The elevator hummed softly as it carried Steven down from the penthouse. The city below glimmered like molten glass, yet his mind was elsewhere — in a conversation he couldn’t afford to mishandle. Princewill waited by the car, one hand in his pocket, the other holding two takeaway coffees. His smile was effortless. “You look like you’re heading to an ambush, not a meeting,” he teased. Steven accepted the coffee, smirking. “With Luisa Payne, it’s both.” Princewill laughed, unlocking the sleek black Bentley. “Ah, Mrs. Payne, if only the world knew who you were and how much you hate leaving the penthouse except of course you want to run away, that alone should make headlines.” “Careful,” Steven replied, sliding into the back seat. “If the papers ever find out, you’ll be my first suspect.” Princewill grinned as he drove out of the underground garage. “Relax. I don’t talk to journalists. They don’t pay enough for my kind of loyalty.” “Good,” Steven said, glancing out a

Mr. Payne laughed, genuinely this time, the tension dissolving like steam. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.” But as Steven gathered his things and prepared to leave, Mr. Payne’s gaze lingered on him again, that same warmth, but tinged with thought. There was something about the man’s composure, the way he carried silence like a weapon. It unsettled and impressed him at once. Luisa walked them to the door, her hand brushing briefly against Steven’s arm in a gesture so subtle even her husband wouldn’t have noticed. Her voice, however, carried its usual calm grace. “Thank you for coming, Steven. As always, it’s a pleasure to work with you.” “The pleasure’s mine, Mrs. Payne,” Steven said, his tone softer now, respectful, sincere. “Your insight remains unmatched.” She smiled faintly, her gaze steady on his. “Take care of yourself.” Princewill glanced between them but said nothing. He could feel the unspoken weight between them, loyalty, trust, and something deeper that neith

Dianna turned, raising an eyebrow. “Again?” He nodded, sitting down beside her. “Yes, about the Kahuna Empire deal.” “That mystery company everyone’s whispering about?” she asked, lowering the volume. “You actually met their CEO?” Jackson leaned back, recalling the glass walls and Princewill’s expressionless calm. “Yes. Princewill. Sharp mind, very composed and very hard to read.” Dianna smiled faintly. “So… you’re impressed.” “Maybe,” Jackson admitted. “But he’s making us dance around him. Helen thinks he’s testing us.” Dianna tilted her head slightly. “Helen thinks?” He caught the edge in her tone and looked at her carefully. “She’s leading most of the pitch, you know that.” “Mm.” She gave a small, knowing hum. “And she likes him.” Jackson blinked. “What?” “Don’t look so shocked, Jack,” Dianna said softly. “I know that look. I’ve seen it before in boardrooms, when women start speaking softer around powerful men. She admires him… maybe more than she realizes.”

Across the city, Princewill sat in his private study at KE headquarters, a glass of brandy untouched beside him. His assistant, Roland, stood nearby with a file. “They’re hooked,” Roland said quietly. “You could end it now and they’d still keep hoping for weeks.” Princewill didn’t look up. “Hope keeps people loyal, Roland. Fear only works for a while, but hope... keeps them coming back.” Roland chuckled softly. “The daughter’s becoming rather… taken with you, sir.” Princewill finally looked up, his expression unreadable. “Helen Milton? She’s perceptive. Curious. But she’s not the first to mistake intrigue for affection.” “You’re playing a long game,” Roland said. Princewill smirked faintly. “It’s not a game. It’s business. The Miltons are loud, impulsive, emotional. I need them… contained. Hope is the leash.” He turned to the window, gazing at the glowing skyline of Riverage below. The city was alive with Kahuna’s legend, but in rooms like this, control was quieter, more prec

By Sunday morning, Riverage City woke to an even more intense scandal. No one saw it coming, not the businessmen who dined with the Miltons, not the employees who wore their brand name proudly, and certainly not the family themselves. The storm arrived before dawn, splashed across every digital headline and printed on the front page. RIVERAGE DAILY: “KAHUNA EMPIRE REJECTS MILTON HOLDINGS OVER QUESTIONABLE ETHICS.” CNN BUSINESS: “INSIDE THE FAILED DEAL: CASINO TIES AND THE SHADOWS OF MILTON HOLDINGS.” FINANCE WATCH: “ONCE TRUSTED, NOW TARNISHED — THE FALL OF A LEGACY.” By midmorning, the Milton mansion was under siege by reporters. The driveway, lined with glossy cars, had become a battlefield of microphones and flashing cameras. “Mrs. Milton, any comment?” “Is it true your son runs illegal casinos?” “Did Kahuna’s team hand over evidence to the press?” Helen pulled the heavy curtains shut, her heart pounding. Each voice outside was another dagger of humiliation. She could