjoying himself with his friends.“We have… visitors in the capital,” Copper began. “Three high-level operatives from China, Russia, and Israel. Arrived under diplomatic immunity. No media, no flags, no political f