Lucas sighed deeply, his chest rising and falling as if he had just walked through a storm. He knew genuine apologies when he saw one, and this was not ordinary.Contrary to how Isla had reacted earlier when she first sighted him upon his return from Jamaica, standing tall, arrogant, and dismissive as he walked into the hall for the Velmorian National event, her posture now was the complete opposite.He had always known Isla to be rude, careless with her words, and quick to look down on others as though they were beneath her. That was her nature. She spoke nonchalantly, carried herself with pride, and mocked without remorse. Yet here she was, broken and kneeling, her tears staining the floor as her hands clutched at him desperately. That alone meant only one thing.She was genuinely sorry.The irony did not escape Lucas. Only moments ago, she had been desperate to have him for herself, especially after learning of his true status. She had gone as far as pointing a gun at him, threate

“Fucking get outta the fucking car!” one voice snapped like a whip through the night. Before Lucas could react, they yanked him forward by the collar, gripping him so tightly that he couldn’t even raise a hand to rip the veil off his face. His body slammed into the cold steel frame of the car before they shoved him hard into the back seat.He collapsed like dead weight across the leather cushions. His chest still rose and fell, proof that he was alive, but his eyes had rolled back, and his limbs hung lifeless. The cloth pressed against his face had been soaked and infused with a heavy gas, something designed to knock a man out within seconds, leaving him vulnerable, helpless, and easy prey.With one swift motion, they seized control of the steering wheel and sped away. The screech of the tires cut into the silence as the car lunged forward.Not far behind, another set of men were in motion. As Jeruel’s car rolled to a halt, two figures in the back seat stepped out immediately, weapon

They fell to the ground, bullets lodged in their knees. Their screams pierced the silence, echoing through the abandoned warehouse. Their bodies writhed with sharp, enduring aches, and every groan of pain filled the air with raw desperation. Lucas stood firmly among them, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed with burning focus.He wanted answers. He wanted to know who had sent them. There was no possible way these men had acted on their own. Someone had covered his face with a veil, dragged him to this deserted place, and threatened his life. That kind of precision didn’t come without orders.Slowly, Lucas walked toward Black, who lay groaning on the concrete floor, clutching his wounded knee. He crouched down, sat on him, and yanked his collar tight enough to pull his attention.“Who sent you?” Lucas demanded, his voice like steel. He pressed the barrel of his pistol against Black’s head, frowning as his eyes searched for a crack in his defiance.But instead of fear, Black erupted in

Lucas stepped out of the boardroom, the weight of the past few hours pressing heavily on his shoulders. The silence of the corridor felt almost unreal compared to the chaos he had just endured.Only three hours ago, he had been in the warehouse, fighting desperately against the goons who had kept him intrapped. The memory of fists, shouts, and the sharp sting of adrenaline was still vivid in his veins. But that ordeal ended when Jeruel arrived, bringing both the police and his aide with him. From that moment, Lucas had returned to the company, his sense of duty forcing him back into the very world he was born to rule.He reminded himself firmly that he was the heir. And heirs could not allow themselves to collapse under pressure. Responsibility was his inheritance, and it demanded his attention.As he stepped out of the boardroom door, his cell phone rang sharply, breaking through the thick quiet of the hallway. The sound echoed in the stillness, almost like an alarm that called him b

“That motherfucker!” Lorenzo clenched his fist tightly against the desk in his office, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room.Kneeling before him was White, his loyal subordinate. The man had just delivered the grim report: Black had failed his mission. Worse still, he had taken his own life inside the cell, abiding by the ironclad rule that failure meant death.Lorenzo furrowed his brow, but there was no trace of sorrow in his expression. Black’s death stirred no remorse within him. Black was meant to die. If he hadn’t ended his own life, Lorenzo would have gladly done it himself. What twisted his expression now was not grief, but pure, simmering anger.He knew Black had been arrested. He knew Black had taken the coward’s exit in his cell. Which left only one undeniable truth.The fucking Virellis heir was no longer in captivity. He was free, flying like a bird beyond the reach of the cage Lorenzo had built. Free, in spite of the careful traps, in spite of every shred of eff