As the video played, the entire hall fell into a stunned, unnatural silence. Not even the loudmouths in the party dared interrupt what everyone was seeing with their own eyes. The scene unfolding on-screen looked like something pulled straight out of a Hollywood action blockbuster…Impossibly fast strikes, clean movements, reflexes that didn’t belong to a regular student, much less Michael. The most bullied person on campus. The boy everyone shoved in hallways without fear. The same student who once tried to throw a punch once, missed wildly, spun halfway around, and fell flat on his face while the whole class laughed. And now… this? “Bro… is he Jet Li or something?” A guy whispered in disbelief, his hand rubbing his neck. “No freaking way.” A girl murmured as her eyes widened, “Is this the same Michael? Are we sure?” People replayed the clip again and again like their minds couldn’t process it the first eight times. Every punch in the video landed sharply, decisively. Charger,

Becky froze. For a moment, her expression cracked. Her pupils dilated, her breath hitched and her fingers trembled before she forced them still again. Because she finally understood. The air around Michael shifted. His posture, his stillness, the quiet authority in the way he looked at her, no fear, no panic, just calculation…It made everything inside her confirm what she already suspected. She was standing in front of the Scofield heir. Her instincts screamed it, her bones recognized it, her brain locked onto it like a predator realizing it had accidentally cornered something far more dangerous than itself. But Becky wasn’t someone who backed down. Not when her family’s empire was hanging by a thread. Not when she had been clawing for the head position her whole life. And most especially when Danny’s stupidity had nearly toppled everything. She forced her breath steady and straightened her spine. She couldn’t bow to him, not now. She collected herself and fixed her jacket, “Alr

Becky didn’t call her father immediately after sending the money. She wanted him to feel it, to stare at those numbers long enough for the shock to reshape his reality. He needed to understand what she was now capable of. So she waited. She paced around the center of the abandoned building with her phone in hand, counting on the inevitable call. And then it came. Her lips curled into a triumphant smile, she really had won. Her father didn’t waste a second, “You have made me proud.” He said, the surprise still visible in his voice. Becky's smile widened, trying to control her excitement, she only said, “Thank you, Dad.” There was a pause on the other end. A long, heavy one like her father was swallowing what little resistance he had left. Then he said the words she had been waiting her whole life to hear, “Becky… from this moment, you are the head of the Franchester family. All authority is yours. Everything.” She inhaled sharply, “I won’t let you down.” In the background of t

Amara stood in front of them with the kind of confidence only money, or the illusion of it,could buy. She reached into her bag and brought out a check with the famous Elite Inc. symbol and held it up like it was a royal decree, her smile wide and smug. “I suppose you’re all wondering why I’m here.” She drawled, lifting the check higher so the sunlight bounced off it. “Elite Inc. paid me five million dollars.” She paused for a reaction, when she didn't get any, she continued. “Five. Million. Dollars. For promoting their revolutionary, neofuturistic, solar-powered anti-aging beauty product. The one worth a billion dollars per set? Yes, that one. And I’m the face of it.” She tapped her cheek proudly. “Of course they picked me.” Celia blinked once. “How… wonderful.” She said in a tone flat enough to iron clothes. Amara kept talking, swirling the check between her fingers. “I’m here to cash it in, obviously. Because unlike some people…” Her eyes drifted down to Barry and Jace, then

While Michael knew he couldn’t go after the Franchesters outright, not without violating his word, the undertaking, and the honor of the Scofield name, he could still humiliate them. He could frustrate them. He could remind them that even without raising a finger, he existed on a level none of them could even dream of reaching. A well calculated idea slid smoothly into place. He pulled out his phone and made a single call. “I want you outside,” He said calmly. “Immediately.” The guards stiffened, recognizing a tone that didn’t belong to an ordinary citizen. Still, they had no idea who he was talking to. However, less than two minutes later, the double doors burst open and the bank manager himself rushed out, almost tripping over his own feet as he spotted Michael standing there. His entire posture shifted in an instant, panic flooding his expression, his face became pale, his tie slightly crooked. He didn’t walk, he ran. “Sir! Sir, forgive us!” The manager sputtered, bowing shar