Logan could hardly believe it. His father was missing! He wasn’t sick or in the hospital. But he was missing! The news sent a chill through his body, and before anyone could say another word, Logan was already on his way to the Brooks Mansion. The Obsidian Lynx Hypercar roared as it sped through the city streets. Logan’s mind was clouded with thoughts, fury, and questions. Who would dare take his father? And how did anyone even get into the mansion without being noticed? He clenched his jaw tightly, the fury in his eyes growing darker by the second. Whoever was behind this, he thought, had just declared war against him. When he arrived at the Brooks Mansion, the entire compound was in utter chaos. The large gates stood open with security guards running back and forth. The sound of frantic voices filled the air. Inside the mansion, the scene was even worse. The servants were moving about in panic, some crying, others speaking over each other in confusion. The grand ch

The moment Logan saw the glint of steel in his uncle’s hand — the knife aimed at his father’s throat — a dark, cold laugh escaped him. It was a laugh of disbelief mixed with fury, a sound that made the entire room still for a heartbeat.“You’re a fool,” Logan said, his voice low, sharp, and unflinching. “A pathetic fool to think you could ever kill my father right before my eyes and walk away breathing.”His uncle’s face twisted, veins bulging along his temple. “You dare mock me, boy? You think your new position makes you untouchable? You think—”Before he could finish, he lunged forward, knife in hand, his eyes burning with a kind of madness that only years of envy could forge.But Logan was faster.His reflexes were honed by years of discipline, by battles fought in silence and wars no one else had survived. The moment the blade came within reach, Logan’s hand shot out, twisting his uncle’s wrist with brutal precision. The knife slipped from the man’s grasp and clattered to the con

Charlotte took a step forward with her hands clenching at her sides. Her eyes, wide and sharp, bore into him with intensity."You haven’t heard the news, have you?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly, teetering on the edge of panic. “The police… they’re everywhere. They’re looking for you, Logan. They’ve found out about the burglary, about the people… the people you killed.”Logan tilted his head slightly, as though processing something both obvious and absurd. His gaze rested on Charlotte, and for a moment it was almost as if he couldn’t comprehend why she was so worked up. “I don’t follow,” he said casually, a trace of amusement in his tone. “Are you seriously telling me the police are upset that I dealt with some criminals? That I took care of matters that belonged to me?”Charlotte’s eyes widened further, a mix of frustration and fear bubbling to the surface. “Matters that belonged to you?” she echoed, incredulous. “Logan, you didn’t just take care of matters—you broke

The police station smelled of bleach and stale coffee.Logan sat on the stiff bench in the interrogation room, his hands folded loosely in his lap. He had expected this—he hadn’t been naïve about the danger of being the man who drew attention. Still, being called in under accusation of murder felt obscene, the allegation heavy and absurd at once. He had just saved his father. He had defended himself. The narrative should have been simple; instead, it had been twisted into something ugly and criminal.Two officers paced outside the door while an investigator—mid-forties, blotchy-faced, and officious—looked down at a file and then up at Logan. The room was small and clinical, the table and chairs bolted to the floor like fixtures in a stage set. A camera in the corner watched with a dull, indifferent red light. Logan could almost feel the town’s gossip pressing at that red eye, hungry and ready.“You understand the gravity of these accusations, Mr. Brooks?” the investigator said, v

The woman’s entourage of bodyguards flanked her like shadows.Every officer near the entrance stopped what they were doing. The hum of conversation died instantly, leaving only the echo of her heels.Her gaze was locked on Logan. The officers at the front, still recovering from the tension of his interrogation, stiffened as she approached. The woman’s beauty was disarming, but it was her aura of control that unsettled everyone present. Her black coat fluttered slightly in the breeze.“Excuse me,” she said. “Is that him?” She gestured toward Logan, who stood a few feet from the doorway, his expression unreadable. “Is that the man—the hired man?”The senior officer, who had just finished signing Logan’s release documents, adjusted his cap nervously and stepped forward. “If you mean Mr. Logan Brooks,” he began cautiously, “then yes, that’s him. But, madam, I must clarify—Mr. Brooks has been completely exonerated. The accusations about murder were false. The footage proved his innocen