Kace Cameron stared at the crackling fire in the massive fireplace with a glass of bourbon in his hand. His blazer lay on the armchair behind him, and the sleeves of his white undershirt were rolled up as he stood by the fireplace. It was another failure, and he was getting tired. He was starting to feel incompetent–like he was never going to find out what really happened. Five years had passed, a nd there was still no lick or a major step forward. Jarrell had been a fraud, but he knew that he had been hiding something. That was one of the reasons he had let him leave. He was going to check up on him in a few months, and hopefully, he would have something good to report.Harvey appeared behind him with an iPad in his hand. He was worried about Kace because he had been quiet since he returned. It seemed that this whole mission was taking a huge turn, and it was affecting Kace negatively. Maybe he shouldn't have agreed to help Kace. He should've told him to let it go. But he had admired

The Hendrix Industries skyscraper was one of the tallest buildings in the city, and it stood out from the rest because of its sleek nature. It was regarded as one of the most beautiful buildings in the whole of New York and had won several accolades in the past because of its beauty. And today, that was where Austen Hendrix sat. He was in the conference room where all the shareholders had assembled for an emergency meeting, a meeting which was appalling to Austen, hence his grim expression.Also, he was angry because he was going to get to see Kace for the first time in the same room. Who would have thought that they would end up in the same room someday? Definitely not him, because he thought that his daughter had gotten rid of her ex-husband. But now he was back with a vendetta that involved him getting everything he worked so hard for stolen from him. He had warned Kace to stay away from him and the company, and he thought that wouldn't work. But so far, the good-for-nothing basta

The Manhattan skyline bled into twilight as Kace’s Porsche purred to a halt outside his penthouse tower, the city’s relentless hum fading behind the tinted glass. He killed the engine, the day’s victories and frustrations weighing on him like an invisible anchor. The boardroom coup with Thomas Ackles had been a sweet notch in his belt, but the Hendrixes’ empire was a hydra—cut off one head, and two more snarled back. Exhaustion clawed at his edges; his shoulders ached from the tension he’d carried since Atlanta, Jarrell’s cryptic warnings echoing in his mind like a bad hangover. He needed a drink, a shower, and silence.The private elevator whisked him up to the top floor, doors parting with a soft chime into the expansive foyer. Marble floors gleamed under recessed lights; the air was cool and scented with a faint hint of leather from the custom furnishings. Kace shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it over a nearby console, and loosened his tie as he padded into the living room. Fl

The infinity pool on the penthouse terrace shimmered under the Manhattan moonlight, the city’s skyline a glittering backdrop of steel and glass that seemed to pulse with the energy of a million lives below. Autumn Wilson leaned against the glass railing, her short black spiky hair tousled by the evening breeze that carried hints of exhaust and river mist. She had shed her leather jacket inside, leaving her in a fitted black tank that hugged her athletic frame, arms crossed as she watched Kace slice through the water with powerful, rhythmic strokes. His hair was plastered to his head, droplets cascading down his toned back and shoulders, each muscle rippling under olive skin that gleamed like polished bronze under the terrace lights. She couldn’t help it—her eyes raked over him unabashedly, tracing the broad expanse of his chest as he turned for another lap, the way his arms cut the water with precision, the V of his hips just visible above the surface. Heat bloomed low in her belly,

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of the modest Brooklyn apartment, casting long shadows across the cluttered living room. Anderson Rogers stood by the kitchen counter, his broad shoulders tense under a faded army t-shirt, the scars of St. Maria hidden but never forgotten. His salt-and-pepper hair was cropped short, military style, and his weathered face bore the lines of a man who’d seen too much. Across from him, his daughter Emilia slammed her cereal bowl down, milk sloshing over the rim. At sixteen, she was a whirlwind of teenage fury—long auburn hair tied in a messy ponytail, brown eyes blazing with accusation.“You’re unbelievable, Dad!” Emilia shouted, her voice cracking with emotion. “You drove Mom away! All your paranoia, your nightmares— she couldn’t take it anymore. And now you’re acting like everything’s fine?”Anderson set his coffee mug down carefully, his callused hands steady despite the storm brewing inside. “Em, it’s not that simple. Your mom and I… we tr