As soon as Antonio rose fully to his feet, the air in the room shifted in a way that could not be explained by reason alone. Their attacks had been relentless. They had pressed him down from all sides, crushing his balance, draining his strength, clawing at his resolve until his legs had buckled and his body had struck the cold floor of the room. To the Bell Mill Gang, that moment had looked like the end. They had watched him fall and believed, without question, that the Dead of Hore had finally claimed another victim. But that collapse had not been defeat. It had been a passage. As Antonio stood upright now, his movements were unhurried and deliberate. His eyes no longer reflected exhaustion or strain. His breathing was steady and even, and his posture was firm, balanced, and grounded. Whatever weakness the gang had celebrated moments ago was gone, erased as completely as if it had never existed. The Dead of Hore sensed the change immediately. Their furiou

“Antonio,” Liora’s mother said, “thank you for taking my call.”“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Antonio replied. His tone was courteous, as always—measured, respectful, giving nothing away.She inhaled quietly before speaking again. “I will come straight to the point. All this while, as a family, we have been waiting for your feedback concerning your relationship with Liora. You know how much this means to her—and to us.”Antonio said nothing, allowing her to continue.“We believe it is time to be formal about things,” she added. “Not rushed, not dramatic. Just formal. We would like to invite you for a brief family get-together this weekend. Nothing elaborate. We simply want to hear your final response—clearly and directly.”There it was. The moment she had rehearsed over and over again.On the other end of the line, Antonio stood by his office desk, one hand resting against the wood as his gaze drifted toward the window. The city beyond looked deceptively calm. In his mind, however, things

Antonio’s car rolled through the tall wrought-iron gates of the Ortega mansion. The estate looked as immaculate as ever—pristine white walls, towering pillars, and wide balconies that spoke of old wealth and careful maintenance. Yet despite its beauty, an uneasy silence hung in the air, thick enough to feel. As soon as Antonio stepped out of the car, the two men who had brought him there moved ahead quickly, ushering him toward the entrance as though time itself were chasing them. The massive doors opened before they even knocked, revealing Liora’s mother and a few household staff standing anxiously in the foyer. “Antonio,” Liora’s mother said, relief washing over her face. “Thank you for coming.” Antonio gave a brief nod, his eyes already scanning the room. “Where is she?” “Upstairs,” she replied immediately. “Her room.” Without another word, Antonio followed them up the wide staircase, his long strides echoing against the marble steps. His mind raced as they climbed. The im

Antonio stepped out of the Ortega estate gates, the late afternoon sun glinting against the polished black of his car. His mind was calm, composed, and unwavering. He had just told Liora’s family, with perfect politeness and precision, that he had no intention of pursuing any romantic involvement with Liora. He had been firm, yet courteous—a difficult balance, but one he had mastered over the years. As far as he was concerned, the matter was settled. Business remained business, and nothing more. The Ortega family, however, did not see it the same way. Inside the sprawling mansion, the room where Antonio had just stood was now heavy with tension. The ornate curtains, which had been drawn to filter the golden light of the late afternoon, now seemed to cast long, accusing shadows across the room. Liora’s mother and others exchanged terse glances. Liora herself, sat frozen, her hand lightly touching the edge of her chair as if to steady herself. “He actually said it,” Liora’s

Antonio sat in his study, the seven scrolls spread out before him like pieces of an intricate puzzle. The more he studied, the more the picture became horrifyingly clear. This group—the Crimson Veil—was not just some shadowy cabal hiding in the underworld. No, they were intertwined with the highest echelons of society: politicians, corporate tycoons, influential judges, and even some security chiefs he had once thought were incorruptible.He felt his pulse quicken as he realized the depth of their reach. Every obstacle he had faced over the past few months, every carefully orchestrated threat, was a reflection of their influence. The Black Gang, the Bell Mill Gang—they were nothing more than tools, pawns manipulated by The Crimson Veil to test him, to probe his strength and strategy.The implications were staggering. This was not just revenge he sought anymore; it was justice for a network that had infiltrated every corner of power in Gelrith, a network that had taken his mother’s lif