Cynthia’s fingers hovered over the screen for a brief second before she finally answered the call.“Hello?” Her voice was controlled, but the strain beneath it was unmistakable.There was a pause on the other end. A faint sound of breathing. Then a voice she had not heard in what felt like years.“Cynthia.”Her heart skipped.She knew that voice instantly.“Elias Greyson,” she said quietly, not even bothering to hide the tension in her tone.It was her biological father.“Yes,” he replied, clearing his throat slightly. “It’s me.”The air between them felt heavy, even across the distance of the call. Years of silence pressed into that small space between each breath, each word. The distance was not just physical—it was layered with pride, hurt, and things left unsaid.“We just received news,” Elias began, his voice measured but edged with urgency, “that Bellagio Group is in ruins. That the building collapsed overnight.”Cynthia closed her eyes briefly. The image of twisted steel and sh

By the time the sun began to sink beneath the horizon, casting long streaks of amber across the sky, Cynthia was already seated in the back of a car headed toward the Greysons’ estate. She had not delayed even a single minute after the call ended. The urgency in her father’s voice had unsettled her deeply. It had not been ordinary concern, not the measured tone of a businessman discussing inconvenience. It had sounded like warning—controlled, restrained, but edged with something that made her pulse quicken.And so, as evening settled heavily over the city and streetlights flickered to life one by one, the tall iron gates of the Greysons’ mansion slowly parted to let her in.The estate stood as imposing as ever—grand pillars rising toward the darkening sky, sweeping balconies carved with intricate detail, and manicured lawns trimmed so precisely they appeared untouched by time. The fountains along the driveway glimmered under soft lighting, their water flowing in calm contrast to the s

Elias folded his hands together and studied his daughter carefully, his dark eyes steady and measuring.“Cynthia,” he began slowly, “Antonio is no longer in the picture.”The mention of Antonio’s name caused a faint tightening in her chest, a flutter of old memories and restrained emotions. She masked it quickly, holding herself composed, but it lingered beneath her calm exterior like a pulse she could not fully control.“And Bellagio Group is gone,” he continued, his voice deliberate. “Completely wiped out.”She held his gaze, measuring the words, feeling their weight. “Yes,” she replied quietly, her voice steady despite the flaring unease that rose from somewhere deep inside.He leaned forward slightly, the motion deliberate, as if he were leaning into the gravity of the conversation itself. “So tell me—what now?”Cynthia frowned. The question seemed deceptively simple, but she knew it carried more than casual inquiry. “What do you mean, what now?”“I mean,” Elias said, “are you pre

Cynthia’s legs refused to hold her steady, and a cold sweat ran down her spine. Her body trembled violently, her breath coming in uneven, shallow gasps. She shivered uncontrollably, her mind racing, refusing to accept the grim truth. Each thought collided with the next, a cacophony of disbelief and dread. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in as if mocking her helplessness. She tried to push away the thoughts, telling herself that it had to be a mistake, that there was some miscommunication, some error in what she had been told. Perhaps her father had been misinformed. Antonio, the man she had grown to care for, the one who had faced countless dangers, adversaries, and threats with sharp intellect and courage, could not possibly be dead. He had survived so much before. Why now? How could it be?Even as she tried to cling to hope, the certainty in her father’s voice lingered in her mind, like an echo of unshakable truth. The firmness, the authority, the unwavering confidence he