The conference room at the Prestwick dynasty headquarters buzzed with a palpable tension, the air thick with the scent of polished wood and the faint trace of the matriarch’s lavender perfume. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the morning skyline of Vantage District, but no one noticed the view. At the head of the long mahogany table sat Hailey Prestwick, the matriarch, her silver hair gleaming under the chandelier, her emerald eyes sharp and unyielding. Flanking her were the board of directors, a mix of stern-faced executives and select Prestwick family members: Winston, Eleanor’s father, puffing on his ever-present cigar; Eleanor’s mother, Beatrice, with her tight-lipped frown; Eleanor herself, her diamond earrings glinting as she scribbled notes; and Hannah, seated quietly near the end, her professional attire crisp despite the weight of her new reality. The atmosphere crackled with unease—a business meeting with the matriarch was rare, and when it happened, it signaled a crisis tha

The evening sun hung low over Greywall, turning the cracked sidewalks orange and gold as John and Hannah left the apartment building. The air was cool, carrying the smell of street food and the distant noise of cars. Hannah slipped her arm through John’s, her simple dress swaying in the breeze, a softer choice compared to her usual work clothes. John, dressed in his old jacket and jeans, felt both excited and cautious. This was their first real date; a chance to get closer, but also a test in the guarded life he lived."Where to?" Hannah asked, her voice light, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him.John smiled, guiding her toward the busier end of the street. "There's a little park a few blocks away... nothing fancy, but it's got food trucks and a nice view of the river. We can grab something to eat, talk.""Sounds perfect," she said, squeezing his arm. "Lead the way, Mr. Whitaker."As they walked, the district came alive around them—kids playing on stoops, couples arguing in do

The police car raced through the dark city streets, its sirens flashing now and then to push aside the little traffic left at night. In the backseat, squeezed between two burly officers—Officer Ramirez on his left, a no-nonsense veteran with a scar across his cheek, and Officer Hale on his right, a younger cop with a perpetual scowl—Richard seethed. His hands were cuffed behind his back, the metal biting into his wrists, but that didn't stop his mouth from running. The interior of the car smelled of stale coffee and cheap air freshener, a far cry from the leather-scented luxury of his SUV."You idiots have no idea what you've just done," Richard snarled, twisting uncomfortably against the seat. "I'm Richard Ferguson, and Ferguson Enterprises owns half this goddamn city! My family's been pulling strings since before you were born. One call to the mayor, and you'll be flipping burgers by morning. Hell, I'll buy the whole precinct and turn it into a parking lot!"Officer Ramirez glanced

John leaned back against the couch, his hand still resting gently on Hannah’s. Droplets from his shower cooled on his skin as the apartment settled into silence, broken only by the faint hum of traffic outside. He studied her face, the worry etched deeper with every second, and that familiar pang of guilt tugged at him. She deserved more than this endless struggle, more than living under the shadow of the Prestwick legacy like a blade waiting to fall.But telling her who he really was now? That could destroy everything they’d been building in these fragile early days. No, he had to deal with the invitation mess first, quietly, through Evelyn. For now, all he could do was focus on easing her heart, lifting her out of the weight she carried."Look," he said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "I know it's tough, but you've got this. You're smarter and tougher than Eleanor or Richard combined. They've got invitations? Fine. But invitations don't win deals... peo

The sun hung high over the Prestwick Family mansion that warm afternoon of August. Its golden rays shimmered across the wide green lawns and glinted off the fountain bubbling at the center of the circular driveway. The estate was a show of old money—towering white columns, ivy crawling up stone walls, and heavy iron gates that whispered wealth and exclusivity.As the gates slid open with a low mechanical hum, a sleek black SUV rolled inside, its tires crunching over the gravel path. The car came to a smooth stop in front of the grand entrance, its engine purring before cutting off.The driver’s door opened first, but all eyes went to the passenger side. Richard Ferguson stepped out. He adjusted his navy blue suit—tailored to perfection, paired with a silk tie and polished loafers that carried the quiet arrogance of Ferguson wealth. But the elegance of his clothes couldn’t hide the truth written on his face.His skin was mottled with bruises, dark purple and fading yellow around his sw