Jason’s fists balled, his blood hot under the mask. He wanted to swing, to knock that rose out of Carson’s hand, but he held it in. Stoicism! Stoicism!He was never to forget. Those classes taught him stoicism in situations like these. Control in the storm. Calm in the hurricane.He pulled the mask tighter, his voice low and steady. “You’re real proud of that flower, aren’t you? Do you think it’s gonna buy Mia’s back? Roses ain’t worth shit when a woman’s already lookin’ for the next big check.”Carson’s face twitched, his smirk slipping, but before he could snap back, Carson’s father stepped forward, his presence like a dark cloud rolling in. “This the kid you mentioned?” he asked, his voice smooth, low, like a blade dipped in honey. He tilted his head, sizing Jason up, his green eyes glinting with something cold—amusement, or maybe hunger.“Jason Cole, Echelon Eight’s shiny new toy. Quite the pleasure to meet you in this… quaint little hospital.” His smile was sharp, no warmth, the

Two days.It had been two days since they dragged Rowan Kane out of Obsidian Tech like a dog—cuffs tight, cameras flashing, the whole company watching. Framed for raping April, a lie Lena Aston had spun so beautifully and carefully with a fake video and a cold heart. She’d won.Or so she thought. In her head, she was queen, sittin’ pretty on her throne, laughing at Rowan’s fall. She’d warned him, hadn’t she? She had told him he’d crawl back, begging for mercy, for one more shot at life. Lena didn’t just want him down; she wanted him broken. And she was halfway there. For now, she had broken his legs, confining him to prison cells.She leaned back in her new office —President of Obsidian Tech, a title she’d clawed her way to, stepping over Rowan’s corpse. First, she had Jason Cole, Echelon Eight’s golden boy, wrapped around her finger. Or at least, she thought so. The way he looked at her during that orchestrated dinner just two nights ago — soft eyes, lingering a beat too long — told

The drive to the court was not funny, nor was it long enough to give Lena the time to prepare her mind and heart for whatever was to come.But realistically, no amount of preparation could slow down the rate of her heart beat. It drummed so fast she could feel her veins pulsing inside her skin. She turned to Mrs. Blackson. The woman was even more scared. She had cried all through the trip that she had no more tears to give. So this was it, huh? She had been caught. Did April breach? They had warned April that if she did, she would be severely dealt with. They threatened to kill her little boy who was under a long term care in a hospital, her only reason for going. April had a sad life and her story melted hearts. This gave Lena leverage. If truly April was the one who bailed on them –which seemed to be the only reasonable explanation for why they were caught– then April had better run away from the surface of the earth.Yet, what still nagged at the back of her mind was what Elias Va

Lena Aston stood in the defendant’s box, her wrists aching in cuffs, her heart hammering like a trapped animal. The courtroom air was thick, heavy with whispers and the weight of a hundred plus eyes boring into her. Mrs. Blackson sobbed beside her, her hands trembling. She was a broken mess, her face streaked with mascara. The judge’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and cold.“Order! We’re here for the case of Lena Aston, Mrs. Blackson, Richard Voss, Mr. White, and Obsidian Tech, charged with conspiracy, framing, and supporting sexual assault against April Carter. Representing the defendants, Mr. Elliot Hayes. In opposition, for Ms. April Carter, we have Ms. Margaret Lyle and… Mr. Rowan Kane.”Lena’s blood turned to ice. She stared at Rowan, her ex-husband, standing on April’s side in a faded orange jumpsuit, his cuffs glinting under the courtroom lights. His eyes locked on hers — cold, unyielding. It was as if a storm was ready to break. A storm she was not prepared for.How was h

Lena Aston stood frozen in the defendant’s box, her wrists raw from the cuffs, her heart pounding like a war drum. The courtroom was a pressure cooker — reporters scribbling, cameras humming, whispers crawling up. Mrs. Blackson, her ally at Obsidian, trembled beside her, whispering prayers through tear-streaked cheeks. Across the room, Rowan Kane stood in his prison jumpsuit, his eyes a blade slicing through her. Victoria Lang sat behind him, her midnight-blue gown catching the light, her silver hair coiled like a crown. The judge, a stern woman with gray hair and sharper eyes, leaned forward, her gavel poised. The air was thick, ready to snap.Margaret Lyle, April Carter’s lawyer, had just called Mr. Granger to the stand. Lena’s head snapped up, her stomach twisting. Granger, Obsidian’s CEO, her supposed ally, walked forward, his suit crisp, his steps too calm. He swore in, his voice steady, almost smug. “Greetings,” he said, his eyes skimming the room but dodging Lena’s glare.Ly