The sun dipped low over Ironspire City, casting long shadows across the sprawling metropolis, its skyscrapers like jagged teeth gnawing at the twilight sky. The air hummed with the evening rush—horns blaring, pedestrians hustling home, the distant wail of sirens blending into the urban symphony. But cutting through it all was a convoy of over five armored cars, sleek behemoths in matte black, their reinforced hulls gleaming under the streetlights. Tires gripped the asphalt with a low growl as they surged toward the city capital, weaving through traffic with unyielding authority. Red and blue lights flashed intermittently from concealed strips, not for warning but for dominance, parting the sea of vehicles like a predator's glare. Inside the lead car, Saffron Veil enforcers sat rigid, batons holstered, visors down, their tuxedos crisp despite the day's violence. Victor Crane, the once-mighty tycoon, lay bound in the rear compartment of the middle vehicle—wrists and ankles lashed with z

Caleb, Warren’s stepbrother, knelt beside him, his pleas for mercy—“I’m your blood, Warren!”—fading into the night, drowned by the crowd’s restless hum. Phones glowed like fireflies, livestreams capturing every twitch, every snarl. The air crackled with anticipation, the city’s heartbeat synced to Warren’s slow, deliberate steps.Warren, the Shadow King of the Saffron Veil, stood at the center, his charcoal coat billowing slightly in the evening breeze, saffron cufflinks catching the light like drops of blood. His smile was a blade, sharp and unyielding, as he surveyed Victor—the man who’d once framed him, sent him to rot in Blackthorn Prison’s depths and was fucking his wife, in fact father the twins he thought were his. The crowd leaned in, sensing the weight of history about to be rewritten. “Victor Crane,” Warren’s voice cut through the silence, smooth but laced with venom, amplified by a hidden mic. “You built your empire on bones. Tonight, it crumbles.”Victor lunged, zip ties

The Crane mansion’s grand facade, once a beacon of untouchable wealth, stood stark against Ironspire’s predawn glow, its marble columns cold under the first light of morning. Inside, the living room was a tomb of shattered dreams—chandeliers dim, Persian rugs askew from Rachel’s frantic pacing. Rachel sat crumpled on the velvet sofa, her designer dress torn at the hem, her face streaked with mascara. Her twin, Samson and Sophie—Samson and Sophia, now eleven, their names a quiet rebellion against Victor’s expectations—clung to her, their small hands gripping her arms, eyes wide with fear. Anamika stood by the fireplace, her silk blouse wrinkled, her phone dead after hours of fruitless calls. The TV looped Warren’s triumph: Victor, bloodied and broken, sentenced to life in Blackthorn Prison, the Crane empire in ruins. Outside, the estate was eerily silent, Victor’s mercenaries and enforcers long fled, their taillights vanished into the night, spooked by the Shadow King’s unstoppable

Rachel, Samson, and Sophia huddled in the shadow of a concrete pillar, their makeshift shelter from the relentless glare. The red carpet was gone, rolled up by Warren’s lackeys, the convoy of luxury cars long vanished with the Shadow King, his new bride Cassandra, and their son Logan. The crowd had dispersed, leaving only the hum of Ironspire’s traffic and the occasional curious glance at the ragged trio. Rachel’s tattered dress clung to her sweat-soaked skin, the chipped coffee mug at her feet holding a meager handful of coins—barely enough for a loaf of bread. Samson and Sophia, eleven-year-old twins, sat cross-legged on the pavement, their once-fine clothes ripped and filthy, their faces smudged with dirt and dried tears. Hunger gnawed at them, their stomachs empty since the pretzel at dawn, their eyes hollow from a night on the streets.Rachel’s head hung low, her matted hair curtaining her face as she muttered apologies to the air, her voice cracked from begging. “We’ll find

Olivia, however was not always that week. The catalysis that made her seem weak was the lost of her father. Dan's ulterior motive was to secure being under the canopy, good grace and protection of the Otedola empire making him an easy target and prey for Lilith, now he was under the manipulation of Lilith and was well aware of the fate that awaits Olivia; Death. "Fine!" Olivia smirked all of a sudden and paused her tears, not letting her emotions get the better of her. She summoned the strength left within her and stood. "You betrayed me, Your loss!" With that said, she walked out of the room with a blank expressionless face. She was feeling a lot of pain but she was able to control herself from appearing weak in front of those bastards. Lilith didn't really mind, nor did Dan. After all she was a walking corpse. Immediately she got into her room, she locked herself in and slumped on the bed and hugged her teddy bear tightly with tears flowing down her eyes like a riv