The night passed quickly. The ship slowly approached the harbor, the subtle vibration of the engine shifting its rhythm. One by one, the guests began to gather themselves, straightening their jackets, checking their phones, preparing to return to the real world with carefully composed expressions back in place.Tyson did not join that club.He had already spoken briefly with Mr. Hale earlier. Their arrangement was clear, after the event ended, they would continue their discussion in a private cabin.So while most of the guests moved toward the exit and the gangway leading down to the harbor, Tyson remained behind, standing calmly at the edge of the room with Anna.Before heading to Mr. Hale’s cabin, however, Tyson approached someone else first.Mr. Lay was putting on his coat, his face noticeably more relaxed than it had been at the start of the evening. When he saw Tyson coming over, he looked momentarily surprised, then offered a small smile, as if he still hadn’t fully processed wh

Tyson remained silent for a long time.His gaze lowered, not truly focused on anything in front of him. Mr. Hale’s words lingered in the air, soft, yet heavy, drawing something out from the depths of his memory, a place he rarely allowed himself to touch.He tried to remember his grandfather.Not as the Old Man De Leon known to the outside world, a man of great name, rigid principles, and an unyielding reputation, but as the only person in that family who ever gave him warmth.The only one.In the vast De Leon household, cold and bound by countless unspoken rules, his grandfather had been the exception. The one who never distinguished between him and his siblings. Who spoke his name gently, not as a tool, not as a variable.The one who stood in front of him when others saw him as an anomaly. Who sat beside him without questions, without judgment, when the world around him felt too narrow to breathe in.His grandfather would defend him. Would stay by his side. Regardless of what others

Within a year and a half, Ravenhart grew far beyond what many had expected.The name began circulating in the right circles, not in the media, not through cheap rumors, but from one closed-door conversation to another, from exclusive boardrooms to the private dining rooms of influential figures. Ravenhart was known not for its advertising, but for its results.Along with that growth, their office moved as well.It was not a relocation for comfort, but a necessity. In the early months of Ravenhart’s rise, they had stepped on too many toes. Deals were disrupted, power lines cut, long-standing interests forced to change direction each action inviting retaliation.Anonymous threats. Warning messages. Even intimidation that crossed into the personal sphere. Once, someone sent an unmarked package to the apartment where Tyson and Anna lived, enough to make them realize that the boundary between business and personal safety had already blurred.That became the turning point.Tyson did not wai

Tyson did not respond to the invitation at all. He simply took Anna’s hand, his fingers closing calmly yet firmly around hers, and walked past Joe as if the man did not exist.His steps were steady, his shoulders straight, the posture of someone who had made a decision and had no intention of looking back.That was what ignited Joe’s anger.In his twenties, Joe was the kind of man who grew up believing the world could be conquered. He had tasted success too early, largely propped up by his family’s name, and that was enough to convince him that money and pressure could buy anything, including people.Tyson’s attitude felt like a slap to the face.“Tyson,” he called sharply, quickening his pace to catch up. But instead of grabbing Tyson, Joe’s hand clamped down roughly on Anna’s wrist.The pull was sudden and forceful.Anna stumbled backward, nearly falling. Her grip on Tyson broke, the sound of her shoes scraping against the restaurant floor cutting sharply through the air. A few head

Tyson was no longer thinking about Joe’s small company. What he had done a few days ago was more than enough, not to destroy it completely, but to remind him that there were lines that should not be crossed, and that arrogance always came with a price.If Joe was smart enough, he would stop there. If not, it was no longer Tyson’s concern.That morning passed as usual. Brief reports came in and went out, decisions were made without drama. Ravenhart moved at its own rhythm, calm, precise, and always one step ahead of anyone trying to peer too closely.When his phone vibrated, Tyson initially assumed it was an internal call. But the name on the screen made him pause.Scarlett.He answered without a preamble.“Tyson,” Scarlett called from the other end, her voice sharp but faintly tired. “I changed my schedule. I arrived last night.”Tyson raised an eyebrow slightly. “That’s earlier than planned.”“Circumstances forced me,” she replied. “I came with my assistant. We’re staying at a hotel.