The banquet hall had long emptied, but the echoes of mockery still clung to Cole Brady’s ears like a swarm of gnats. Even now, sitting alone in the Parker’s cold garage, he could still hear Blake Morgan’s smug laughter and Fiona’s family’s sharp insults.Yet Cole sat calmly, his hands folded, his expression unreadable.The city thought him beaten, powerless. But the truth was that his silence was a mask. And masks, no matter how convincing, could only last so long.Just as he rose to leave, headlights swept across the garage. A sleek black car slid to a stop, its engine purring like a predator.From the driver’s seat stepped a man with sharp features, dressed in a tailored suit that clung to him like armor. His presence alone was enough to command respect.“Ethan Troy,” Cole murmured, his eyes narrowing.Few in the city knew the name, but Cole did. Ethan wasn’t just a businessman, he was an old rival, once a rising star in the same military circles Cole had abandoned. Ethan’s reputati

Morning light spilled into the Parker estate, but it did little to brighten the heavy atmosphere. Lydia Parker sat at the breakfast table, scrolling through her phone, her face flushed with agitation.“Unbelievable!” she snapped, slamming the phone down. “Blake Morgan’s people have pulled another contract from our company. Do you understand what this means? He’s deliberately cutting us off!”Harold, still half asleep, frowned. “Mother, it’s only one contract”“One contract?” Lydia’s eyes blazed. “That was worth millions, Harold! Blake promised us stability, and now he’s turning his back on us. And why? Because of him.” She jabbed a finger toward Cole, who had just stepped quietly into the room.As always, Cole ignored the insult, seating himself calmly and pouring a cup of tea.But Harold wasn’t finished. “Blake made it clear last night. He’s only tolerating us because of Fiona. As long as she’s in good standing with him, we’re safe. But Cole” He sneered. “Cole is a liability.”Fiona,

The restaurant Blake Morgan had chosen was no ordinary dining place. Chandeliers of imported crystal bathed the room in a golden glow, their glitter reflected off the polished marble floors. Waiters in pristine suits glided like shadows, carrying silver trays laden with dishes too expensive to pronounce. Blake had spared no expense, every detail screamed power, wealth, and control.The Parker family stood awkwardly at the entrance, their presence like that of beggars at a king’s banquet. Lydia Parker adjusted her pearl necklace for the tenth time, her lips twitching with excitement. Harold tugged at his tie, nervous yet determined to make an impression. Fiona, however, looked uneasy, her gaze darting around the grand hall as though searching for something unseen.And unseen, indeed, something was.For in the far corner, seated at a table meant for two but occupied by only one, Cole Brady sat quietly with a glass of water in his hand. His posture was calm, his presence so unassuming th

The Parker mansion was restless that night. Lydia stormed about in a fury, Harold sulked in his study, and Fiona sat quietly in her room, her thoughts tangled like a storm at sea.But Cole was not in his room.He stood outside in the garden, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes fixed on the moonlit horizon. The night was cool, serene, yet he felt the unease prickling in his veins. He had lived long enough to know peace was often the mask worn by danger before it struck.And danger was coming.Across the city, in an abandoned textile factory at the edge of the docks, Trojan held court.The scarred man paced slowly before a row of men in dark coats, his boots echoing against the cracked concrete floor. His cigarette burned low, the glow illuminating the cruel smile that never seemed to leave his lips.“Tonight,” Trojan said, his voice low but commanding, “we stop watching. We move.”His men leaned forward, waiting.“Blake Morgan thinks he’s invincible. The Parkers think they can craw

The warehouse loomed like a sleeping beast against the night sky. Its jagged roof and broken windows whispered of secrets long buried, of deals struck in shadows. Inside, the flicker of bare bulbs revealed the circle of men gathered around Harold Parker, their laughter sharp, their boots scraping against the concrete floor.Trojan sat at the center of it all, his scarred face lit by the glow of a cigarette. The smoke curled lazily from his lips as he stared at Harold like a predator toying with prey.The door creaked open.The sound was small, almost insignificant, yet it carried through the warehouse like a gunshot. All laughter stopped. Heads turned.And there he was.Cole Brady.He didn’t sneak in. He didn’t storm in. He simply walked through the front door with the calm certainty of a man entering his own home. His hands were empty, his sleeves rolled neatly, his eyes steady as they swept the room.For a moment, silence reigned. Even Harold forgot to whimper.Trojan leaned back in