Chapter 103 The private jet touched down in Switzerland under a blanket of soft gray clouds. The mountains stood tall in the distance, their peaks wrapped in mist, while the cold wind swept across the runway, carrying with it the faint scent of pine.Inside the jet, the hum of the engines faded slowly as the crew made their final checks.Mrs. Morrelo sat beside her son’s stretcher, her hand still gripping his — she had held it all through the flight. The hours had dragged like years. Every dip, every turbulence made her heart race with fear.Now, as the doors opened, a gust of cold air swept in, chilling her bones but clearing her mind.They had arrived.“Welcome to Zürich, Mr. and Mrs. Morrelo,” a man in a dark blue uniform said as he climbed aboard. His English carried a crisp Swiss accent. “We have everything prepared. The ambulance and medical escort are ready.”Behind him stood two men and a woman, all in white coats — the transport team from the Rosendale Neurological Institute

Chapter 105The room was quiet except for the steady, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. The faint smell of antiseptic hung in the air. Alexander lay still, his face pale, his chest rising and falling softly. Though his eyes were closed, his mind was not silent—it was trapped somewhere between dream and memory, between the living world and something far beyond it.He could hear faint whispers at first—voices that sounded familiar but distant, like echoes carried by wind. “Alexander… my son…”He turned in the darkness, searching for the source of the voice. The ground beneath his feet was white, smooth like marble, but it stretched endlessly. There was no sky, no walls—only light. Then he saw her—his mother, Mrs. Morrelo—dressed in white, her face serene but sad.“Mother?” Alexander called, taking a hesitant step forward. “Where… where are we?”But his mother only smiled softly. “You’re not supposed to be here, Alexander. Not yet.”He frowned, confused. “What do you mean? Am I… de

Chapter 107Three days later, the private jet touched down on home soil.Mr. Morrelo stepped out, his dark overcoat flapping lightly against the wind. His face was stoic, unreadable — but beneath that calm exterior lay a storm that hadn’t ceased since the day of the accident.He had left behind his wife and unconscious son in Switzerland. Mrs. Morrelo had insisted on staying, refusing to leave Alexander’s side even for a single moment. The doctors said his condition was stable, but not improving. She prayed, she watched, and she waited.But Mr. Morrelo had other battles to fight — the ones that couldn’t be won in a hospital ward.His car was already waiting for him at the runway. His private investigator, Leon, stood beside it, dressed sharply in a black suit, his face grave.As soon as the car doors closed and the convoy began moving, Leon spoke. “Sir, we’ve kept him at the secured facility like you instructed. But he’s… proving difficult.”Mr. Morrelo turned his head slightly, his s

Chapter 109Years later The ballroom of the Vega Corporation Headquarters glittered that evening with gold chandeliers and an air of sophistication that only the elite could carry. Waiters glided between clusters of executives, investors, and family friends, balancing trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. The soft hum of a live orchestra filled the space, blending perfectly with the polite murmurs and laughter of guests.At the center of it all stood Selena Vega, her presence commanding attention even before she spoke. She was twenty-seven now — graceful, composed, yet visibly colder than she once was. The years had sharpened her edges, refined her posture, and dulled her once bright, carefree eyes.Her mother, Mrs. Vega, was radiant with pride as she stood beside her. “Tonight,” she announced into the microphone, “marks not just a new chapter for Vega Industries, but also for my daughter, Selena, who has proven herself capable, resilient, and worthy of leading this company into the

For a moment, Mrs. Donatoes said nothing. Her hands tightened around her purse, her expression slipping from charm to quiet frustration. “You’ve changed, Mrs. Vega,” she murmured. “You used to understand how valuable alliances could be.”“I still do,” Mrs. Vega replied, standing now — tall, poised, and firm. “But I also understand that alliances built on manipulation always collapse. And I will not sacrifice my daughter for another family’s survival.”Mrs. Donatoes stood as well, her forced smile returning though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Very well,” she said softly. “But please, think about it. I only want what’s best for both of them.”Mrs. Vega walked her to the door personally — a gesture polite enough to conceal the tension lingering in the air. As the door opened, she said evenly, “I’ll think about it. But don’t expect the answer to change.”Mrs. Donatoes nodded, though the disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable. “Have a pleasant afternoon, Mrs. Vega.”“You too,” came the