The sound of the gavel still seemed to echo in Martha’s ears as the court security moved forward. The weight of the judge’s final words hung in the air, pressing down like a stone. Sophia and Victoria were already on their feet, flanked by two stern-looking officers in dark uniforms. The reality of what had just happened was sinking in fast, and Martha’s entire body tensed.“Wait! You can’t take them like that!” she shouted, stepping into the aisle, her voice breaking with both fury and desperation.One of the officers, tall and broad-shouldered, shook his head without a trace of emotion. “Ma, please step aside. We are following court orders.”“They are not criminals!” Martha’s tone cracked, but she didn’t care who heard. “You’re treating them like common thieves. This is wrong!”The officers didn’t stop. Sophia kept her face composed, though her lips were pressed into a thin, stubborn line. She refused to let them see her fear. Victoria, on the other hand, looked down at the floor

“Mrs. Donovan, you are under arrest for attempted murder,” a firm male voice boomed from behind the three policemen. The words cut through the air like a sharp blade. “You have the right to remain silent, or whatever you say will and can be used against you in the court of law.”Martha’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. Stepping into the room was a tall man in casual wear, his police badge hanging around his neck. He carried the air of someone who knew his authority and didn’t need a uniform to prove it.“And who are you?” Martha asked, her voice cold.“Inspector Damien Holt,” he said without hesitation. His eyes didn’t linger on her long; he turned to the three uniformed officers and gave a short, decisive order. “Take her away.”“What is this nonsense?” Bohemia barked, stepping forward. “You can’t just—”One of the officers planted a hand firmly against his chest, stopping him in his tracks. “Stay out of this, sir. Unless you want to be arrested for obstruction.”“

The tall glass doors of Donovan Industries slid open, and in walked Michael, flanked by Sonia at his side. Behind them were Clarissa, his ever-loyal assistant, two smartly dressed ladies, and two bodyguards in black suits. Their steps were steady, their presence commanding.The moment they crossed the lobby, heads turned in unison. Typists paused in mid-keystroke. A junior staff almost spilled his coffee. The receptionist’s jaw fell open, her pen frozen in her hand. Whispers began to move like ripples across a pond, spreading from one corner of the building to the other.“It’s him… Michael Ainsley,” one voice muttered.“Eh? The same one from the court case?” another asked, trying to sound discreet though her eyes betrayed her awe.Michael said nothing. His gaze was calm, sharp, his steps measured. Without speaking, he nodded once at Clarissa. She understood immediately, peeling off from his side and heading straight to the Human Resource manager’s desk. The man was tall, slim, and

Michael stood in the wide living room, his presence steady like a rock. His eyes moved slowly across the space before resting on Martha, who stood with folded arms and burning eyes. She was stubborn, her whole body trembling with rage, but Michael had no time for another round of words. He raised his hand slightly and gave a firm order.“Take two ladies with you,” he said to one of the bodyguards, “and pack all her things. I don’t want a single piece left inside.”The instruction was like a knife to Martha’s chest. “You dare!” she spat, her voice cracking, but Michael ignored her completely.The two young women and the tall bodyguard went upstairs immediately. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor as they disappeared into the rooms above. Martha’s hands shook, but her fury kept her rooted to the ground. She stared at Michael as though her eyes alone could burn him alive.Minutes later, the group returned. They carried heavy bags, stuffed with clothes and personal belongings. Th

Bohemia sat on the edge of the hospital bench, his elbows resting heavily on his knees, his palms rubbing together in a restless motion. The corridor was quiet except for the echo of hurried footsteps and the occasional squeak of trolley wheels pushed past him. He felt caged in, trapped in a space where every second stretched into eternity.Through the glass partition, he could see blurred shadows moving in and out of his father’s room. The green glow of monitors flickered. Nurses hovered around the bed, their heads bent, their hands working quickly, while the doctor barked instructions. None of it reassured him. His father had never looked so vulnerable. That image alone was enough to unsteady him.He stood, then sat again, unable to keep still. His mind replayed the fight they’d had earlier in the morning. His father’s voice raised, his own voice raised even higher. The argument had cut deeply, and now, sitting here, Bohemia wished he had bitten his tongue, swallowed his pride, a