The penthouse sat on top of Sunville's most exclusive high-rise. The city lights pierced through windows, casting shadows on the marble floor.Demian lay on the king sized bed. His white shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his muscle and abs and his bronze skin. In his right hand, was a crystal glass filled with Champagne. Although immortal, but today, his body had betrayed him. He was dying, dying in lust. He took a slow sip, savoring the bittersweet taste on his tongue. He let out a deep sigh, and his hands reached for his phone sitting on the bedside. His thumb slid across the screen with ease until he found her name: Diana Washington.The call didn't connect but was directed to voicemail. He wasted no time. "Come to my penthouse," he said without a hold. His voice was like a low rasp that commanded obedience. "Put on a royal red dress. And come alone. No security, no escort. You have twenty minutes."He ended the call and threw the phone to the bed. Across the city…In the ea

At exactly 9:30 am. Marianne sat on the backseat of her Lamborghini Urus while the driver sped along the sleek roads that led to De Lama production.Days had passed, but she had been restless. Knowing the Overlord was somewhere, attending to whatever, but he sure as hell didn't forget about her.Hades was gone. Disappeared all of a sudden, and she had no idea how. Her phone buzzed.A text. From an unknown number. Her eyes glued to the screen as she studied the blank contact details.Something tightened in her chest. But she clicked the message anyway. *Meet Mr Chen once you get to the company.* No key note. No clear context, just a direct instruction. Her fingers went stiff for a second, dread pooling in her chest.Mr Chen was the director general of De Lama production—the largest movie production company in Sunville.Two minutes later, the car halted in front of the sleek tall building. Atop the building was written—DE LAMA.De Lama production was originally owned by Hades Buckl

Demian readjusted on his feet, taking an inch forward and closing the gap between them.“Then you'll never be alone again. You'll never feel hurt from people who you believe to be friends. The world will call your name in whispers and tremble in your presence.”In an instant, something cracked open in her chest.Her smile was cute. Small but beautiful. Her sparkling white teeth glittered in the blue chandelier light.“Then I accept.” She took his hand, and Marianne staggered back. Hot tears bloomed in her eyes.Demian raised her hand and turned around. “Rise and take your seat everybody.” Soft noise erupted as the entire set rose from the floor.They all avoided eye contact with the Overlord."Antonia is under my protection. She is mine. Anyone who harms her answers to me personally. Eyes widened in the studio. “Yes Overlord!” They chanted. Antonia raised her brows. Uncertainty hung in her gaze, "Yours?”He stepped in and his left hand curled behind her back. He pulled her to his c

The Rastro mansion sprawled across twenty acres of neglected grounds.A Mediterranean stylish building with thirty rooms, and three wings connected by marble corridors that echoed emptiness. Inside, the air was stale, a looming disaster that had made the home of the wealthy billionaire look like a graveyard. In the east wing master bedroom, Quentin Rastro lay, dying slowly. His wet, rattling breaths extended the agony of those waiting for an inheritance. His children had carved out territories: some camped in the library with estate documents and lawyers' cards. Some drank through the wine cellar in the billiard room. Some make frantic calls to creditors from the conservatory. They pass each other without speaking, each calculating their share, and terrified the others will claim more.Senator Dickson walked into the large building. The whole place was in chaos. The family had kept the information from the media for days, but the billionaire’s health wasn't getting any better.Se

The medical instruments told lies that science couldn't explain.Dr. Okonkwo pressed the stethoscope against Quentin Rastro's chest for the third time. His dark face creased with confusion. "This is impossible.""What is?" Mrs Theresa gripped her husband's hand. She was afraid. Too afraid to believe what she was seeing."His heart." The doctor pulled back, staring at Quentin, like he had risen from the dead.In a way, he had. "Last week it was failing. Barely pumping. Now it's..." He checked the monitor again. "It's just perfect. Better than perfect. It's functioning like a man half his age."The second doctor, a younger woman named Chen, was reviewing blood work on her tablet. "The cancer markers are gone. Completely gone. Not reduced. Not in remission. It's as if they never existed."She looked up, and her gaze met with Dr Okonkwo’s."Run the tests again," Dr. Okonkwo ordered.She frowned.“But sir…”"I've run them four times, sir.""Then run them for the fifth."Dr Chen quickly t