The auditorium was alive with cheers, camera flashes, and the restless buzz of students throwing their caps into the air. The graduation anthem had barely ended when I pushed through the crowd, clutching the small velvet box that had weighed on my pocket for months.My heart hammered, not from nerves but from conviction. This was it, the moment to tell her, in front of everyone, that she wasn’t just my girlfriend, she was my future.“Daniel! Daniel, what are you doing?” one of my classmates hissed as I walked past him, heading straight for the stage, But I didn’t answer.I climbed the steps, knees steady, and dropped down on one of them before the woman I had loved for four years, Sophia Lane.Her golden hair gleamed under the spotlights. Her beauty drew every eye in the hall. She had always been untouchable, the kind of woman other men whispered about but never dared approach. Yet, she had been mine. Or so I thought.I opened the velvet box. The modest silver ring caught the light, G

The morning sun bled through the curtains, soft and golden, but it felt like a spotlight burning into my face.I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the phone still in my hand. The message from midnight glowed faintly on the screen, as if it wanted to remind me, The world is yours.A knock echoed at the door.“Enter,” I called, my voice still hoarse from the night before.The door opened, and a man in a tailored suit stepped in. His hair was neatly combed, his posture sharp. He wasn’t from the university, nor any place I knew.“Good morning, young master,” he said, bowing slightly.I blinked. “Who are you?”“Luther. Your personal aide, assigned by the Cole estate. From this day forward, I will oversee your daily affairs.” He straightened, his eyes calm but sharp. “A car is waiting outside. There are documents for you to sign. And… breakfast has been prepared.”I rose slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.“Young master.” The title still felt foreign, like it belonged to someo

Silken robes, tailored suits, jeweled watches, the estate hummed with quiet wealth as servants rushed like shadows through its gilded halls. The air smelled faintly of cedar and polished steel.I stood before a mirror framed in gold leaf, the reflection staring back at me both familiar and foreign. Gone were the worn jeans, the cheap shirts, the calloused hands of a student scraping by. The suit I wore now clung to me like armor, hand-stitched, weighted with subtle power.“Perfect,” Luther said softly, adjusting my cufflinks. “The ceremony requires presence, young master. Tonight, you must not only inherit wealth, you must command it.”His words pressed against my chest heavier than the suit itself.“Command,” I echoed, almost to myself.“Yes.” His eyes flicked to mine in the mirror. “Anyone can inherit fortune. Few can hold it. And fewer still can survive it.”The door opened. A servant bowed low. “The board is assembled. The guests await.”The halls stretched endlessly as I followed

The ballroom had been transformed from a place of celebration into a makeshift infirmary. Guards lay on stretchers, blood soaking into crisp white linens. Doctors and nurses, summoned in haste, moved frantically among them. The sweet scent of champagne had been replaced by iron and smoke.I stood near the broken dais, jacket torn, soot on my hands. The weight of the rifle I still carried was heavier than any burden I’d known before.Around me, whispers circled like vultures. The board of the Cole Conglomerate had arrived in hurried clusters, their tailored suits and diamond pins a strange contrast to the carnage.“An attack of this scale?” one muttered.“Security compromised at the very heart of our estate,” another whispered sharply.“Impossible without an inside hand.”Their gazes slid toward me, some sharp with doubt, others calculating, and a few, reluctantly, with respect, Lord Marcus Cole, head of the board, stepped forward. His voice cut through the noise like a blade.“Enough

Morning crept over the estate like a reluctant guest. The usual symphony of birds and fountains was gone, replaced by the hum of patrol drones and the bark of guards running drills. The Cole estate had turned into a fortress overnight.I hadn’t slept. The eagle, stamped envelope lay on the desk beside me, its words burned into my mind.The blood that hunts you sits at your own table.Whoever slipped it into my room had breached Cole security without a trace. That alone proved they were no ordinary intruder. And if the message was true, then one of the polished men and women who sat across from me last night was already working with the enemy.I buttoned my jacket, each movement deliberate, each breath steady. This was no longer about proving myself. This was survival.A knock at the door broke the silence. Luther stepped in, sharp as ever despite the bandage at his temple.“You didn’t sleep,” he said, his gravelly voice an observation, not a question.“Could you?” I asked.He didn’t a