Just as one of Orson’s men raised a steel rod, preparing to finish the job and get rid of Logan once and for all, the sharp trill of Orson’s phone cut through the silence.Orson, clearly irritated, barked an order to hold. “Stop! Someone’s calling.” He snatched the device from his pocket and pressed it to his ear, his expression darkening as he heard the voice on the other end.“Orson,” the voice snapped, urgent and authoritative. “Have you gotten anything from him? Did Logan agree to reveal the location of the heirloom?”Orson’s jaw tightened. “No,” he said sharply. “He refused to reveal anything. Refused to release the heirloom. He’s stubborn as ever. If you ask me, he’s about to be executed for it.”There was a brief pause, then the voice on the other end exploded into a shout. “Hold on!”Orson blinked in surprise. “Who is this?”“This is Leonard,” the second eldest of the Brooks family. Leonard’s voice was cold, commanding, and carried the weight of the family’s authority. “

Logan’s arms were pinned painfully behind his back, his body struggling against the iron grip of Orson’s men as they prepared to throw him into the oven. The room smelled of sweat, metal, and fear.Before him, the massive industrial oven loomed like a sinister threat, its door wide open, waiting for him to be shoved inside. Orson’s men exchanged smirks, certain that Logan’s fate was sealed.“Easy there,” one of the men taunted, gripping Logan’s shoulders. “You’ll be warm and cozy in there in just a minute.”Logan’s eyes flicked to the pocket of his jacket where the cube lay. A spark of hope ignited in his chest and with a subtle motion, he touched the cube.Immediately, an extraordinary surge of strength rippled through his body. It was as if every ounce of weakness, every bruise, every exhaustion he had endured in the last few hours evaporated. His muscles coiled and flexed, and his senses sharpened. The room seemed slower and the movements of his captors suddenly bevame sluggi

There was going to be a brief meeting about John's burial proceedings at the Sullivan family mansion.John’s death weighed on everyone, leaving an ache that refused to be silenced. Barbara and Charlotte had resolved that today would be different—they would confront the Sullivan family, ensure accountability, and see justice served for the tragedy that had befallen them.Barbara turned to Logan, her eyes firm but filled with restrained grief. “Logan, Charlotte and I are going to the Sullivan family meeting. It’s regarding John’s death. The police are expected to be there, and if Harry Sullivan shows his face, he must be confronted. Arrested if possible. We can’t let him get away with this.”Logan’s jaw tightened slightly and his dark eyes glinted with a dangerous curiosity. “I’ll follow you,” he said calmly. “If Harry has the audacity to show up, I want to see it for myself. We won’t need the police just yet. I’ll handle him. Trust me on that.”Barbara and Charlotte exchanged a gla

Charlotte’s heart thudded heavily against her ribs as the man’s face flashed across the television screen. His sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and the same confident smile—it was unmistakable. She knew this man. She had sat across from him at her office desk only a few weeks ago at Elysian Bloom Headquarters, when he had come for some business deal.But what had started as a business conversation had quickly taken a strange turn. He had leaned in closer, his words dipped in arrogance and entitlement.“I don’t just want your company’s services,” he had said, his voice smooth but unsettling. “I want you. Be my woman.”Charlotte remembered the shock that had frozen her in place. She had glanced at the documents in front of her, at the perfectly rehearsed corporate pitch he had abandoned midway. His eyes had not been on the papers, nor on the figures. They had been fixed solely on her.“I’m married,” Charlotte had replied firmly, her voice calm but carrying the weight of finality.Her

Iron Hand's tall frame filled the doorway, his expression carved with the same self-assured arrogance that had unsettled her since their very first encounter. He didn’t knock. He didn’t ask for permission. He simply walked in as if he owned the space.Her chair scraped back against the polished wood floor as she stood. “What are you doing here?” Charlotte demanded, her voice sharp, slicing through the otherwise quiet hum of the office. “This is a private office, not a public meeting ground. Explain yourself.”Iron Hand smirked faintly, shutting the door behind him with an almost casual flick. He wasted no time circling the desk.His eyes, dark with determination, locked on her.“I came here for one thing only,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no space for ambiguity. “You.”The word landed heavily, forcing Charlotte to take a half-step back, her palm instinctively pressing against the edge of her desk as if to steady herself. “What nonsense are you talking about?” she snapped.