The days dragged by with unbearable slowness, each one heavier than the last. Yet, while time seemed to crawl, the tension moved in the opposite direction... growing, tightening, suffocating everything around it. Steven sat quietly in his office, his fingers resting against his temple as his eyes remained fixed on the calendar pinned to the wall. The date was circled boldly in red ink. Two weeks... only two weeks left before the wedding. The thought should have filled him with anticipation… with excitement… with certainty. Instead, it filled him with unease. Because nothing felt certain anymore. The scandal that had surfaced days ago refused to die. Like a stubborn fire, it continued to burn quietly beneath the surface, sending thin trails of smoke into every corner of his life. At first, it had only been whispers. Then quiet conversations. Then subtle glances. Now… it was everywhere. No one openly accused him at least not yet, but Steven knew better than anyone

The moment the words left Steven’s lips, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It wasn’t loud, worse yet it wasn’t chaotic but was quiet. Dangerously quiet, Lionel’s breathing became uneven as two men stepped forward and grabbed his arms firmly. His body stiffened immediately, panic rushing through his veins like ice water. "W-Wait… please… please…" he stammered, struggling slightly. But the men didn’t respond. They dragged him across the polished floor, his shoes scraping faintly against the marble. Every small sound echoed loudly in the silent room. Princewill watched quietly, his expression unreadable. He had known Steven for years, he had seen him angry. He had seen him cold, but this… this was different. Steven wasn’t just angry, he was deeply wounded. And a wounded man like Steven Kahuna was far more dangerous than an angry one. Lionel’s heart pounded violently as he was pushed into a chair at the center of the room. The chair wasn’t anything specia

The drive to the hospital felt endless. Jackson sat in the back seat of the car, his left arm pressed tightly with a cloth that was already soaked with blood. His breathing was uneven, his face pale, but his jaw remained clenched stubbornly. “Sir… please stay with me,” his driver said nervously, glancing repeatedly at the rearview mirror. Jackson nodded faintly. “I’m fine…” he muttered, though the pain was anything but fine. His fingers trembled slightly as blood gushes out of his hand. There was complete blood loss... lots of it. The pain burned through his arm, spreading slowly through his shoulder, making his head spin, but even through the haze… One thought remained clear, Steven. The timing, the confrontation and the warning. "You don’t know what’s coming, Jackson." The words replayed in his mind. Jackson closed his eyes briefly. Was this Steven? If he was then he had gone too far, and he will retaliate if he could. Jackson’s chest tightened. He

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft metallic whisper, sealing Steven inside a silence that felt heavier than the air itself. He didn’t move. His reflection stared back at him from the polished steel... sharp jaw, dark eyes, a face carved from tension and control. But beneath that calm exterior, his mind churned relentlessly. Two weeks. Just two weeks until his wedding. And everything was falling apart like this. The scandal had spread faster than wildfire. Whispers in business circles. Headlines hinting at controversy, private calls that stopped abruptly when he entered rooms. His name, Steven Kahuna—being dragged into conversations he had no patience for. And worst of all… Jennifer and Luisa being adamant on postponing the wedding. His jaw tightened as the memory replayed. Earlier that evening... before he heard about Jackson being shot his phone had buzzed. Jennifer’s name had appeared on the screen. He answered almost immediately. “Jennifer.” He

That evening, Steven stood alone inside his penthouse, his tall figure silhouetted against the floor-to-ceiling glass walls. The city stretched endlessly beneath him... a sea of glittering lights, moving headlights, distant skyscrapers, and silent promises. Normally, the view calmed him. Tonight, it did something else entirely. The silence felt… different. Less tense. Less heavy. But not peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that came before something shifted. Steven slipped one hand into his pocket, the other holding a glass of untouched whiskey. He hadn't taken a sip. He wasn't in the mood for alcohol. His thoughts were clearer than they'd been in weeks and that alone unsettled him. His phone buzzed against the glass table behind him. He didn't turn immediately. He already knew who it was, Jennifer. The screen glowed softly, her name flashing across it. Steven walked over slowly, picked it up, and answered. "Hello." Her voice came through, soft… cautious.