The heavy iron doors clanked open, letting in a stream of early morning light that washed over the corridor like a quiet blessing. Inmates paused mid–conversation, mid–movement, turning toward the doorway as Frank stepped out. He was no longer in chains, no longer guarded, and no longer a number.He was now a free man, and to Frank, it was a dream come true for him. The night before had been long for him as he kept waiting for the break of dawn. Finally, after twenty two years, he was finally going to see how the real world looks like once again.“Frank!” one of the older inmates called out from the side of the yard, raising a hand. “Make sure you don’t come back, brother!”“Stay safe out there!” another shouted.Frank’s smile trembled with visible emotion as he walked toward them. He reached out, shaking hands, pulling a few of them into brief, rough hugs.“I’ll miss you all,” he said, voice thick. “Take care of yourselves, you hear? And don’t give these wardens reason to ride you.”

Ethan stood before the mirror, fixing the final button of his shirt, but his hands weren’t steady. No matter how he tried to disguise it, the tremor was there.The day was supposed to be perfect but his chest… it felt tight as though something was weighing heavily on it.He could still smell the cold metal of the cell bars of Fort-Tight that held him for five years. Still hear the screams down the hallway. Still feel the sting of betrayal from the man he had trusted with his life.He could still close his eyes and see the flash of that night—his team scattered, bodies dropping, the gunshots echoing in the canyon, the way they dragged him like an animal into the fortress no one ever walked out of.But he couldn't understand why everything was coming back fresh to him as though it just happened yesterday. Mr. Matthews' warning also came back again, and it made him worry even more. But he also knew there was nothing he could do to undo what he had already done, and that Frank was alread

Frank and Elizabeth returned to the wedding hall, and the moment they stepped in, the air in the grand hall, once thick with romance and anticipation, turned to ice.All eyes were pinned on the man standing beside the petrified Elizabeth. The older guests—those who remembered the scandal from two decades prior—felt a jolt of sickening recognition. The younger ones simply sensed the seismic shift in the room, the raw, unhinged energy emanating from Frank Harrington.Grandfather Robbins' face drained of all color. His knuckles, gripping the edge of the pew, turned bone-white.“Frank?” he breathed, the word a disbelieving whisper that somehow carried in the dead silence. This wasn’t just a surprise; it was an impossibility, a ghost from a past he had paid dearly to bury.Only Chloe and Rose showed no shock. Chloe stood tall, a vindictive gleam in her eyes as she watched her father command the room. Rose wore a mask of cool satisfaction, her gaze fixed on Lizzy’s trembling form. They we

“You buried him to save your golden son-in-law, Dad,” Rose continued, descending the stairs slowly, each click of her heels a punctuation mark. “You made Margaret a widow in spirit and made Chloe an orphan. Did you think there would be no consequences? That no one would ever care enough to dig him up?”“You,” Lizzy whispered, finding her voice at last. It was raw and broken. “You did this, Rose? You got him out?”Rose’s smile was thin and without warmth. “I merely facilitated a meeting, Elizabeth. The power to open those gates came from elsewhere. From a man of… considerable stature.” She let the description hang, her eyes gliding over Ethan for a fraction of a second too long. “Frank’s freedom is a testament to the fact that the truth refuses to stay buried. And now that he’s out, he’s going to want what’s owed to him. Starting with his share of the Robbins legacy. And perhaps,” she added, her gaze settling on Emma’s ruined gown, “a little restitution for lost time.”She had deliver

Rose sat in one of the private sitting rooms in the Robbins’ mansion , a glass of sherry in her hand, staring at the cold fireplace. The satisfaction of yesterday was still there, but it was already hardening into focus for the next move. Frank was free, the family was in chaos. Now came the part about claiming what was theirs.The door opened without a knock. Leif stood there, still in his rumpled clothes from the day before, his face a mask of confusion and brewing anger. He’d been drifting through the house like a ghost himself, unable to reconcile the mother he knew with the vindictive strategist he’d seen on the staircase.Rose didn’t look surprised. She took a slow sip of her sherry. “Leif. You look terrible. You should get some rest.”He didn’t move from the doorway. He ignored her greeting, the pleasantries feeling obscene after yesterday. The question that had been burning in him since he saw her cold, triumphant face in the foyer finally erupted.“Why?” His voice was flat,