The photograph Copper had placed on the desk was old, the colors faded to a dreamlike softness. It showed two young men, arms slung around each other's shoulders, grinning in front of a half-built construction site—the earliest skeleton of what would become a Hart Global landmark. One was undeniably Philip Hart, his eyes alight with the infectious, rebellious energy Bella remembered from Jackson. The other was a younger, softer-featured Peniel, his smile not yet honed to its current razor's edge."This," Copper said, his finger hovering over the image of the two friends, "is where it all begins. And where it all went wrong."For the next hour, Copper wove a tale not of stock portfolios and corporate bylaws, but of ambition, ideology, and a friendship curdled by power. He spoke of two brilliant, driven young men: Philip, the visionary builder who believed in legacy and heart, even chaos; and Peniel, the brilliant strategist who believed in order, control, and the cold perfection of s

The grey sedan pulled into a secured, unmarked bay of a low, windowless building that blended seamlessly into the industrial sprawl. The two men carried their bags of groceries—now a cover story that felt absurd—through a series of key-carded doors, descending into a sterile, hushed environment that smelled of antiseptic and filtered air.The heart of the facility was a glass-walled intensive care unit, a stark island of light and quiet beeping in the subterranean silence. Inside, Jackson lay on a medical bed, a network of wires and tubes connecting him to a symphony of machines that charted the fragile rhythm of his existence. He was swathed in bandages, his face pale and still beneath an oxygen mask. The angry, livid burns that peeked from the dressings told a story of an inferno barely survived.Standing vigil at his side was Ruth. Her posture was rigid, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles were white. She was not the "Madam" of cold command here; she was a ghost, a woman s

Sunlight, thin and pale, pried its way through Bella’s blinds, striping the confetti-strewn floor of her room. The cheerful debris of the party felt like a cruel joke in the harsh morning light. The echoes of laughter had faded, leaving behind the familiar, hollow silence—but it was different now. It was a silence charged with purpose, not just grief.She hadn't slept. Snippets of conversation with Copper, images of a grey sedan, and the memory of Jackson’s laugh played on a relentless loop behind her eyes. Before the rational part of her mind could talk her out of it, she grabbed her phone and called Copper.He answered on the second ring, his voice alert. He hadn’t slept much either.“I heard something,” she said, dispensing with greetings. Her voice was low, urgent. She told him everything—the grocery store, the two men, their exact words, the sedan, the frustrating chase. “They were talking about him, Copper. Someone named ‘Madam’ believes he’ll survive. They have a protocol. I th

Ruth’s sobs were real—the agony of two decades of loss compounded by the fresh horror of nearly losing him again. But her awareness was also razor-sharp. The secure alert on her phone had buzzed discreetly ten minutes before she arrived: Jackson’s inner circle are there right now. The ones who loved him, not the empire.This was her chance. Jackson's condition had not really improved as much as she wanted it to and they were already preparing for his transfer to a much better equipped facility. But she could no longer protect him alone. She needed allies on the outside, people who would move heaven and earth for him, not for a legacy. And these grieving kids in their obvious car, according to her investigations were her best, perhaps only, shot.She let the tears fall freely, her shoulders shaking with genuine emotion. But her words, whispered so softly only the cold granite could hear, there was a calculated message.“I’m sorry,” she breathed, her voice thick. “I’m so sorry I failed

The decision solidified in the quiet car. They would stay. They would watch. As James turned off the engine to conserve gas and blend in, the four of them settled into an uneasy vigil, their eyes fixed on the garage exit and the distant Veridian fence.But Hailey felt a sudden unease which she couldn't quite explain. She felt they were not alone, had suggested that they leave that moment.However, James wouldn't buy that either. He wanted to know what the lady they had seen at the cemetery was up to, and how she was connected to Jackson."Come on, Hailey. Are we going to leave without finding out anything?" He said, his frustration towards Hailey evident from the tone of his voice.Even Nancy, this time around seemed to agree with James that they shouldn't just leave. "If we had come all the way from the cemetery down to this place, then, we at least deserve to go back with something."But Nancy had barely finished what she was saying when the atmosphere changed.The attack was swift