Chapter 31 – Which Damian WinsThe silence in the boardroom was suffocating. What had once been a chamber of gleaming wood, glass, and power now felt like an execution chamber dressed in corporate polish. A dozen board members sat in a curved arc, their expressions veiled, their voices muted. On the far end of the table, two identical men leaned forward. Both claimed to be Damian Voss.And both were convincing.The board had been manipulated into entertaining what should have been absurd—a debate between duplicates—but the machinery of corporate procedure had been weaponized. The emergency clause, invoked during a CEO challenge, forced the board to “hear all claimants” when authority was in question. Someone—Lucian, no doubt—had engineered this scenario to perfection.The real Damian tightened his fists beneath the table. He could feel Elara’s eyes on him from her station near the wall, disguised as an aide, a tablet in her hand. Every beat of her pulse echoed through him like a warni

Chapter 32 – Exiled (Part 2)Damian sat at the desk in the penthouse, hands folded, head lowered as though he were in prayer. Outside the vast windows, the city glowed like a constellation at ground level, the lights smeared by drizzle clinging to the glass. Every building was a monument he had once controlled, a skyline that had risen at his command. Now it was hostile territory.“Say something,” Elara whispered, pacing the length of the room. She had her arms folded tightly against herself, nails digging into her sleeves. “You’ve been staring at the same spot on the desk for twenty minutes. Are you even listening?”He lifted his head slowly, the shadow of exhaustion etched across his face. “I’m listening. I’m also calculating. Every word, every move, has to count now.”Her steps faltered. “Calculating what?”“How to dismantle Lucian’s victory without him knowing I’ve started.” Damian leaned back in his chair. “When you’ve lost the crown, the battlefield changes. You don’t fight on t

Chapter 35- Blood Isn’t BlindThe hum of violins floated through the ballroom like silk unraveling in the air. The chandeliers above blazed with light, each crystal refracting into a kaleidoscope of golden brilliance. The party was spectacle layered upon spectacle—politicians in tailored tuxedos, heirs dripping diamonds, and journalists sipping champagne like it was holy water. All of it, Damian thought, a mask for rot.And in the center of it all stood the clone. His face. His posture. His stolen life. Every gesture was calculated, perfected from muscle memory that wasn’t earned. Damian’s throat tightened as he watched from the shadows, his tray of flutes balanced like a shield. He was just another server tonight, pressed into anonymity with a starched collar and bowtie.But his eyes never left her.His mother.She was standing by the clone’s side, one hand delicately looped through his arm. Silver silk draped across her shoulders, her poise regal as ever. The very picture of a matri

Chapter 37 – The Boy’s ChoiceDamian had faced death in more ways than he could count—guns at his head, poison in his veins, knives pressed against his throat. But nothing had prepared him for this: the pounding silence of walking into a place where his past and his future converged, where the boy he had once sworn to protect was now being raised as a weapon against him.The private research facility loomed like a scar across the earth, its polished glass and steel façade almost obscene in its sterility. Hidden beneath the shell of a legitimate biotech subsidiary he had once owned, it was now Lucian’s playground. A fortress of science and shadow, humming with power from its underground generators.The Huntress had warned them that entering would be suicide. “Clone enforcers everywhere. Surveillance layered in redundancies. If we step foot inside, we’re on borrowed time.”But Damian had only said one thing in response: “I need to see him.”Now, clad in stolen security uniforms, he, Ela

Chapter 39 – Double CrossedThe Huntress always smiled like she was winning a game no one else could see.It made Damian’s skin crawl.He didn’t trust mercenaries, never had, and certainly not one who treated morality as a negotiable line item. Yet here she was, sitting in the corner of his penthouse’s war room, her booted feet propped on the polished steel table as if she owned the place. The skyline stretched behind her in a wash of glass and light, but all Damian could see was the glint in her eyes—sharp, predatory, self-assured.She had agreed too quickly, too easily. Claiming the role of buyer. Offering herself as bait. And while she had dressed it up as a tactical necessity, Damian knew enough about hunters to recognize the scent of personal prey. She wanted something out of this deal—something more than money, more than leverage.And until he knew what it was, she was as dangerous as Lucian himself.Elara paced the room, agitation bleeding through every gesture. “I don’t like t