***Back at the Guler Estate*** The night had grown quiet way too quiet. Inside his private study, Finn Guler sat alone before the fireplace. The flames danced lazily. Casting long shadows across the room. A glass of aged whiskey rested untouched beside him. His eyes remained fixed on the fire. Thinking, reflecting and remembering. Jackson's visit had stirred old thoughts, thoughts that Finn had long buried. The old lion exhaled slowly. Steven Kahuna. A name that carried weight. A name that now made powerful men lose sleep. Most people saw a ruthless businessman. A conqueror. A destroyer. A man who showed no mercy to his enemies. But Finn knew better. Because long before Steven became the man feared by entire industries... Finn had known the young man beneath the legend. And if there was one thing Finn understood, it was this: Steven Kahuna never attacked without reason, never. The destruction of the Milton Group wasn't random. It wasn't

Jackson Milton barely slept. The black card remained on the small wooden table beside his worn-out couch throughout the night. Waiting, mocking and reminding him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the silver insignia embossed on its surface. Kahuna Holdings. Steven's mark. His brother's mark. Or at least, the man who had once been his brother. Jackson laughed bitterly at the thought. Brother. What a ridiculous word. The two of them had been at loggerheads for as long as he could remember. Even when they were children. Even before money. Before companies. Before power. There had always been competition, always comparison, always resentment. Steven had been the biological son. The supposed pride of the Kahuna family, but he (Jackson) became the boy everyone admired. The boy everyone trusted. Meanwhile, Steven lived and endured as though he was the adopted child, the outsider. The one constantly trying to prove he belonged. Trying to prov

The room remained deathly silent. Jackson couldn't take his eyes off the photographs scattered across the table. Each one was a ghost from his past, a mistake. And Steven possessed every single one. For years, Jackson had convinced himself those events were buried. Forgotten, but now he realized the horrifying truth. Steven had known about it all this time. He stood by the fireplace, calm like a judge delivering a sentence that had already been decided long ago. Jackson finally found his voice. "What now?" The question came out weaker than he intended. Steven slowly turned toward him. His expression remained unreadable. "What now?" A faint smile appeared on his face. Not a pleasant smile. The kind that made a man's stomach turn. "Now you understand." Jackson frowned. "Understand what?" Steven's eyes hardened. "Why you have nothing." The answer struck like a hammer... Steven Kahuna took several slow steps forward. "You spent years telling yourself I destroyed yo

Thousands of miles away. Inside a luxurious seaside villa protected by armed guards and security systems, Al-Hakimi stood on a private balcony overlooking the dark ocean. The waves crashed against the rocks below. The night was calm. Peaceful. And for the first time in years, so was he. A glass of aged wine rested in his hand as he stared at the horizon. A faint smile played on his lips. The storm had passed. At least that was what he believed. Months earlier, after realizing Steven Kahuna was relentlessly uncovering the truth, Al-Hakimi had made a calculated move. A very calculated move. He had handed Steven evidence. Not all of it, but enough. Enough documents. Enough communications. Enough financial records. Enough proof to expose Jackson Milton's involvement. Enough to redirect Steven's fury. Enough to paint himself as merely a businessman who had been dragged into another man's schemes. And since then? Nothing. No retaliation, no attack

Al-Hakimi removed the chess piece from his desk, slowly and carefully. As though it might burn him should he remove it any other way. The black king felt heavier than it should have. Or maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He turned it over, there was nothing, no tracking devices, no hidden message. Just a perfectly carved piece of wood. Which somehow made it worse. Because it meant someone had physically placed it there. Inside his home, inside his office, past his guards, past everything he had built to feel untouchable. His jaw tightened. "Find out who delivered this." His voice was calm, too calm. One of his security heads nodded immediately. "We are already reviewing footage, sir." "Good." But even as he spoke, Al-Hakimi already knew what they would find. Nothing useful. Men like Steven Kahuna didn’t leave obvious footprints. They left consequences. Only consequences. Al-Hakimi leaned back in his chair. For the first time i