“‘No problem, Father. No problem at all.’” Those were Raymond’s words after his father gave him one final look and then walked away.The door shut behind him with a muted, expensive click, and the room seemed to exhale. For a few seconds Raymond kept the same solemn expression on his face, as if his father might somehow still be watching through the walls. Then, gradually, the performance dropped away.A smile spread across his face.It began at one corner of his mouth, then widened into something smug and glittering. He leaned back against the pillows, ignoring the ache in his body, and let the news settle over him in the way wealth and power always had—less as something to be earned than something that confirmed what he already believed about himself.Global Investment.Even the name sounded heavy. Important. World-sized.He repeated it softly under his breath once, as though tasting it.If that contract came through and in Raymond’s mind it already had—everything would change. Or a

Elizabeth was still standing in the middle of Benjamin’s empty VIP room, staring at the untouched bed with a fury that had nowhere to go, when her phone began to ring.The sound cut sharply through the silence.For one irritated second she almost ignored it. She was in no mood to hear anybody. Her nerves were already stretched to the limit, her anger still hot from discovering that Benjamin was gone, his family gone, everyone suddenly unreachable at the exact moment she needed answers. But the phone kept ringing, vibrating insistently in her palm, and instinct—the professional instinct that had been trained into her by years of crisis management made her glance down at the screen.Victoria, her secretary.Elizabeth’s brows tightened.Victoria would not be calling repeatedly at a time like this unless something had happened. Not something small. Not something that could wait for an email or a message. Something immediate.She answered.“Victoria,” Elizabeth said, still breathing hard f

Elizabeth stood in the middle of the empty hospital room with the phone pressed hard against her ear, her eyes fixed on Benjamin’s untouched bed, and for the first time in a long time, words failed her.Not because she had nothing to say.But because too many things were colliding in her mind at once Benjamin’s disappearance, the board members’ sudden demand for funds, the possibility of leaks, the exposure of the bank, the memory of her own decisions, and above all the awful, choking realization that she might have walked herself into something she could not easily walk out of.She shook her head even though Victoria could not see her.“Honestly,” she said at last, her voice thinner than she wanted it to sound, “I don’t know what to say.”Her free hand moved to her forehead.“I don’t know what to do at this moment.”That was the truth, stripped bare.For someone like Elizabeth, saying those words was not a small thing. She was not built to admit helplessness casually. Even in private

Elizabeth turned and walked slowly to the window.The city shimmered outside, indifferent as ever, but inside her the anger was beginning to take shape again—more focused now, fed by a specific target.David, Benjamin had fled.Fine.But if David was indeed moving pieces behind the scenes, then this was no longer just a financial emergency. It was sabotage.Not a simple collapse, a guided one.A collapse with hands on it.And guided collapse meant intention.It meant timing, It meant an enemy who understood enough to be dangerous.“That’s why,” Victoria said, pressing the point, “I really think you need to talk to your parents. You need to let them understand the full situation on the ground. Not the softened version. Not later. Now.”Elizabeth remained silent.Because she knew what that would mean.Her parents would not just hear the facts. They would hear the failure beneath them. They would hear the name Benjamin and the number fifteen million and the phrase ‘board members are tryi

The call connected faster than Elizabeth expected.It rang once, then twice.And then her father picked up.There was no delay, no distracted assistant answering first, no formal barrier between her and him. Just the immediate click of connection, followed by the calm, steady voice she had known all her life—a voice that had settled arguments, ended confusion, commanded rooms, and, more than once, reduced her to feeling fourteen years old again with nothing more than a change in tone.“Elizabeth.”He did not sound alarmed. Not yet.But he did sound curious.And then, before she could even shape her first sentence, he spoke again.“I wasn’t expecting your call at all.”There was the faintest trace of dry amusement in it, but also something more perceptive beneath it—the alertness of a man who noticed patterns and knew when one had been broken.“For you to be calling me directly like this,” he said, “it usually means one thing.”Immediately Elizabeth closed her eyes.Her fingers tighten