The ballroom glittered with lights and laughter as the party continued, as if the last few minutes hadn’t cracked the ground beneath it. Sarah stood tall beside Michelle, with a champagne flute poised but untouched in her hand. Powerful people around her clinked glasses and smiled, celebrating a night that nearly destroyed them.Malik stood at the edge of it all. Not quite in the light and not quite invisible. His actions tonight had shocked them all, but that didn’t change who he was in their eyes—and the Roys were ready to remind him of that.The laughter from the Roys' corner was louder than the orchestra now. David leaned toward Evelyn, pretending to whisper, but his voice carried just enough."Even a cleaner can shine in a suit. But you know what they say—scrub a street dog, and he still smells like trash," David said, gesturing for Evelyn to look toward Malik.Evelyn's gaze turned to Malik, but she didn’t laugh. She just looked away, uncomfortable—especially after what he had do

Malik stood still for a long moment after Paul Roy's decree and the clinking of glasses and buzz of conversation resuming like static after a thunderclap immediately. But every sound in the room felt muffled to him now. Slowly, his eyes scanned the crowd, noting the disdain, smirks and whispers from the Roys and their allies who watched him like vultures over carrion.No one saw him as more than a momentary disruption. A cleaner who dared to speak out of turn. He's just like a ghost that should have stayed in the shadows.With his chest heavy and his shirt soaked, Malik turned and left the ballroom without a word. The sharp echo of his shoes on the marble floor was a brief defiance, quickly lost in the vastness of the hallway.As he passed, the glances followed him. Servants whispered, guards sneered. Even the youngest of the Roy family smirked as he walked by like he was part of a comedy act.Malik’s only destination now was solitude, a place to breathe.He moved slowly through the c

"Be my wife," Michelle said again, his voice low, a touch of urgency masking behind charm.Sarah froze, the rim of the wine glass hovering just shy of her lips. Her brows tightened. "What about Malik? You knew it. I'm engaged." She exclaimed.Michelle scoffed, shaking his head with a disdainful smirk. "Malik? He's just a cleaner. A Nobody."Sarah's hand lowered slowly, the glass forgotten. Her eyes blinked once, as if trying to reset her thoughts. He's not just a cleaner, she wanted to say. Her heart raced, caught between the warm refuge of Michelle’s attention and the storm that was Malik—unpredictable, brash, yet unwavering.She pressed her lips together, shaking her head. Malik might be many things, but heartless wasn't one of them. Maybe she had thought of him as a burden, especially when his name brought nothing but conflict into her life. Michelle chuckled dryly and leaned closer with one hand brushing over her shoulder. "You need to let him go. He's a weight you can't afford

The heavy door thudded shut behind Malik, sealing Sarah and Michelle in the corridor’s sudden, brittle silence with the echo of his final words "Let the world see Janet for what she is" seemed to vibrate in the air, sending a dare thrown at the gilded cage of the Roy estate. Sarah stared at the closed door, her chest tight, the icy calm she’d forced upon herself cracking like thin glass. Malik had walked away. Not in retreat, but towards the heart of the storm, towards the ballroom where Janet held court. Panic, cold and sharp, pricked at her spine.Michelle’s hand descended on her shoulder, possessive and warm. "See? Unstable. Reckless…. He’s sealing his own fate, Sarah. Now is the time to—" he murmured, his voice slick with satisfaction.Sarah flinched away from his touch as if scalded. The predator’s glint in his eyes, previously masked by charm, now seemed blindingly obvious. "Time for what, Michelle? To distance myself? To throw him to the wolves while you swoop in?" She asked,

"Who dares to touch him?” The silver haired woman demanded. Her voice cracked through the library like a gunshot. The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light from the windows, illuminated by the fading thunder of helicopter blades.John Roy, emboldened by a lifetime of his father’s unchecked power, found his voice first. "Who the hell do you think you are? This is a private residence! My father is General Arthur Vance! You have no authority here! Identify yourself!” He sneered, stepping forward, his earlier triumph over Malik’s beating fuel his recklessness. The woman – Director Croft – didn’t even glance at John. Her glacial eyes remained fixed on Vance, whose face had lost all color. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost."Director… I… I can explain…” Vance began, his voice strangled, a tremor running through his ramrod posture. Croft held up a single, gloved hand. Vance snapped his mouth shut. She finally turned her gaze to John