Antonio’s phone rang.When he answered, a frail, broken voice came through the line.“Antonio.”He froze.“Father? What’s wrong? You sound—”“Son,” the old man cut in with his voice trembling between coughs, “you need to come home… I have something to tell you… before I go.”The words sent a chill down Antonio’s spine. His heart began to pound violently against his ribs. “Go? What do you mean? Don’t say that, Father.”But the voice on the other end was faint and strained. “I’m not sure I have much time left, Antonio. There are things… things I must tell you. You must know them before it’s too late.”Before Antonio could ask another question, the line went dead.He stood there motionless for a few seconds, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. The storm in his mind—Blackthorn, the underworld war, and the deaths of his men—suddenly seemed distant compared to the fear clawing at his chest. His father had always been a strong man, sharp and calculating even in old age. For him to spe

Soldiers in crisp uniforms stood at attention on both sides of the gate as Antonio’s car slowed to a halt.The moment he stepped out, the guards saluted him sharply, and the villa’s chief aide approached with a deep bow.“Mr. Antonio Morris,” the aide said respectfully, “the Minister has been expecting you. Please, come this way.”Antonio adjusted his suit jacket as he followed the aide through the long corridor which was lined with portraits of foreign dignitaries and glass displays holding awards and medals. They arrived at a massive double-door entrance that opened automatically to reveal a stunning hall. A table stretched from one end of the room to the other.Several high-ranking officials stood in the background, their eyes filled with admiration as they watched Antonio enter.“Ah, Mr Morris!” came a deep, commanding voice from the far end of the room. The Minister of Foreign Affairs, a man in his late fifties with silver hair and a dignified smile, rose from his seat. He wa

Alder’s voice rang through the hall like poison dripping from a snake’s tongue. He stepped closer, snarling. "Listen fool. This isn’t the kind of place where strays like you belong.”Antonio looked him straight in the eyes. “Funny you say that,” Antonio replied coolly. “Because if anyone here doesn’t belong, it’s you.”Alder blinked, momentarily thrown off by Antonio’s composure. Then he laughed bitterly, his voice echoing through the grand reception hall. “You think you can talk to me like that? I’m an administrator here. I’ve been with this company for years. You, on the other hand, have been nothing but a scandal—and then, you're so useless and pathetic! I could make one call, and you’d be thrown out before you could blink.”Antonio folded his arms, his expression unreadable. “Then make the call,” he said simply. “Let’s see how that works out for you.”The confidence in Antonio’s voice struck Alder harder than any insult could. However, he forced boldness. “You think you’re u

Antonio sat quietly beside the hospital bed with his eyes fixed on the frail figure lying before him—his father. The tubes and wires that connected to his body seemed to drain the life out of him rather than sustain it.Antonio swallowed hard as he clasped his father’s hand. “You’re going to be fine, Dad,” he whispered, trying to sound reassuring. “You just need to rest. The doctors are doing their best.”His father opened his eyes which was dimmed by exhaustion, slowly. “Antonio,” he said weakly, his voice barely audible. “Listen to me.”Antonio leaned closer.“I don’t have much time left, son,” his father said, every word a struggle. “But before I go, there’s one thing I want to see… one thing I’ve always wanted for you.”Antonio’s chest tightened. “Don’t say that, Dad,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You’re going to make it through this. You’ll go home soon.”But the old man only smiled faintly, the kind of smile that carried both love and resignation. “You always were like your

Antonio adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, and stepped into the laboratory of Ortega Pharmaceuticals.Over the past two months, Antonio had devoted almost every waking hour to developing a formula that could cure a disease long considered incurable — Xarloth’s Syndrome which was a degenerative condition that slowly dissolved human tissue and left victims in unbearable agony. Many scientists had failed and many had even gone bankrupt trying. But Antonio believed that impossibility was only a delay in discovery.He entered the lab where a group of senior researchers, technicians, and interns were already gathered around a glass chamber containing the finished compound. The air was heavy with the smell of chemicals and sterilizing agents, and the hum of machines filled the silence between their conversations.“Good morning, everyone,” Antonio greeted, walking toward the table where the vial sat. It was a transparent liquid with a faint blue sheen, glowing subtly under the fluorescen