The Onyx Section had grown quieter as the Blackthorns approached.Mason Blackthorn moved with the easy confidence of someone who had never needed to introduce himself twice. His dark eyes swept across the secluded area, taking in the arrangement of tables, the positioning of the guests, and the subtle placement of the Nine Dragons personnel standing at strategic intervals.Gwen remained half a step behind him, her expression unreadable.Isaac watched them approach, his smile pleasant but guarded."Mr. Blackthorn. Miss Blackthorn. I see you've found your way to the more interesting part of the banquet."Mason smiled. "The Gold Section was certainly lively, but we were curious about what happens back here.""Curiosity is often rewarded at events like this." Isaac glanced toward Sebastian, who was standing slightly behind him, partially obscured by Bruce's broad frame and the partition that separated this area from the rest of the Onyx Section.Mason's gaze followed Isaac's, but he could

The Rutherford Banquet had finally begun to wind down.What had started several hours earlier as one of the most extravagant gatherings Cloud City had seen in years was gradually settling into a quieter rhythm.Guests who had spent the evening exchanging business cards, negotiating partnerships, and carefully measuring one another's influence were now beginning to depart.The Gold Section emptied first.Groups of businessmen left together, continuing conversations that had begun over dinner."Send the revised proposal to my office tomorrow.""Of course. If we combine our bids, we might actually have a chance.""I'll speak to our investment team tonight.""Let's arrange a meeting next week."Even as they left, the networking continued.For many of them, the banquet had been a success simply because they had managed to establish a few useful connections.The Platinum Section emptied more slowly.Those guests had considerably more to lose and more to gain.Several major families remained

The Montclair Manor was quieter than Sebastian had expected.Bruce guided the black Cadillac through the iron gates and along the sweeping driveway, the mansion's pale stone façade gleaming under the afternoon sun. The gardens were immaculate, the fountains flowing, but there was a heaviness to the estate that had nothing to do with its architecture.Sebastian stepped out of the vehicle and adjusted his coat. Charles had called ahead, apologizing that he was still en route."Examine her first," he had said, his voice strained. "I trust you. Please. I'll be there as soon as I can."Bruce remained by the entrance as Sebastian was escorted inside by a young butler who moved with nervous efficiency.The interior was as grand as the exterior suggested, but Sebastian barely glanced at the paintings or the chandeliers. He followed the butler up a sweeping staircase and down a long corridor until they reached a set of double doors."Miss Juliette's room," the butler said quietly, and stepped

Sebastian's palm remained pressed against Juliette's forehead, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and measured.The room held its breath.Nicolas stared, his mouth slightly open, his earlier arrogance drained from his face like water from a cracked vessel. Margaret's fingers tightened around the arms of her chair, her knuckles white against the polished wood. Viktor Sokolov stood frozen near the doorway, his medical instincts warring with the disbelief spreading across his face like a stain.For a long moment, nothing happened.The only sounds were the soft hum of the medical equipment and the shallow rasp of Juliette's breathing. The afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. Dust motes danced in the golden beams, suspended in the stillness like spectators waiting for something to happen.Then Sebastian's fingers moved.He traced a path down Juliette's arm, his touch light but deliberate, pausing at specific points along her wrist, her elbo

The Montclair family’s private vault was located beneath the main estate.Unlike the rest of the mansion, which had been designed to impress visitors with its grandeur, the entrance to the vault was almost deliberately unremarkable.A reinforced steel door stood at the end of a short corridor, surrounded by plain stone walls and discreet security cameras.Charles approached the door and entered a sequence into the keypad.A soft mechanical click followed.He then placed his palm against a biometric scanner.Another lock disengaged.Finally, he inserted a small metal key into a concealed slot beneath the keypad and turned it.The massive door slowly swung open.Sebastian stood beside him, watching silently.“Welcome to the Montclair family’s private vault,” Charles said.Sebastian stepped inside.The room beyond was considerably larger than he had expected.Soft white lights illuminated a collection that could have rivaled the private museums of some of the world’s wealthiest families.