The ride home was silent. Elena sat beside Adrian in the back seat of their car, scrolling through her phone with practiced detachment, as if the man driving her had ceased to exist entirely.Adrian kept his eyes on the road ahead, though his hands were clenched in his lap. Words balanced on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them. Tonight wasn’t the night to fight again. He had already lost enough pieces of himself at her family’s table.When they arrived at the sleek penthouse Elena insisted on, she slipped out without waiting for him, heels clicking across the polished floor as though she were arriving at a hotel, not her own home.Adrian trailed behind, loosening his tie, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. “Elena,” he tried softly. “Can we”Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, lips twitching in a faint smile, the first genuine one he’d seen from her all evening. Without a word, she turned and disappeared into the bedroom, door clicking shut behind her.Adrian stood froz

The drive lasted nearly an hour, weaving from the city’s crowded streets into long, winding roads lined with towering trees. The skyline gave way to open hills, and soon, Adrian saw it, the Cole estate.It rose like a fortress from the earth, sprawling across acres of manicured land, every inch a declaration of power. High walls guarded it, iron gates loomed, and the mansion itself stood proud and cold, its marble pillars reaching skyward as though defying time itself.Adrian’s chest tightened. Memories clawed at him, echoes of childhood footsteps echoing on stone floors, the weight of eyes that measured him against impossible standards, the suffocating demand to become something he never wanted to be.The car slowed as the gates swung open. Dozens of staff lined the drive, their heads bowed in silent acknowledgment. Adrian forced his face into neutrality, though unease prickled at his skin.Inside the mansion, the air smelled of polished wood and old money. Paintings of stern ancesto

The strategy room was no less intimidating than the great hall. A massive digital screen dominated one wall, glowing with graphs, figures, and live market data. Around the long obsidian table sat the board members, men and women seasoned by decades of corporate wars, their faces carved with suspicion.Gerald sat at the head, cane resting across his knees. “Today,” he said, voice echoing, “we see if my grandson is a Cole… or a coward.”Adrian stepped forward, his pulse steady despite the weight of their stares. Marcus placed a slim laptop in front of him, the screen already filled with projections.“Scenario,” Gerald barked. “A hostile takeover attempt of our shipping subsidiary. Rivals undercutting us, investors panicking. What’s your move?”A murmur rippled among the board, this was no simple test. Adrian’s eyes flicked across the data. Where another might drown in the chaos of numbers.Adrian’s mind sharpened. He saw the weak points, the pressure lines. His hands moved swiftly, pull

The rain hammered against the windows of Adrian’s study as Marcus spread blueprints and reports across the desk.“The Grants have their claws sunk deep into logistics,” Marcus said. “Cut that, and they bleed. But they’re shielded through shell companies. Hard to touch without noise.”Adrian studied the charts, his mind sharpening. “Noise is fine. Let them hear me knocking. But I won’t strike their fortress first. I’ll take their shadow.”Marcus tilted his head. “Meaning?”Adrian tapped one of the names on the report, a minor Grant partner company. “Here. Silent investors. Low profile. But this is the artery that feeds three of their supply chains. We bleed it dry, they choke.”Marcus gave a rare smile. “Now you’re thinking like a Cole.”Adrian didn’t smile back. His thoughts burned darker. This wasn’t just business. This was personal. Every move would be a message. Every strike, a reckoning.On the other side of the city, Elena lingered outside Damian’s private office. He thought she

The ballroom shimmered with chandeliers and silk gowns. It was the annual Summit of Power, where the city’s wealthiest flaunted alliances and crushed rivals with a smile.Elena walked beside Damian, her emerald dress clinging like armor. Cameras flashed as if mocking her. On her other side, Harold Grant whispered for only her to hear:“Smile, my dear. Tonight, you’re not just Elena Cole. You’re our Elena.”Her lips curled upward, but her insides screamed. On the stage, Harold announced the Grant Corporation’s new “strategic partners.” When Elena’s name was read, gasps rippled through the hall.For years, she had been the icy wife of Adrian Cole, the “worthless son-in-law.” Now, she stood at the right hand of his enemies. Elena forced her chin higher as applause thundered. Yet she caught whispers between the claps.“She betrayed him.”“Poor girl doesn’t realize, she’s being used.”“Damian always did like breaking toys.”Her hand trembled against her glass of champagne. Across the room,