PresLead Holdings was dying.The once-mighty conglomerate that controlled half the city’s energy and real estate sector now lay in shambles — its stock value down by over seventy percent, its investors pulling out one after another. The grand glass building at the city centre that used to glitter with wealth and pride now stood half-empty, its lobby quiet, its logo stripped from the marble wall.With Bohemia Mason, the CEO, behind bars, there was no one to steer the sinking ship. The man he had appointed to act as interim head, a certain Lewis Cramer, had already resigned after two disastrous weeks, citing “unbearable pressure and hostile investors.”The government financial board declared PresLead Holdings officially bankrupt and placed it on sale.But while the world saw a fallen empire, Michael Ainsley saw something else — an opportunity to close the final chapter of a rivalry that had consumed too much of his life.He didn’t need the company. His own group, Ainsley Group, had mo

The storm had finally passed or so it seemed.With Bohemia’s conviction now behind them, the city’s attention began to shift. Newspapers printed bold headlines for days, dissecting every moment of the trial, but by the new week, the buzz had started to fade. What didn’t fade, however, was the quiet tension hanging around the two companies at the centre of it all.At Donovan Industries and Ainsley Group, life was returning to its rhythm — meetings, memos, deals, yet something in the air had changed. The fear that once lingered in the corridors was gone, replaced by a new kind of uncertainty.For the first time after his last briefing on correcting the wrong impression about Clarissa, Michael Ainsley kept away from the cameras. He refused every interview request, ignored press calls, and declined invitations to talk shows. The world expected a victory statement from him after his rival’s downfall, but Michael wanted none of it. The quiet was his way of healing and perhaps, of show

Sophia sat in the Human Resources conference room, a stack of files spread before her. She had barely slept the night before, but this task had to be done — screening the shortlisted applicants for the position of Michael Ainsley’s new personal assistant.Mrs. Janet Oduah, Michael’s secretary, had already sent her the final list — five candidates carefully chosen after several layers of review. Sophia had already dismissed three earlier that morning; they were good, but not good enough. Michael didn’t need “good.” He needed precision.By late afternoon, only two candidates remained.The first, Mr. Daniel Ekene, was a neat young man in his early thirties. He had an impressive résumé and spoke well, but Sophia could tell from his mannerisms that he’d struggle under pressure. When she asked how he’d handle a late-night executive crisis, he hesitated too long before answering.“Thank you, Mr. Ekene,” she said with a polite smile. “We’ll get back to you.”As soon as he left, she sighed

The new campaign rolled out faster than anyone expected. Billboards lit up across the city, television stations ran sleek adverts, and hashtags flooded social media. Donovan Industries and Ainsley Group, once caught in endless scandal and rivalry, were now the face of progress and reform.The Governor of the State even mentioned the project in one of his public speeches, applauding both companies for taking the lead in youth empowerment and corporate transparency. The praise brought prestige, credibility, and new investors to their doors.In the middle of all this success, however, Clarissa found herself distracted.From her office window, she could see the reflection of Michael and Sophia walking side by side into the lobby whenever they had joint meetings. They laughed lightly, not in the careless way lovers did, but in a way that carried a comfort she didn’t have with him anymore.She’d tell herself it didn’t matter, that work came first. But the truth was, each time she saw the

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall glass walls of Donovan Industries, spilling warmth across the open-plan office. It was supposed to be an ordinary day — meetings, calls, schedules. But before the clock struck ten, a ripple of panic spread through the building.Michael Ainsley had collapsed.His secretary, Mrs. Janet Oduah, found him slumped over his desk, his phone still in his hand. The sound of the device hitting the floor had drawn her attention from the outer office. When she rushed in, his pen rolled off the table, and he was motionless, breathing shallow.Within minutes, security officers and the company’s emergency response team filled the hallway. Employees stood frozen, whispering in shock as a stretcher was wheeled past them.By the time he reached the hospital, the news had already reached both Donovan Industries and Ainsley Group.Clarissa was in the middle of a board review when her phone buzzed. The message was brief — “Mr. Ainsley collapsed in his office.