The low, solemn hum of the choir drifted through the air like a soft lament. Their voices, heavy with sorrow, echoed across the churchyard, wrapping the mourners in a cocoon of grief. Rows of black suits and veils rippled in the soft breeze, all gathered in reverent silence for the burial of Mr. Rafael Romanos—the patriarch, the tycoon, the man who built the Romanos name into something that echoed in the city’s corridors of power. Friends, business associates, and political allies had come in droves to pay their respects. The Romanos family stood at the heart of it all, their expressions carved in stone. An hour passed before the final words were spoken, the last handful of dirt thrown into the grave, and the ceremony began to disperse into quiet farewells. Wayne Stark stood slightly apart from the crowd, his presence like an ink blot on an otherwise pristine canvas. His black suit was wrinkled and ill-fitted—an awkward contrast against the luxury that surrounded him. The whispers ha

After a long while, Wayne finally stood up from David’s bedside. He had been silently watching over him the entire time, unaware that his phone—left on silent—had been ringing non-stop. Several missed calls from Lena lit up the screen. She must have been worried after he rushed out of the house, but Wayne had been too consumed to notice. He made his way to the doctor’s office, a nervous smile flickering across his face. “Dr. John… please,” Wayne began, anxiety tightening his chest. “How much do I need to repay for the surgery?” He still couldn’t make sense of it. Why would they go through with such an expensive procedure? Why had David been moved to the VIP section? It was beyond anything they could afford. “Oh, you don’t have to worry, Mr. Wayne. I need to attend to another patient now,” the doctor said casually, stepping away. “The bill’s been fully covered.” Wayne stood frozen. The relief hit like a wave—but it was short-lived. A deeper unease crept in right after. Who would

The mischievous little grin tugging at Wayne’s lips didn’t go unnoticed. Across the room, James—Lena’s cousin—caught it like a scent in the air. His brows pinched in irritation. What’s this idiot smiling about in a situation like this? Does he think none of this will affect him if Lena and her mother get kicked out? Useless clown, he sneered inwardly. He stepped forward, his voice sharp and oily as it cut through the tension. “Grandma,” he began smoothly, “I think it’s time Lena learned to manage things without crutches. She’s close with Peter—Mr. Arnold’s son—so maybe she should lean on him for help. Clearly, her so-called husband won’t be much use. Maybe this’ll help her realize who actually deserves her.” His words stirred the room like a bad smell. James’s confidence didn’t come from courage—it was borrowed. He’d always clung to Jacob’s coattails, and the two shared one thing: a quiet disdain for Lena and an open hatred for Wayne. Especially after Lena refused to sign the div

The next morning, as Lena got ready to leave, Wayne handed her a sealed envelope, neatly wrapped and heavier than it looked. “Don’t worry about anything,” he said quietly. “Just give this to Mr. Arnold—he’ll understand.” She blinked at the envelope, confused. Wayne let her believe it contained something important from her grandfather, Rafael Romanos. Though the two men respected each other but no history of collaboration with the two yet. Lena hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. “Wayne… do you even know how much this contract is worth? And you really think Mr. Arnold will just hand it over… out of respect for Grandfather?” Before she could finish, Wayne move closer gently. “Dear, trust me. We can make this work.” His tone was calm but resolute, the kind of steady assurance that planted a strange sense of comfort in her chest. After nearly three years of marriage, Wayne had never shown this level of presence. It felt… new. Almost intimate. “Are you sure about this?” she asked, s

“Mom, I promise you—I’m going to earn us respect in this family. From now on, no one will dare look down on us.” Lena’s voice trembled as tears welled in her eyes. Her mother sat frozen, staring at the contract in her hands, rereading the figure over and over as though it were an illusion. “Eighty million dollars?” she whispered in disbelief. “Not fifty… but eighty?” She looked up, dazed. “Did Peter do this? Did he convince his father to offer such a massive deal?” A hopeful smile tugged at her lips. “I knew he was capable. Not just handsome, but smart too,” she said with a joyful laugh. Lena let out a short, dry chuckle. But before she could speak, Wayne remained silent in the corner, watching them. His presence—constant, steady—went unnoticed once again. “It was Wayne’s idea,” Lena admitted softly. “He told me to go to Mr. Arnold and give him a gift. To try at least…” Her voice trailed off as a realization struck her mid-thought. So it was Peter who told his father beforehand…