"Do you have a death wish?"Claire Sterling's voice cut through the hall like a blade of ice.Richard Langley stood frozen, the barrel of her gun pressed against his temple. Sweat poured down his face, soaking through his expensive collar.Claire's voice rang out, cold and absolute."Richard Langley. Abuse of power. Conspiracy to commit human trafficking. Assault of a minor. Damage to Sterling Global's reputation and interests."The crowd, which had witnessed everything that had transpired tonight, went silent."You used Sterling Global's name to facilitate your crimes," Claire continued, her expression carved from stone. "You brought shame to this company."She pressed the gun harder against his head."You are terminated. Effective immediately. All positions, all benefits, all protections—gone." Her voice was absolute. "Security will escort you directly to the authorities. I have already forwarded all evidence."Richard stared at Claire, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasp

The guards finally stopped. They unlocked the shackles and let them fall to the ground with a heavy clank.Then, without a word, they turned and walked back into the club.Vivian and Marcus collapsed on the pavement, gasping for air. Their hands were raw. Their knees were bruised and bleeding.The crowd pressed closer.Someone laughed. "Wait—isn't that Marcus Ashford? The heir to the Ashford family?""It is!" another voice exclaimed. "And that's Vivian Hart! I saw her at a charity gala last month!"More laughter erupted.Flashes went off. Videos recorded. Social media posts were already being typed.Vivian buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Her entire body shook with the force of her humiliation.Marcus lay on the pavement, his chest heaving. His fists slowly clenched.His body shook—not from exhaustion.From pure, burning rage.He lifted his head and looked back at the club entrance. The bright lights. The closed doors.His eyes were bloodshot. His face was twisted

"Ethan Cross," he replied simply.Harrison Cole studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he pushed himself to his feet.Sophia gasped and rushed to support him. "Grandfather, wait! You shouldn't—""I'm fine," Harrison said, his voice stronger than it had been in years.He stood fully upright, releasing Sophia's arm. He took a deep breath. Then another. His eyes widened with each breath.The crowd watched in stunned silence.Harrison looked down at his hands. He flexed his fingers. Rotated his shoulders. Took several steps forward.No pain.No tightness in his chest.No shortness of breath.For the first time in over twenty years, he felt... whole.His mind reeled. The old injury—the one he'd sustained during his military service, the hidden damage that had plagued him ever since—it was gone. Completely gone.He had consulted the best doctors in the country. Spent millions on treatments. Taken countless medications.Nothing had worked.And yet this young man, this stranger with wor

Harrison looked at his granddaughter and let out a long, weary sigh.Without another word, he rose from his chair and walked back into his room.Sophia stood frozen, tears threatening to spill over. She thought he was avoiding the issue. Running from it.A moment later, Harrison returned.In his hand was a neatly sealed box—the so-called “special medicine” from the hospital.He tossed it casually onto the floor in front of her.The box slid across the marble tiles and stopped at her feet.Sophia startled. She quickly wiped her tears and bent down, confusion written all over her face. She opened the box.Inside, every vial was untouched.Perfectly arranged. Sealed. Unused.Not a single dose had been taken.Sophia’s breath caught. She slowly looked up at her grandfather, disbelief flooding her eyes.“You… you didn’t take any of it?”Harrison shook his head, his gaze steady.“I grew tired of endless medications long ago,” he said quietly. “For months, I haven’t taken a single dose.”Soph

The men didn’t answer.The back door was yanked open.Claire tried to fight, but they were too strong, too fast.They dragged her from the car and into the van.The entire operation took less than thirty seconds.The van's door slammed shut. The vehicle sped away, tires screeching.Claire's driver lay on the pavement, dazed and bleeding from a cut on his forehead. Passersby began to gather, pulling out phones to call for help.But the van was already gone.Inside the van, Claire's hands were yanked behind her back and zip-tied together. A cloth bag was pulled over her head, blocking her vision.She forced herself to stay calm. To think.This was planned. Professional. They knew her route.Someone had been watching her.The van drove for what felt like twenty minutes, though Claire couldn't be sure. When it finally stopped, rough hands grabbed her arms and pulled her out.She was marched across uneven ground—gravel, maybe—then through a doorway. The air changed. Cooler. The sound echoi