The morning sun hadn’t even broken fully when the story flooded every phone, every campus news board, and every whispered conversation in ESU’s crowded courtyards. The headlines pulsed like neon: Chance Franklin is Chance O’Connor—Heir to the O’Connor Empire.Students gathered in huddles around phones and tablet screens, some gawking, others laughing at the absurdity that Chance, whom they thought was just a privileged kid because his mother was married to Philip Banks, was now the future ruler of an empire older than most of their family legacies combined.It began to make sense, those stunts he had pulled sometime ago. Like driving the escapade, attending the festival of music and arts as VVIP guest, and lots of other silent stunts he'd pulled that at come as a surprise to them before.Inside the Economics block, Chloe lingered at her locker, watching her classmates chatter. She pretended to scroll her phone but her mind was miles away—half in the press room where Chance had stood n

The drive back from Fredrick’s home felt longer than it should have, though the streets were nearly empty and the night air was calm. Chance barely registered the city lights drifting past his windows. His thoughts were tangled in the weight of what Fredrick had told him—the truth about why his father had stepped away from music, the Aurelian’s Mark, and The Duskborne.He wasn't sure if he was ready for any of what Fredrick had told him back there, especially not after everything that had just happened with the just concluded elections.Even as he gripped the wheel, he could feel the Mark pulsing faintly beneath his sleeve, almost like it was alive, aware of the conversation that had taken place. The name—The Duskborne—echoed in his head with the chill of something ancient and patient, waiting for its moment.Fredrick’s parting words replayed with clarity: Whenever you need my help, you can always reach out to me.But right now, the only thing Chance needed was a moment to breathe.He

The taxi skidded to a halt in front of the private wing of St. Clarion Memorial Hospital. Chloe barely waited for the driver to finish parking before she flung the door open and sprinted toward the entrance, heart pounding and mind spiraling with worst-case scenarios.The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor were blinding as she rushed past the reception. Her shoes clicked urgently against the sterile floor, echoing like a clock ticking away moments she couldn’t afford to lose.“Room 3B, down the right corridor,” the nurse said after glancing at the emergency record. “She was brought in about twenty minutes ago.”When Chloe burst into the room, she stopped cold.Her mother, usually so composed and proud even through illness, lay still beneath the thin hospital blanket. The soft beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound besides the faint hum of the air conditioning.“Mom…” Chloe whispered, her voice cracking.Her mother’s eyes didn’t open.A quiet knock came behind her, an

By the time Chloe arrived at Regal Motors’ headquarters, the glass façade of the building glinted like a wall of judgment in the midday sun. Her cab pulled away, leaving her standing on the marble steps.She clutched the file to her chest as she walked into the boardroom, every pair of eyes turning toward her.At the far end of the long mahogany table sat the men and women who held Regal Motors’ fate in their hands. And at the center of it all, dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than her mother’s annual salary back when she first started the company, was Charles Bernard.Barely twenty-six, Charles was already infamous. The eldest son of the Bernard family—the kings of the automobile empire. Their family crest was practically carved into the history of luxury cars. The Bernards didn’t just build cars; they built symbols of power. And now, they were here to take Regal Motors for themselves—not because they needed it, but because it would make their empire even more untou

The familiar antiseptic scent of the hospital ward washed over Chloe the moment she pushed open the door. Her steps slowed as her eyes caught sight of the bed where her mother lay.Margaret Martins was awake. Her head rested weakly against the pillow, her eyes fixed on the muted television in the corner, though Chloe doubted she was really watching. The faint rise and fall of her chest was a fragile reassurance after the panic of the past twenty-four hours.A nurse in light-blue scrubs was adjusting the IV drip at the bedside, scribbling something on a clipboard. Chloe stepped inside, the file still clutched under her arm.“Can we have a moment?” she asked gently.The nurse glanced at her, then at Margaret, before giving a small nod. “Five minutes. Don’t tire her out too much.” With that, she slipped out, closing the door softly behind her.Silence hung between them for a moment, broken only by the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor.Chloe moved to the side of the bed and took her mot