By the time Jaden reached home, the city had already quieted into its midnight hush. It was past eleven, the streets around their neighborhood lit only by the occasional pool of pale yellow from a streetlamp. He eased open the front door, careful not to make a sound.Inside, the apartment was still. The faint nightlight in the hallway cast a soft glow on the walls. Selena and Mia had long since fallen asleep.Ever since the accident at the Greyfield construction site, Selena’s nerves had been frayed to the breaking point. She had paced the house through both nights, unable to close her eyes for more than a few minutes. Every time Jaden left, she carried the weight of dread on her shoulders. Tonight, though, exhaustion had finally won. With the investigation in motion, and nothing else she could do but wait, she had slipped into much-needed rest.Jaden stepped into their bedroom as quietly as his training allowed, unbuttoning his shirt without so much as a creak from the floorboards. H

The conference room was thick with despair. Selena’s executives slumped in their chairs, their faces drained of color as if the walls themselves had closed in. Selena sat stiffly at the head of the table, her knuckles white from how tightly she clutched the edge. It felt like the world had just collapsed on her shoulders, and no one knew where to turn.The door opened.Jaden stepped inside, his sharp gaze sweeping the room. The despondent atmosphere hit him instantly. He frowned. “What happened?”All eyes turned to Selena. Her voice was strained as she relayed everything — Luke Harper’s accusations, the indefinite hiatus, and the threat to strip Rift Corporation of the Greyfield project. By the time she finished, even repeating the words made her chest ache.Jaden’s brows drew together, his expression darkening with every sentence. “Nobody died in this incident,” he said flatly. “It was a workplace accident, not negligence on the scale they’re painting. MEM is being abnormally harsh.”

Selena hurried forward, forcing a professional smile as she greeted, “Good day, Director Vugan. What a surprise to see you here!”Larry’s lips pulled into a wide grin, his round face glowing with enthusiasm. “President Verrick, where’s Mr. Rift?”Selena hesitated, her palms beginning to sweat. Her instincts screamed at her that this man had not come all the way here simply to share tea. She fidgeted slightly, lowering her voice in a rushed apology. “Director Vugan, I hope my husband didn’t say anything earlier that offended you. If he did, please don’t take it to heart. I’ll personally apologize on his behalf.”Larry blinked in bewilderment, then suddenly burst into booming laughter. “Offend me? Apologize? Hahaha, President Verrick, you must be mistaken! I’m honored, not offended. I’m here because Mr. Rift invited me. Look here—” he held up the ornate wooden box in his pudgy hands, “—I even brought the finest tea leaves from my collection. A meeting with him deserves no less.”Gasps r

Jaden nodded once, his calm expression a mask that concealed the storm raging beneath his eyes. He shifted his gaze to Larry, his tone like steel striking stone.“The team Luke Harper led was not only negligent,” Jaden said, every word deliberate, “they abused their authority to trample Rift Corporation. Director Vugan, I want a response today. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Today.”The weight of his voice crushed the room into silence.Larry felt his throat tighten, a bead of sweat sliding down his temple. He had assumed this was just another workplace dispute—paperwork, complaints, the usual corporate mess. But this wasn’t a petty quarrel. Negligence, sabotage, and outright abuse of power had converged into something larger, darker.And Luke Harper had stepped directly into the lion’s den.Larry’s lips parted, dry, his voice unsteady. “R-rest assured, Mr. Rift. I’ll… I’ll summon him immediately. He’ll explain himself here and now.”His trembling fingers dug into his pocket, pulling ou

Nora insisted they eat in the main dining hall. She loathed the suffocating silence of private rooms, preferring instead the noisy rhythm of life that came with crowded restaurants. The clatter of chopsticks, the hiss of sizzling pans, the scent of garlic butter and fresh seafood in the air—it calmed her in ways silence never could. So the Rift family settled near the center of Sally’s Seafood, one of the busiest establishments in the district. Their table quickly filled with steamed crab, buttered lobster tails, and shrimp served straight off the skillet, the shells still crackling from the heat. For the first time in weeks, the family allowed themselves to unwind. Smiles were exchanged, lighthearted jokes tossed across the table. Laughter mingled with the noise of strangers, a rare pocket of peace in their turbulent lives. But above them, in a private room cloaked by one-way glass, another scene unfolded. A man in a flawless white suit leaned casually against the tinted window,