The machine beeped again, its small screen flashing the digits like a silent judge:Amount: 50,000,000.00The fog drifted between the men like a ghost, thick and slow. Davide’s lips twisted in a cruel half-smile, waiting for Tobias to make a fool of himself. Alvaro’s assistant held the terminal, his hands were trembling slightly as the cold morning air cut through the valley.Tobias’s eyes stayed on the screen. Calm. Steady.Then, he spoke.“I wish to pay in installments,” he said quietly, his tone almost conversational. “Because I do not have up to fifty million in my account.”The words fell like a bomb.For a heartbeat, there was silence—pure, stunned silence.Then it broke.Davide Del Mantuno threw his head back and laughed—a sharp, vindictive, humorless sound that echoed across the ruined chapel walls.“You hear that?” he howled, turning to his men. “The man who came here in a black coat, acting like a god—he wants to pay in installments!”The men erupted in laughter—cruel, anim

The fog had not moved.It lingered like a veil over the valley—thick, gray, and uneasy.The silence that followed Don Esteban’s warning was the kind that carried weight. Even the birds seemed to sense the tension and stayed hidden among the trees.Davide Del Mantuno stood there, stiff and uncertain, his mind running wild. His chest rose and fell quickly, anger and confusion were fighting for control. The once-smug smile that had played on his lips during the auction was gone—wiped clean by humiliation.He turned toward Alvaro, his jaw was clenched, his voice was low but burning with fury.“You lied to me.”Alvaro blinked, still shaken from Don Esteban’s dominance. “What?”“You heard me,” Davide growled, taking a step closer. “You lied. You wanted to sell me a property that doesn’t even belong to you or the government! You forged the papers—you wanted to con me!”The accusation hit like a slap. Alvaro’s throat went dry. He raised both hands, trying to speak with the poise of a profess

The ruins of Saint Venera stood silent under the fog, their broken arches and faded stone crosses were glowing faintly beneath the pale light of dawn. The air was damp and heavy with age, and the wind whispered through the cracks like a voice from another century.Don Esteban Dorada’s breath came out as a slow plume of smoke as he studied the remnants of the chapel. His sharp eyes drifted over the shattered stained glass windows, the fractured altar, and the vines that crept through the floor like veins of time itself.He turned to Tobias, a faint, knowing smile curling at the edge of his mouth.“I guess we have check out what your father had locked up.”Tobias nodded, the weight of those words sinking into his chest. The name Poderón carried centuries of history—and trouble. Now, a significant part of that history was buried somewhere beneath their feet.Five of Don Esteban’s men followed as they crossed through the broken archway. Their boots echoed on the cracked marble floor, eac

The city below looked like molten glass.Neon veins pulsed through the streets of Ciudad de Sanvelis, alive and sleepless — a city that had forgotten what morality looked like.Inside Don Esteban Dorada's private penthouse lounge, the air was different — slower, heavier, perfumed with aged whiskey and cigar smoke. Velvet curtains swayed against the night breeze, and a faint record played from an old gramophone.Tobias sat across from him, his pulse still echoing with what he had seen underground: mountains of gold, bricks of dollar notes, and diamonds that could blind even a heavenly being.He hadn’t blinked since they left the chapel.Even now, the scent of the vault — dust, rust, and power — clung to him like a ghost.Don Esteban poured two glasses of whiskey and slid one across the table.“Drink,” he said, his tone was calm but sharp. “It helps a man think clearly after touching eternity.”Tobias stared at the amber liquid, then took it, his hand trembling just slightly. “You knew

The rain fell like shards of broken glass over Sanvelis North.It washed the filth off the streets but never the sins.Cielo leaned forward on her motorcycle, her eyes squinting against the downpour as the neon lights blurred into streaks of color. The roar of her engine echoed through the narrow lanes. Behind her, headlights tore through the fog — three black SUVs, engines growling like wolves closing in on prey.Her heart hammered. The earpiece in her right ear buzzed to life.“Cielo,” a man’s voice said, cold and steady. “Turn yourself in. You know the rules. No courier walks away with Syndicate property.”Her lips curled into a tight smirk. “Then you’ll have to catch me first.”She twisted the throttle. The bike shot forward, water splashing beneath the tires as she darted between a truck and a bus. Horns blared. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.Behind her, gunfire split the air — flashes of light bouncing off the wet buildings. A bullet grazed her rearview mirror, shattering i