The night smelled of gun oil, sweat, and fear when Max and Daniel stepped into the warehouse. Their boots crunched over broken glass….echoes of Romero’s rage still hung in the air. The triad boss sat in his chair carved from black timber, his fingers tapping the armrest with a rhythm that spelled one thing; restraint. Romero wasn’t a man known for restraint. Max swallowed. Daniel did too, though he tried to hide it behind his stiff shoulders. They had chased death many times, but giving bad news to Romero always felt like choosing which blade to fall on, even though they were closer now due to years of alignment, he was still their boss. Romero didn’t look up when they approached. “Talk,” he commanded. And the word carried the weight of a verdict. Max went first. “Boss… we traced Steven Milton’s movements just like you asked.” Daniel stepped forward. “And… there’s something you need to hear before you react.” Romero lifted his head slowly, his eyes two black p

Jackson got to his feet, but his legs felt like lead. “Diana… I’m begging you. Please…” She shook her head, eyes glinting like shards of ice. “Begging doesn’t erase sin, Jackson. It never did.” His heart dropped as he realized the truth she wasn’t even saying, she might still love him, in some fragile, human corner of her heart but that love could no longer protect him. No words, no tears, no desperate pleas could shield him from the storm he had created. He fell back against the sofa, staring at the floor, the reality sinking in with a crushing weight. Romero’s threats, Steven’s survival, what the Guler's would do to him… they all paled compared to the devastation of losing Diana’s trust. The woman who had once been his anchor, now filled with rage and disgust, leaving him adrift in a world of his own making. Diana turned from the window, her face calm now, almost serene in its resolve. “I will not tell my father… yet,” she said softly. “But know this, Jackson, every li

The two men stood face to face. Jackson’s anger surging and with Finn’s authority, it was more like two storms crashing in silence. “Move,” Jackson said. “Make me,” Finn replied. Jackson’s hands curled. “Finn… don’t escalate this.” “Who escalated it first?” Finn stepped even closer. “You lied to her, you deceived her worse, you hurt her and you think marriage entitles you to drag her home?” “I made a mistake,” Jackson snapped. “I did it to protect the Milton name. I did it because… because Steven was—” “Because Steven was what? A threat to your existence?” Finn pressed. “Because he posed a threat to your baseless ambitious nature?” Jackson’s fingers shook. “You don’t understand.. Steven would’ve taken everything—my father’s approval, the board, the legacy…” Finn cut him off with a sharp, mocking laugh. “So you nearly killed a man over insecurity.” “It wasn’t like that!” “It was exactly like that,” Finn shot back. Jackson inhaled sharply. “I love her.” Fin

The door closed behind Jackson Milton with a sound too soft to be forgiveness and too final to be ignored. It was not the slam of a defeated man, It was the click of someone walking away because there was nothing left to fight with, he was hurt beyond imagining and that was worse than being defeated. This was his greatest fear in life losing Dianna but now, this was what was about to happen and he dreads it more than death itself and he wasn't going to give up. For a moment after, the mansion held its breath. The air felt as though Jackson's presence had left behind a residue, something sour and sharp that refused to dissipate. Even the lights seemed harsher now. Dianna remained standing in the center of the room, transfixed.. Her spine was straight, her chin lifted but the strength was artificial, the posture of someone who had learned long ago how to look composed while quietly unraveling. Finn watched her with the helpless restraint of a man who had fought many w

The night was heavy, humid, and quiet, save for the low hum of the city. Jackson’s car roared past the traffic lights, his vision blurred, hands trembling over the steering wheel. He was drunk, far beyond just a buzz, he could barely think straight, yet some irrational energy propelled him forward. He pressed harder on the accelerator, trying to outrun the weight of his own thoughts. The red and blue lights appeared behind him suddenly, flashing and stabbing at his eyes. Sirens screamed through the silence, and Jackson’s stomach dropped. “No… no, no, no…” he muttered, his words slurring. “They can’t… I didn’t do it… I didn’t do it…” He had just passed the traffic lights in full speed, now he was being chased but a guilty conscience often puts its owner in even more danger and that just might be the case of Jackson Milton tonight. He slammed the brakes slightly as he neared the next junction but then panicked. The car instead of stopping, he stomped the pedal down