Theresa dragged her son away, but before she left the stage, she turned back. Her eyes were filled with pure venom.“You will pay for this,” she hissed at Helen. “Both of you. You think you won? You just started a war you cannot afford.”They retreated. The mighty Romanos, scurrying away like rats caught in the light. The stage was clearing. The villains were scattering.Soon, only a few figures remained in the center of the storm. Adrian. Helen. And the remnants of the Cross family —Ethan, Sasha, Ben, and a few cousins.Ethan Cross stood there, staring at the spot where Fabio had stood. His brain was short-circuiting.He had heard the alert on Fabio’s phone. He had seen the "APPROVED" message. And that card… the vantablack card with the gold dragon…‘No,’ Ethan told himself, shaking his head violently. ‘It’s not possible.’If Adrian was rich —if Adrian was truly the owner of Crestmoor— then Ethan was dead. He had spent months abusing the man. He had spat on him. He had forced him to

The morning sun didn’t just rise; it poured into Helen’s room like liquid gold, boldly kissing her skin and rousing her from a sleep that had been surprisingly deep.For the first time in months, she hadn’t woken up with a knot of anxiety in her stomach. There was no dread of an impending marriage to Fabio Romano. No fear of her Uncle Ethan’s screaming. There was just… peace.She sat up, stretching her arms overhead, a contented smile playing on her lips. She looked out the window at the sprawling grounds of the estate. It was strange. Yesterday, this house felt like a prison owned by the Cross family. Today, it felt like a fortress owned by Adrian.Adrian.The name alone made her cheeks heat up. She had spent half the night tossing and turning, not out of worry, but out of sheer, giddy excitement. A dozen times, she had been tempted to tiptoe down the hallway, push open his door, and just… look at him. To make sure the man who had bought a bank and summoned a dragon made of steam was

The living room was bathed in the warm, golden light of mid-morning, but the air inside was cold enough to freeze breath.Ben Brown and Sasha Cross sat on the plush beige sofa like judges at a tribunal. Ben looked haggard, his eyes darting nervously around the room, while Sasha sat with her spine rigid, her arms crossed, radiating a mixture of fury and calculation.Helen walked in, her heart still fluttering from the intimacy of the bedroom, only to hit this wall of tension. She took her place in front of them, standing tall.In the corner, leaning against a bookshelf, was Adrian. He was still in his sweatpants and singlet, looking effortlessly dangerous. He caught Helen’s eye and offered a quick, conspiratorial wink. ‘I’m right here,’ the wink said. ‘They can’t hurt you.’“So,” Helen sighed, clasping her hands. “Is this the part where you scold me for what I did last night? Or do we skip straight to the yelling?”Sasha didn’t blink. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing.“You are go

While tragedy was unfolding in Helen’s bedroom, a different kind of darkness was brewing on the rooftop of the Cross Estate.Ethan Cross stood by the limestone railing, looking down into the dense woods that bordered the property. In his hand was a crystal flute of vintage champagne, but he wasn’t celebrating. He was drowning.His eyes were rimmed with red, bloodshot from a cocktail of expensive alcohol and cheap guilt. He stared at a specific spot in the woods —a ravine hidden by oak trees.The spot.That was where he had pushed him. Samuel. His "little man." His nephew.The police had believed him. The family had believed him. The story was simple: Samuel had wandered off during a picnic. He had been attacked by a wild animal —a coyote, or maybe a bear. By the time Ethan "found" him, it was too late. The gash on the boy’s cheek, the broken neck… it all fit the narrative of a tragic accident.Ethan took a gulp of champagne, the bubbles burning his throat.‘A bear,’ he thought, a bitt

Beside her was her mother, Clara Lang, looking equally out of place and equally smug.The remaining mourners stopped. The atmosphere shifted from somber grief to confused tension.“Vanessa?” Adrian stepped in front of Helen, his body going rigid. “What are you doing here? This is a funeral. You weren’t at the church!”Vanessa smiled. It was a cold, practiced smile. She walked right up to the edge of the grave, looked down at the dirt, and shrugged.“Tragic,” she drawled. “Truly. But business doesn’t stop for the dead, Adrian. You should know that. You bought a bank while my marriage was dying.”“Get out,” Adrian said, his voice low and vibrating with a threat. “Leave. Now.”“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Vanessa said. She snapped her fingers.One of the grey-suited men stepped forward. He pulled a thick stack of documents from his briefcase. They were bound in blue legal covers.“Adrian West?” the lawyer asked, his voice monotone.“What is this?” Adrian demanded, ignoring the paper thr