The shot thundered through the courtyard like a hammer cracking stone. For a heartbeat, silence then chaos. Redington crumpled backward, the rifle slipping from his trembling hands, his chest blooming red. His body hit the stones hard, his eyes wide, lips parting in a ragged gasp.Jonathan (roaring): “NO!”The courtyard exploded.The CollapseJonathan dropped beside him, shoving his own hands against the wound, his voice a ragged storm.Jonathan: “Stay with me, damn you! You don’t get to die like this not by your own hand!”Redington’s chest heaved shallowly. Blood bubbled against Jonathan’s palms.Redington (whispering): “I said I’d be free”Jonathan (snapping, furious): “You think this is freedom? Lying in the dirt while they laugh? No, get up, Get UP!”Behind them Victor cursed, his voice sharp.Victor: “The fool shot himself, our problem solved.”Isabella (laughing nervously): “Solved? Look at Hale, he’s unraveling. This is better than any bullet we could have fired.”Lucille (col

The boardroom air felt thick, oppressive, almost suffocating. Jonathan sat rigidly at the long mahogany table surrounded by the sharp suits and sharper eyes of men and women who’d spent their lives treating power as both weapon and currency.He had been raised in such an atmosphere, yet today he felt strangely out of place. Across from him, Gregory Redington stood taller than Jonathan had ever seen him. Once just the shadow in the corners of their home, now he was a presence that demanded attention.The humiliation Jonathan had poured over him like water for years no longer clung instead, it evaporated into something dangerous, something unshakable. Jonathan forced his lips into a sneer.Jonathan: “So this is what you’ve become? A clown in a suit, pretending you belong at this table?”Gregory: quiet, steady “Pretending is what you’ve been doing all your life, Jonathan. Pretending to be strong, pretending to be the heir your father never wanted you to be.”The words struck harder than

The explosion rocked the Sebastian estate like a giant’s fist. Glass shattered, the chandelier above the grand staircase swung violently before crashing into shards. Flames licked the eastern wing, smoke rolling through the corridors like a predator on the hunt.Gregory staggered but steadied himself, his body tense, his instincts sharp. He scanned Jonathan who still knelt bleeding on the floor, cackling through his pain.Gregory: “What did you do?”Jonathan: grinning through blood “The beginning of the end, you’ll never hold this empire. It’ll bury you alive.”Detective Ayers rushed forward, yanking Gregory back as part of the ceiling cracked above them.Detective Ayers: “Move! This place is coming down!”Jonathan groaned, clutching his wound, crawling toward the wall. Gregory hesitated every muscle screaming to leave him there to let the flames finish what years of cruelty had started.But something inside twisted an old, bitter remnant of the boy who once begged for Jonathan’s appr

The gunfire had long since stopped, but the ringing in Gregory’s ears remained, like the echo of a nightmare refusing to die. Smoke drifted lazily in the air.The acrid sting of gunpowder clung to his throat, bitter and suffocating. And beneath him, Jonathan Carmichael’s body was going cold.“Sir… sir, wake up… you can’t…” Gregory’s voice broke, his hands pressing desperately against the wound in Jonathan’s chest. His palms were slick with blood far too much blood. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat screaming denial.Jonathan’s eyes fluttered open just a fraction, cloudy with pain. His lips moved, but no sound came. “Don’t talk,” Gregory whispered, his voice shaking. “Save your strength. You’re going to be fine, you have to be fine.”Jonathan’s trembling hand lifted slowly, brushing Gregory’s arm. “Son” His voice was barely audible, cracked and broken.Gregory’s throat closed up. He shook his head violently tears blurring his vision. “Don’t call me that now not like this. You’

The storm outside lashed the windows of the Carmichael estate, wind shrieking as if the world itself conspired to drown out the sounds of violence within. The marble-floored study, usually a sanctum of power, was stained with blood and shattered pride.Gregory slumped in the high-backed chair, his shirt soaked scarlet, his breaths jagged. Across from him, Elias Carmichael’s face was twisted with rage, while Kane, ever the serpent, leaned casually against the desk, a glass of scotch untouched in his hand.“You don’t get it, do you?” Elias snarled, pacing in front of Gregory. “You’re nothing, you always were and yet somehow you crawl into power, worming your way into Jonathan’s shadow. But it ends here tonight.”Gregory lifted his head, his voice hoarse but steady. “Funny that’s exactly what Jonathan once said to you.” The room froze for a heartbeat, Elias’s fury gave way to something darker fear, Kane broke the silence with a laugh that was cold and deliberate.“Still has teeth,” Kane