Clara froze. The room seemed to contract around her — the glass, the marble, even the air pressing down like a verdict waiting to be spoken.Leo struggled against the guards, blood smearing his lips. “Clara! You can’t let him do this! We—we were friends once! You know I didn’t mean—”“Silence,” Ethan’s voice cut through the air like a blade.Leo fell quiet instantly, the sound dying in his throat. His fear was almost pitiful. Almost.Clara stared at him, her mind flashing through the years — the smug smirk when he humiliated Ethan at the Thompson gala, the lies whispered to destroy her reputation, the day he sold her marriage like a business contract. She remembered every bruise on Ethan’s pride, every tear she’d swallowed in silence.“Your final order,” Ethan repeated. His tone was calm, too calm, like a man who could erase entire dynasties before breakfast.Anya stood near the elevator, her red hair glinting under the soft lights. She watched quietly, ready to carry out whatever cam

The people in the city hadn’t stopped talking.Every screen, every newsfeed, every whispered conversation in café corners revolved around one name—"The Commander." Who is this person behind this wealth,is he one of Mr Thompson's descendants? They ask themselves and after worrying over this confusion with no answer,they part ways...A ghost who owned banks, crushed dynasties, and erased the Thompson name overnight.And yet, no one knew his face.Until now....**“Sir, we'll live in sixty seconds.”Ethan adjusted his cufflinks, his reflection staring back from the tinted glass of the Sky Citadel’s media room. His expression was unreadable—neither triumph nor regret.Behind him, a sea of journalists waited, flashes already strobing, microphones ready.They wanted a confession.A face to the phantom.Anya’s voice came softly through his earpiece.“Are you sure about this, Commander? If you deny it, it buys you time—but it also makes you a liar in the public eye.”Ethan’s gaze flicked to

“Why send them an invitation at all?” Clara’s voice cut through the low hum of the control room like glass. “After everything they did—after you destroyed them—why give them another chance to crawl back?” Ethan didn’t lift his head from the holographic console. Fingers glided across light, pulling data, closing deals, deleting names. Whole fortunes disappeared with a flick. “It’s not a chance,” he said. “It’s a summons.” “To humiliate them again?” “To remind them who owns the board.” His tone was calm, surgical. “They built their power on deceit. Now they’ll arrive at my event believing it’s a peace offering—and find out it’s their audit.” Clara crossed her arms. “What event?” General Varis answered from near the glass wall, his uniform catching blue light. “The unveiling of the Shadow Monarch’s heir. A closed-door gala. Every dynasty and corporation in the hemisphere will attend. Including the Thompsons.” Clara froze. “You’re revealing yourself publicly?” Ethan fi

“Tell me you’re joking.”Margaret Thompson’s voice cracked as she stared at the black envelope in her trembling hands.Her husband didn’t answer. Daniel just stood there in the ruined living room, staring at the gold-embossed seal — E.A. Industries. The same initials that had once belonged to their family’s empire, before Ethan Archer had taken it from them.“He’s inviting us to a gala?” Margaret whispered. “After everything he did?”Leo leaned against the doorway, face pale, a dark bruise under his eye from the last time he’d tried to defend them online. “It’s not an invitation,” he muttered. “It’s a warning. The man doesn’t throw parties. He throws traps.”Daniel slammed his fist against the table. “We’ll go. We’ll show them we’re not afraid.”Leo gave a bitter laugh. “You think walking into his fortress is bravery? It’s suicide. He owns everything now — the media, the board, the lawyers. You think he won’t humiliate you again?”Margaret’s eyes glistened. “He can’t erase us. We’re T

The room wasl silent,only the faint hum of the hologram filled the air — and the sound of Ethan’s heartbeat thundering in his ears.His mother;The woman whose grave he’d visited every year,the woman who’d been buried under a name carved in marble and lies.Alive!?"Clara’s gaze darted between the frozen image and Ethan’s expression — cold shock cracking into disbelief.“Ethan…” she whispered, stepping closer, “that can’t be—”He cut her off, voice sharp, trembling at the edges.“End the feed.”Anya hesitated. “Sir—”“End it!”The projection blinked out, leaving darkness in its wake.Ethan stood still for a long moment, the silence pressing down like a weight.Then he spoke — quieter, deadlier.“Where was that footage taken?”“Old Richmond Hotel,” Anya replied softly. “Leo broadcasted from there. But there’s no signal now. Someone wiped the trace.”“Someone?” Ethan’s jaw tightened. “You mean her.”Clara dared to ask, “Ethan… if that really is your mother, then—”“She’s not my mother.”