The estate was alive with flashing lights and the clipped voices of uniformed officers. The police had combed through every inch of the house, but when at last they gathered in the great hall, their faces carried the same conclusion.“The bullet is nowhere to be found,” the lead investigator said, shaking his head. He gestured toward the living room where the glass still lay scattered across the carpet like a field of diamonds. “We’ve measured the trajectory, analyzed the angle of entry. This was no amateur shot. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”Julia, pale but composed, stood beside the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to ward off a chill that wasn’t there. Her eyes kept drifting toward the broken window, her imagination filling the void with shadowy figures lurking just beyond the glass.Chance lingered near, his arms folded across his chest, but inside, questions stormed through him. A sniper? Here, in the heart of their estate? The thought

By the next morning, the story was everywhere. From online blogs to mainstream news outlets, even the university’s social media boards—everyone was talking about the attempted assassination of Julia Banks and how Chance, had intervened at the very last second to save her life.Students at ESU whispered about it in corridors and classrooms, piecing together details from shaky news clips and anonymous posts. To many of them, Chance was no longer just the quiet, reserved heir with a sharp mind for business—he was also now a hero.When he walked across campus that day, it was as though the air itself shifted around him. Heads turned. Some clapped him on the shoulder as he passed; others simply nodded in silent respect. A few even called out his name with admiration, their voices rising above the usual morning chatter.“Chance, you’re incredible!” one of the juniors exclaimed.Chance offered faint smiles, but he said little in return. His heart was still heavy with everything that had happ

Gary followed Brenda through the long corridor, his mind still reeling from the revelations of the previous night.But as he walked deeper into the heart of the Stannis headquarters, those thoughts gave way to something else entirely.The ceilings stretched impossibly high, lined with chandeliers that looked as though they had been carved out of crystal and starlight. Floors of white marble gleamed beneath his shoes, veined with gold so subtle it almost looked alive. Every door they passed was guarded—not by ordinary men, but by figures in tailored suits, their earpieces glowing faintly, their eyes sharp and calculating.A chill slid down his spine. This wasn’t just wealth. This was control.“This…” Gary muttered under his breath, awe slipping into his tone despite himself, “…this isn’t just an office building.”Brenda glanced back at him, her heels clicking softly against the marble. Her lips curved in a knowing smile.“Of course not,” she said. Her voice carried a quiet pride, but

Roland Kwan glanced at the phone in front of him, the line open, the speaker muted for now. He exchanged a look with Harold, and for a moment, there was a sudden silence that fell upon both men.“You’re sure about this?” Roland asked quietly, breaking the silence.Harold’s chuckle was low, bitter. “What loyalty do we owe Chance? He’s already chosen his own path, and he treats us like some second class citizens. At this point, the Bernards are our only way of getting back at him, and if they’re willing to cut us in… we’d be fools to refuse.”Roland said nothing. He stared at the silent phone, the muted line that carried the weight of betrayal. For years, he had played the loyal worker, the supporter, the shadow. But now? Now he saw the tide shifting. All they wanted was to hold on to the influence and power that the O' Connor Empire had bestowed upon them ever since the death of Steven O' Connor but now that Chance had stepped in, he was already taking away all of that, and they weren

Far away from the jubilant streets and the thunderous applause in the tribunal chamber, Gary sat in front of the flat-screen television which was mounted on the wall with breaking news footage. Julia Banks—his stepmother—stood tall, surrounded by roaring supporters. Cameras zoomed in on her calm but triumphant face as the words scrolled boldly across the bottom of the screen:“TRIBUNAL UPHOLDS JULIA BANKS’ VICTORY – PRESIDENT-ELECT CONFIRMED.”Gary’s breath came in shallow bursts. He couldn’t move, couldn’t tear his eyes away. The cheers, the chants, the waving flags—it all pounded in his head like war drums.“She won,” he whispered hoarsely.From behind him, Brenda Stannis stepped forward. Her reflection shimmered faintly on the TV screen—tall, elegant, and composed. But her eyes burned with something darker.“Of course she won,” Brenda said, her voice laced with venom. “Did you expect otherwise? The O’Connors made sure of that. Julia didn’t win because of merit, Gary—she won becaus