The photographs lay between them like accusations.Derick couldn't stop staring at his father's face in that military uniform, at the medals pinned across his chest that spoke of wars and secrets Derick had never known existed. His mother's elegant smile as she stood beside presidents felt like looking at a stranger wearing his mother's skin.Gerald Ashworth waited in patient silence, hands folded in his lap like a priest hearing confession."The Foundation," Derick finally said, his voice rougher than he intended, "consists of how many families?""Twelve." Gerald's answer came soft but certain. "Ancient bloodlines that control finance, politics, military, technology. All from the shadows, Mr. Sekwiga. We are the strings that make the world's puppets dance."The words should have sounded insane. Conspiracy theory nonsense spouted by paranoid old men in dark libraries. But the photographs were real. The medals were real. And the hollow ache in Derick's chest where his parents' truth sh

The Royal Mile Tavern smelled like centuries of whiskey and secrets.Derick pushed through the heavy oak door at exactly noon, and the silence that greeted him looked suspicious. Pubs like this should be alive with conversation and clinking glasses, with locals nursing afternoon pints and tourists pretending they understood Scottish history. Instead, the space was empty like a tomb, every table vacant, every chair pushed in.Someone had cleared the place out.His footsteps echoed on worn floorboards as he walked deeper into the tavern. The bar stretched along one wall, bottles gleaming like promises behind it, but no bartender stood ready to pour. Just emptiness.Marcus Thornhill sat at the center table like a king holding court in hell.The man was exactly as Gerald's photograph had shown him, except that he even looked somehow worse in person. Scars crisscrossed his cheeks and jaw, turning his skin into a roadmap of violence. His eyes were the coldest thing Derick had ever seen, emp

Marcus Thornhill delivered his promise.The second package arrived three days after the first, this one three times larger than the first one. USB drives filled with encrypted files. Handwritten notes detailing meetings Marcus had attended as the conspiracy's enforcer. Bank statements showing money flowing through complex channels.Lily spread the documents across the penthouse suite's dining table, her eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and horror."This is gold," she breathed, fingers dancing across her laptop as she began cross-referencing names and transactions. "We can dismantle their entire network. Every Foundation member involved in the conspiracy, every corrupt official they've bought, and every shell company they've used to hide their crimes. It's all here."Derick stood at the window, watching Edinburgh wake up under a grey sky that perfectly matched his mood. The weight of what his parents had started settled on his shoulders like armor.His phone rang. Marcus's number

The internet ignited before dawn.Derick woke to his phone vibrating with notifications so relentless the device shifted across the nightstand. Social media had erupted with footage from Lady Margaret's auction, videos captured on smartphones and shared a million times before sunrise over London."AMERICAN BILLIONAIRE DOMINATES EUROPEAN ELITE" blared the headlines."Sekwiga Spends £100 Million in One Night—New Money Makes Old Money Look Poor."Articles dissected every moment of the auction with breathless enthusiasm usually reserved for royal scandals. Someone captured the exact second Alexander Rostov's face paled. Another video showed Sebastian Dubois’s nervous laugh, replayed and analyzed frame by frame. Even Mei Chen’s subtle shock was immortalized in high definition.But the video that went viral showed Derick’s face at the final bid, his expression so calm it bordered on boredom, as if spending a hundred million pounds was just another Tuesday morning.The comments section was a

Derick waited until morning to confront her, allowing the night to burn away his initial rage until only cold clarity remained.Lily arrived at the suite at seven, carrying coffee and briefing documents as if it were just another day of crisis, her professional mask perfectly intact despite the exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She placed the papers on the desk, organized them by priority."I saw you," Derick said quietly from by the window. "Last night. In the parking garage."The words hit like bullets.Lily froze mid-motion, her hand hovering above the documents, every muscle in her body tensing with the fear that her secrets had been discovered. The color drained from her face so quickly that Derick worried she might faint."You were watching me?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, shock, violation, and terror tangled in those four words."I needed to know if my instincts were wrong," Derick replied, strugglin