Jedro’s hands slammed onto the table, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “Don’t you dare put him above us. Above family.” “I don’t want to!” she cried, her voice breaking. “But you’re forcing me to choose. You don’t know him like I do. You don’t see the man who stays up with me when I can’t sleep, who listens when no one else does, who makes me feel alive. He loves me, Jedro. And I love him.” Her last words hung in the air. Jedro’s face twisted, hurt flashing beneath his anger. “You love him so much you’d defend him against your own blood?” Dianna’s chest rose and fell rapidly. Tears slipped, but her voice held steady. “Yes. A thousand times, if I have to.” Finn’s eyes closed, the weight of her words striking like a physical blow. When he spoke, his voice was softer, weary. “You sound like your mother when she was young. Fierce and unyielding. But your mother learned, Dianna. She learned that love is not always what it seems, and you will too.” “Don’t use her memory again

For a moment, the weight of her words hung heavy. Belief was dangerous in the Circle. But it was also fuel. Steven finally looked up, his expression carved from steel. “Let the Bureau be the first lesson,” he said. “But definitely not the last.” And as the silver lamps burned low, President Kahuna swore silently to himself that he would not only lead the Black Ledger Circle. He would become the shadow that swallowed the world. Now that he has the power, he might as well make an impact until his Matron Elias Smith returns, but until then, he would lead the organisation to its full potential. **** The chamber of the Black Ledger Circle was not made for ordinary men. Polished obsidian walls curved around the long, crescent-shaped table, its surface with silver and gold etchings of the Circle’s crest. The air carried a weight that seemed older than time itself, the weight of decisions that had toppled empires and created dynasties. Tonight, every seat was filled. Cloak

“A client,” Steven said. “You do tasks, we protect you and in return, you move files, slow reports, adjust access. No one gets hurt because of a missed memo. But careers… shift.” Alistair’s mouth twitched. “You’re offering leverage.” “I’m offering an exit ramp,” Steven said. “With pay.” Margo glanced at Luisa. “And if we say no?” Luisa’s smile was the kind that understood fear. “Then the door opens, and you never remember we wanted anything.” Jonah looked at his hands. “And if we say yes?” Steven met his eyes, steady even human. “Then you become indispensable to yourself.” He didn’t threaten. He didn’t need to. He made the future feel heavier than the present. One by one, they nodded, the poison had begun to move into their bloodstream, gentle, tasteless, assured. As they were escorted out, Thiago’s cane tapped twice. “You risk much when you involve the fallible.” “Everyone is fallible,” he said. “The trick is to give their fall a direction.” Thiago’s eyes thinn

Rowan watched through the glass, hands folded. Tabitha kept her tone steady, she was almost at the verge of losing it but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break, “Who paid you?!” “*sighs* no mood for playing around I suppose, well then, a banker,” he said. “No name, no face. His voice was something like melting ice.” Tabitha’s eyes flicked, remembering Katrina Voss’s crisp vowels. She said nothing. “Did you alter our systems?” she asked. “I only taught a mirror how to reflect,” he said. “If you’re seeing something you don’t like, perhaps it’s you.” Tabitha leaned back. “You’re going to prison.” He stopped smiling. “No, I’m not.” She stood. “Yes, you are.” He fidgeted. “You don’t understand.” She looked at him for a time that made him feel like a small boy under a teacher’s gaze. “I understand perfectly.” When she left, he started to sweat. Herod Breech thought he was only there for questioning and that he would be left to go back, but now that

The Milton estate was cloaked in silence that evening, there was tension thick and humming, as though the very walls of the house carried echoes of the argument earlier, it still lingered even though it was an hour ago. Harry Milton retreated to his study, drowning in thoughts that gnawed at his pride. Sarah, meanwhile, climbed the staircase with quiet determination, a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth in her hands. Her steps were measured and deliberate, the weight of both wife and mother pressing on her shoulders. She paused outside Jackson’s door, her heart tightening. When she finally pushed it open, she found her son sitting by the window, the lamp painting shadows across his face. His lip was swollen, bruised purple, and a thin trail of dried blood still on his chin. Yet his eyes, those defiant and stormy eyes still burned with the same fire that had provoked his father earlier. “Jackson,” Sarah whispered gently as she set the bowl on the nightstand. “Let