The sheer weight of the turnover along with the frustration and anger of his crumbled plot—had Caspian Roderick trembling with rage.His fingers dug into his palm, knuckles popping sharply as if they might burst through his skin.“You dare screw my wife,” he snarled. “And you bastard have the guts to preach nonsense to my ears. I swear—you’re dead.”He couldn’t even tell what infuriated him more. Ragnar’s maddening calm throughout his tirade? Or the bitterness and frustration of his plan falling apart at the last possible moment?He could have satisfied his urges with Cassandra, but a worthless nobody had enjoyed the fruits of his efforts instead. He had thrown away a hundred grand just to get the Lustbane smuggled in from Kerala, bypassing security checks and government officials.Caspian’s anger hit a breaking point. His eyes flushed red with fury. He lunged, swinging his arm wildly to land a punch across Ragnar’s face.Ragnar didn’t react immediately—not until the very last second.

The door creaked as it opened.A police officer in black suit walked in with a tablet in his hand. A crisp suit poured over him, appearing too smooth, almost arrogance shining. His badge flashed his name: 'Detective Durand' like a declaration that the room was under his control now.The door clicked shut behind gently. He paused, looking at Ragnar like coldness and barely concealed malice.He moved to the desk and sat behind the camera, setting down a tablet on the desk. Tension rose in the room as the silence stretched between them. Detective Durand leaned in, locking his finger on the desk. He looked at Ragnar like he was a complete disaster."Ragner Reid, Isn't," He didn't need to look into the tablet, as though the judgement had been passed behind Ragnar. Ragner didn't blink. He stared expressionlessly at the Detective, and the quiet composure felt like a punch to Durand's composed authority.His face etched with lines of annoyance as he gnarled. "You're acting too relaxed for a

THE RODERICK MANSIONThe Rodrick mansion is a testament of wealth and power. Curtains imported from Loro piana draped over the windows, gilded furniture and fixtures glistening under the warm glow of recessed lights. Above, a giant chandelier cast a tiny crystal to the marble floor.Gerald Roderick.The patriarch of the Rodrick family— the man whose temper is as hot as Magma. In Gerald's dictionary, there is no mistake. He'd never failed. And when he's not the one in charge, dare make one mistake and you'll have your fingers gone— He's cold and unforgiving.He stepped out down from the staircase, a 'Samsung Galaxy S24', Ultra, custom made, pressed on his ear. His posture imposed at six feet two. His hair was salt and pepper. Not a strand dare to waggle. A navy suit poured over his body, embroidered with tiny diamonds that scattered light on the suit lapel. "I want the goods in my yard in the next 30 minutes, Jax!" He hissed into the phone. "I entrusted you with the delivery. The

The inside of the Valemore living room was heating. The family members assembled themselves around a long table.Among them was Amelia, the eldest daughter of the family who had always hated Cassandra for being the CEO of the Valemore group.She believes the position was meant for her, and Cassandra had snatched her place because of some cheap leadership skills she displayed to curry the father's attention.That had led to a big feud a big feud which led to splitting the Valemore business and resources into two. Half of which is handled by Cassandra, and the other by AmeliaAnd Jason Valemore, the last child—always too sure of himself, always the loudest guy in the room."You've put this family into shame, Cassandra," Mr. Valemore continued berating, his eyes blazing. "You're always different," His finger snapped in the air. "You went in there to bail a man.. that criminal who raped you! What has really gotten into you!""Maybe it's time to know who should really handle all the family