Still Tyler’s grip was a cold, iron thing around the boss’s throat, but his voice low and smooth as oil poured over glass carried farther than his hands. Tyler’s eyes didn’t wander. They found the man who had humiliated his mother, the man who had pressed that obscene card against her forehead, the man whose men had written “a lesson” across her shutters in acid and malice. Tyler’s mouth formed each word deliberately, letting them land like blows.“You think you can humiliate my mother and walk away?” he said, every syllable a promise of consequence. “You came for threats; you came for fear. You picked the wrong family to scare.” The boss’s struggles were frantic now, hands clawing at Tyler’s wrist, at air, at the reason this house would no longer feel safe. The other Bushmans hurried to the edge of the room, flitting between a show of control and the naked panic they had never expected to swallow. Phones were half-raised, then dropped, useless in the face of the thing standing in fr

Immediately, upon upon recovering from what just happened, the living room erupted with panic.Mr. Bushman’s voice broke through the silence first—shaky, loud, and filled with disbelief.“What the hell have you just done?!” he screamed, eyes bulging as he rushed forward.Mrs. Bushman, not far behind, echoed her husband’s panic.“Oh my God! What have you done to my son?!” she shrieked, her voice cracking from the sheer terror and rage.“Who the hell do you think you are?! Are you insane? Are you crazy?! What’s going on here?!” Mr. Bushman shouted again, hands trembling by his sides, unsure if he should charge at Tyler or fall to his knees.But Tyler didn’t answer, but instead he just stood there, unmoved, unfazed—his presence still choking the room with invisible weight. His eyes remained locked on them like a wolf watching cornered prey.Immediately, both parents dropped to the ground beside their son. Bushman Jr. lay there in an awkward position blood trailing from the edge of his li

At that moment, upon hearing what Mrs. Bushman just said, Tyler’s gaze narrowed. The silence in the room was cold and heavy like thick fog, wrapping tightly around everyone’s throats. Slowly, he turned his eyes toward Mrs. Bushman, his grip still locked tightly around her husband’s collar, his fingers curled like iron hooks.“Then speak,” Tyler said, his voice low and commanding, almost a whisper—but more terrifying than a scream.Mrs. Bushman’s lips quivered. Her hands trembled where they clutched her dress, her knuckles turning pale. She took a deep breath, but it faltered halfway. Her eyes darted to her husband, still suspended mid-air by Tyler’s unyielding arm, then down to her son sprawled unconscious on the floor, jaw cracked and blood pooling beneath his head.With a voice that broke in places, she finally said, “It… it was because of Princess Naomi.”Tyler’s expression didn’t change, but his stare burned hotter. Mrs. Bushman swallowed hard and continued, each word falling out

Tyler stared at the message for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing.Right. The audition. Amid everything, he had almost forgotten.Tyler was still sitting in his car, eyes cold, body calm, but his chest rising and falling slowly as if trying to come down from the rage that had burned through him just moments ago. He looked back at the unconscious figure he’d dumped in the back seat the bodyguard so-called boss, a man who had once dared to lay threats at his mother’s feet.Tyler could’ve ended him. But that would’ve been too easy. Too merciful.He had to live.He had to remember fear, Or rather struggle to remember anything at all.Tyler leaned back in his seat, recalling the looks of horror frozen on the faces of Mrs. Bushman and her daughter as he casually touched their foreheads. One second they were screaming questions, the next flat on the ground, bodies limp, minds blank.It wasn’t death. It was something worse.A fracture of memory. A silence in the mind.Mbena was the first to s

Not long after, Tyler’s car pulled up at the entrance of the luxurious art venue. From the outside, it looked like a grand cultural festival a market of elegance—but unlike the noisy chaos of regular fairs, this one was refined, deliberate, and tastefully orchestrated. Every corner, every display, every detail was clearly laid out with intention and class. The whole place gleamed under the golden hue of the overhead lights, casting shadows that danced over marbled floors and polished sculptures.From the gates alone, Tyler could tell this wasn’t an ordinary audition. It was an elite gathering a competition designed to look like a celebration, but beneath the laughter and formal smiles, he could feel the silent pressure and unspoken tension that hung in the air.He stepped out of his car, locking it with a single tap on his screen, and casually placed both hands in his pockets as he walked through the first check-in point.All around him, prominent individuals had already started arriv