Marcus stiffened. His chest tightened, his voice rough as gravel. “I… I don’t know. My mother died when I was a child. My father left before I could remember his face. I was raised in shelters, bouncing from one place to another. Nobody ever wanted me.” Charles studied him, his eyes cold but calculating. “And yet you survived. Alone. Without guidance. Without wealth. That strength is why you were hidden.” Marcus frowned. “Hidden?” “Yes,” Charles said simply. “Protected. There are enemies who would have killed you before you grew old enough to claim what is rightfully yours.” Marcus laughed again, the sound hollow. “Enemies? Look at me. I can’t even protect myself from my wife’s insults. I don’t have enemies. I don’t even have a bed tonight.” Charles’s lips curved into a razor thin smile. “You’ll understand soon enough. But first, tell me. When Sophia humiliated you tonight, when the crowd mocked you, when they threw you into the street… did you feel powerless?” The words p

Charles’s voice cut through. “Good.” Marcus looked up, panting. Charles stood a few feet away, smoke curling from his pistol as another intruder fell behind him. His gaze fixed on Marcus, sharp, appraising. “You’ve tasted it now,” Charles said. “The truth of survival. The weakness you carried, leave it behind. This is who you are.” Marcus’s hands shook as he wiped blood from his face. His voice broke. “I don’t want this.” “You already chose it the moment you stepped into this house,” Charles replied. His tone was calm, but his eyes burned. “The enemy chose you long before tonight.” A final shot rang out from the far end of the hall. The last intruder crumpled, security storming in behind him. The echo of gunfire faded into a suffocating silence, the floor was littered with bodies. Blood smeared across polished marble. The Hilton portraits loomed above, their painted eyes judging the chaos below. Marcus staggered to his feet, his body aching, his mind reeling, And then,

The lead intruder advanced slowly through the chaos, each step deliberate. Bullets sparked off the marble around them, but they never faltered. Their modulated voice sliced through the smoke. “Do you feel it, Marcus? The thrill? The power? It’s intoxicating, isn’t it?” Marcus snarled, raising his gun. “Shut up!” But the intruder didn’t stop. “That’s how it begins. One pull of the trigger, then another, until you can’t stop. Until you don’t want to stop.” Their voice dropped lower, almost intimate. “You’ll drown in it. Just like your father did.” Marcus froze. The noise of the firefight blurred for a second. “What did you say?” The intruder’s head tilted again, mockingly. “Ah. Charles never told you.” Charles’s face darkened, his voice sharp with warning. “Don’t listen!” But Marcus’s grip faltered. His father, what did they mean? The intruder chuckled. “So many secrets buried under this roof. Tell me, Marcus, do you really think you’re here by chance? Or do you believe the

He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “You used me, Sophia. You fed my humiliation to a crowd, you tore my life apart. Don’t act like you’re too delicate now.” Her lips parted, but no words came. She lowered her eyes, guilt and fear mixing like oil and water. Charles studied Marcus with a rare flicker of respect. “You’re thinking like a Hilton now.” Marcus’s stomach churned at the words, but he didn’t let it show. “I’m thinking like a man who won’t be hunted.” The room fell quiet again, the fire roaring louder. Marcus’s decision hung in the air, dark and irreversible. Sophia curled onto the chair by the fire, her eyes distant, whispering to herself. Marcus caught fragments, pleas, apologies, half-formed prayers. He ignored them, his gaze locked on the flames. Finally, Charles broke the silence. “You’ve chosen, then. But understand this, if you protect her, you bind her fate to yours. And Evelyn will use it against you.” At the mention of Evelyn, Sophia stiff

Marcus’s vision blurred, his heart slamming. His father’s hand had written his death sentence. He was never meant to escape. Sophia dropped her gun, rushing to him. “Marcus, don’t listen to her. She’s twisting it!” But Marcus’s voice cracked, raw. “It’s in his hand. My father’s hand. He… he wanted me dead.” Evelyn’s smile widened, fangs in the dark. “Not dead, boy, consumed. He wanted you to become him. And look at you,blood on your hands, fire in your veins. You’re already halfway there.” Marcus’s chest heaved. The weight of the ledger pressed like iron. The truth clawed at his mind. His father had not just built Hilton with blood, he had condemned his own son to drown in it. Charles snarled, slamming Evelyn to the floor. “Enough!” Evelyn only laughed harder, her voice echoing off the steel walls. “You can kill me, Charles. You can lock me in chains. But you can’t erase what’s in that book. Marcus will see. He’ll see that the curse is real.” Sophia clutched Marcus’s arm,