The night’s events still lingered in John’s mind like the lingering scent of an expensive perfume. Every turn, every conversation, every calculated risk he had taken replayed in his head during the drive home. His talk with King, in particular, looped like a film reel—his voice, his measured words, the weight of his praise.John kept wondering if it had all been a dream. He pinched himself once. Twice. A third time. No—this wasn’t fantasy. This was real. He had stood before one of the most powerful men in the room, earned his respect, and walked away with a treasure beyond value.The thought of his grandfather came next. John could almost see his face lighting up at the news, that knowing smile that only came when pride and nostalgia collided. His grandfather had taken countless risks in his lifetime, but tonight, it felt like the old man’s faith in him had paid off.And then there was the safe. Filled with gold. Waiting to be opened. A jackpot unlike any he could have imagined. John

In 2000, the Raymond name had almost been dragged through the dirt beyond repair. John’s grandfather still remembered the taste of it—bitterness, shame, and the slow-burning anger of knowing you’d been set up. The headlines had screamed his name in bold black letters, the vultures of the media tearing at him like he was already a carcass.And now, as he watched events unfold around John, he recognized the pattern instantly. This wasn’t a mere coincidence. He had been here before, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that a man on the brink of public ruin could make a mistake so final that no apology or strategy could undo it. He had to speak to John—before anger or despair pushed him into doing something irreversible.Back then, it had been New Year’s Eve. The world was dancing into a new millennium. He’d been out with friends, celebrating like everyone else—wine, music, and the reckless joy of entering a new decade. It was the first time in decades he’d allowed himself to have

The first thing John noticed was the steady hum of machines and the faint smell of antiseptic. His mind felt heavy, like he had been dragged out of a deep, dreamless pit. He tried to piece together the events that had led him here, but each thought came slowly, like cold molasses moving through his brain. Then, without warning, it all rushed back—every sound, every word, every moment from before he blacked out.He remembered the rough grip on his arms, the sting of the spray in his face, the disorienting darkness that swallowed him whole. And then, the voices.“The boss said not to kill him but to frighten the old man,” one of them had said with a snicker. “He needs some excitement, and this John is just too lucky. If not, today would have been his last day. And the girl’s phone that was stolen came in handy after all.”Their laughter had followed, loud and mocking, before their footsteps faded away. They had left him there—dumped like discarded luggage on a cold, unfamiliar floor.He

Anna didn’t waste a second. The moment she realised her phone was missing, she grabbed her keys, rushed out of the house, and sped toward the wine store. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, and her thoughts raced faster than the car itself. The phone wasn’t just a device—it held private messages, business accounts, and financial access codes. In the wrong hands, it could be a disaster.Before she even reached the store, she had already called the asset manager, her voice sharp and urgent, instructing him to freeze every single one of her accounts until further notice. It was the only thing she could do to buy herself some time. Thankfully, he assured her no suspicious transactions had been made—at least, not yet. That gave her a small wave of relief, but it didn’t slow her pace.When she pulled into the wine store’s parking lot, she stopped for a moment, taking deep breaths. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly. She couldn’t afford to make a scene before she even got in

Morning broke too soon for John. The walls of his hospital ward seemed to close in on him through the long hours of the night. He had not slept a wink; his mind was far too restless. Freedom was so close that every tick of the clock felt like an insult. All he wanted was to get discharged, to step out into the world again and leave the sterile scent of antiseptic behind.Before anyone else stirred, John had freshened up. He ate his meal quickly, barely tasting it. The minutes crawled by like hours until, at last, his nurse walked in for the final routine checks. She smiled faintly as she scribbled in her chart, signing the papers that would free him.And then it happened—just like that, he was no longer a patient.The corridors beyond the ward felt strangely bright as he stepped into them, his eyes searching instinctively for the person he had seen the night before. But there was no sign of them. Still, something inside him refused to give up hope.Outside, in the fresh air, Anna and