The scent of rosemary lamb and fine red wine clung to the air as waiters weaved between glass tables and cold glances. The Montgomery family estate was alight with celebration — not for him, of course. He was only the shadow trailing behind their precious daughter.Liam Carter stood near the back, half-hidden behind a curtain, wearing a suit that didn’t quite fit. The sleeves were too long. The collar too tight. He adjusted his tie for the third time and told himself he belonged. But he didn’t believe it.How could he with the way, they treated him like an outcast? He had at first thought they would change if they saw his sincerity and how much he loved Natalie but after three years and there hadn't been any improvement in their treatment of him, instead, their behavior towards him had worsened, he had given up hope that there ever would beTonight was the 60th birthday of Harold Montgomery, patriarch of the Montgomery family — and Liam’s father-in-law.He wasn’t invited to speak. Or

The city air was colder than it should’ve been for early spring. Liam sat on the curb outside the Montgomery estate, watching black cars and other fancy rides, drive by one after the other, and their laughter echoing behind tinted windows. He hadn’t spoken a word since he walked out. But he had not stopped thinking since then and even before then. His heart was heavy. Who was he going to blame for his pathetic situation? "I am really pathetic", he thought in his head. "Who continues to stay where he is not welcomed and with people who do not want nor appreciate him?" He scoffed in self mockery. Who else but himself - Liam Carter. He may not be rich but he had tried to make himself useful. Helping out in ways he knew how including doing domestic chores but they had never appreciated that. Instead it had increased their ridicule and humiliation of him. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it. It must be one of the Montgomerys, wanting to humiliate him even more. Or may

The limousine pulled up in front of the Montgomery estate. His driver opened the came out, rushed over to the owner's side and opened the door for the phantom inside. The bodyguards got down from other choice cars that formed his entourage snd lined up on both sides, awaiting his emergence, so he could walk between the two lines they had formed at the entrance. Flashes of camera lights bounced off its polished hood. Reporters leaned forward. A hundred eyes turned toward the door. And when it opened, the world stilled. Liam stepped out. Tailored black suit. Silver cufflinks. Jawline sharper. Posture unyielding. His once-unkempt hair was now slicked back with a precision that screamed power. No tie. Just presence. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. “Who is that?” someone whispered. “That’s Liam Carter,” another said, wide-eyed. “Wait… no. That’s Liam Hawthorne.” "He's so hot', some ladies cooed ogling him openly but he never once looked their way. They were the same peopl

Liam Hawthorne didn’t celebrate Charles Langston’s fall. He didn’t need champagne or press conferences. Real power didn’t announce itself — it moved silently, taking piece after piece until the throne stood empty. Montgomery Group was next. Liam wasn’t interested in pressuring them publicly. No lawsuits. No boardroom drama. He preferred the quiet war — asset by asset, ally by ally. Bleed them until they begged to be bought. His first target: Evermark Pharmaceuticals. It was one of Montgomery’s oldest suppliers — an institution in biotech with deep roots in East Coast trade circles. For years, it had been a quiet but loyal cog in the Montgomery machine. But Liam had done his homework. Wallace Greer, Evermark’s aging CEO, had never liked Harold Montgomery. They had clashed over acquisition strategy. Greer preferred longevity. Harold wanted fire-sale numbers and Wall Street claps. Greer had tolerated him — out of respect for the legacy. Liam’s opening shot was delivered with a sin

The gala shimmered like a mirage above the skyline — forty-three stories up, perched at the crown of the Reign Hotel, where the elite gathered to devour each other politely. Soft jazz floated through the champagne-laced air. Men in crisp Armani exchanged sharp pleasantries. Women in diamond-dusted gowns whispered rumors behind champagne flutes. It was less a party than a war of masks. And Liam Hawthorne walked in alone. His suit was tailored black, shirt unbuttoned just enough to signal rebellion. No tie. No cufflinks. Just that calm, lethal air he now wore better than any fabric. He didn’t plan to stay long. Just make his presence known. Collect a few strategic greetings. Remind them all that he was no longer the boy from nowhere, but the man who had gutted Montgomery Group in broad daylight. Then leave. That was the plan. Until he saw her. White satin flowed like smoke around her legs. Her heels struck the marble with calculated poise. Her black hair was twisted into a per