SCOTT'S GUEST HOUSE Scott’s phone vibrated sharply against the armrest, pulling him out of sleep with a jolt. He blinked, groggy, realizing he’d dozed off on the couch. The television still flickered quietly in front of him—some late-night news recap murmuring about a political scene—but he barely registered the sound now.He picked up the phone, recognizing the name on the screen immediately.“Cara,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.“Sir,” her voice came through steady but filled with anticipation. “One of the thugs finally talked.”Scott straightened, fully awake now. “And?”“It was Gale Harrington,” she replied without hesitation.Scott exhaled slowly, not in surprise but in confirmation. “Of course,” he muttered. “I should’ve known. Hell, I did know. Evans probably would’ve told me the same if I had asked.”There was a pause, and then Cara added, “Do I have your permission to move? We can have that criminal in cuffs before he finishes his morning coffee tomorrow.”But S

As they both walked back into the mansion, Gale loosened his collar as he stepped into the living room, his once-confident posture slowly unraveling. Laura followed behind him, her heels stomping furiously against the floor until she stopped and spun toward him.“What. The. Hell. Was that?” she seethed.Gale didn’t answer immediately. He poured himself another glass of drink, his hands slightly shaking now—either from anger or disbelief, maybe both.“I asked you a question, Gale!” Laura snapped. “How is he alive? How is he standing there, dressed like that, with a lawyer and some Amazon warrior girl by his side, threatening us like we’re squatters in our own damn house?”Gale slammed the wine glass down on the table, the sharp crack of the crystal on wood making her flinch.“I don’t know!” he growled. “I don’t know how he managed to survive. I don’t know who that woman is. And I don’t know how the hell he got a lawyer—a damn good one, by the way—but what I do know is that he wasn’t su

HARRINGTON MANSION Scott's car pulled up to the grand circular driveway just as the heavy front door creaked open.Laura stepped out first, her long coat swaying with each step. Her expression was calm at first, until her eyes landed on the car and narrowed instantly. Gale followed behind her, closing the door, holding his keys loosely in one hand.The moment Scott and Leah stepped out of the car, an almost electric tension gripped the air.Laura froze mid-step. Gale came to a stop beside her, and after a long silence, he exhaled and said in a voice filled with defeat and contempt, “Are you happy now, Scott?”Scott’s eyes scanned the compound. The once-packed driveway was now almost empty, save for their single car. Not a single moving truck or staff member in sight.They had moved out.A satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of Scott’s lips. “Happy?” he repeated, like he was testing the taste of the word. “I’d say I’m content. The same way you both would’ve been—if it were the other

Laura sat on the couch with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, a glass of champagne in hand. Her best friend, Camilla, sat beside her, eyeing the stylists as they paraded dress after dress into the room.A stylist stepped forward, holding up a sleek white gown with delicate lace detail along the sleeves.“This one is from our classic couture collection,” she said. “Elegant, timeless—”Laura didn’t even look up. “I said I wanted a statement, not something someone’s aunt wore to her third wedding.”The stylist's smile faltered, but she quickly signaled the assistant to bring the next.Another dress came in—form-fitting with feathers and pearl details.“This is trending right now—”“I don’t follow trends,” Laura interrupted, swirling her champagne. “I set them. Next.”Camilla chuckled into her glass. “She’s not wrong.”The stylists exchanged glances, already visibly nervous.A third brought in a more daring piece—glittering gold embroidery, high slit, backless.“Better,” Laura sai

Scott sat behind his desk in the quiet of his private office. He heard the soft knock a second before the door opened and Mr. David stepped in, briefcase in hand.“Thanks for coming,” Scott said, motioning toward the seat across from him.“Of course,” Mr. David replied, setting his case down and taking a seat. “You said you had something important to show me?”Scott turned the screen of his laptop toward him and tapped a few keys. “I got these from someone on the inside—Mr. Evans, my former accountant. Cara helped get it all compiled and verified.”Mr. David leaned forward, his brows knitting as he studied the folder Scott opened. Spreadsheets, scanned memos, email screenshots, and financial statements filled the screen.“Start here,” Scott said, clicking on a particular document. “This memo is from Gale to the board’s interim chair right after the company was handed over. It outlines a supposed internal ‘restructure’—but look at the date. That restructure began before the sale was ev