The condemnation grew louder with each passing second, feeding on itself like wildfire.“The labor board needs to investigate every one of her businesses!” someone shouted from the crowd.“I’m calling my PR firm right now,” a woman in diamonds announced to no one in particular, her phone already pressed to her ear. “Anyone associated with Duchamp needs to issue statements immediately, distancing themselves.”A lifestyle blogger Victoria vaguely recognized was speaking rapidly into her phone’s camera, her voice dripping with outrage. “I’m here live at what was supposed to be the event of the year, but has turned into an absolute nightmare. Madame Élise Duchamp, the woman everyone admired, has just been publicly accused of the most heinous workplace violations. And honestly? I’m shocked but not surprised. People who cultivate that kind of perfect public image are always hiding the darkest secrets.”More phones appeared, more voices joined the mob.“At the Duchamp gala. Scandal of the ce

The silence following Sophia’s words was absolute, it swallowed the entire room. Making everyone keep quiet. No one had anything to say. Well except someone as dense as Vincent.He pushed through the crowd, with his face twisted with rage, his hand already rising as he stormed toward Sophia.“You little bitch!” he snarled. “How dare you embarrass Victoria like that! How dare you…”His hand swung toward Sophia’s face. But before he could even think about getting close to her. Adrian appeared between them so fast it seemed almost supernatural. His hand caught Vincent’s wrist mid-swing, stopping the slap with such casual ease that it made Vincent look pathetic by comparison.For a moment, they stood frozen…Vincent’s arm remained trapped in Adrian’s grip, his face going from rage to shock to raw fear.Adrian’s expression was cold. Like Vincent was beneath the effort of real emotion.“Don’t,” Adrian said quietly.The single word carried more menace than any threat.Vincent tried to pull his

Madame Duchamp’s voice grew quieter, and heavier with emotion that seemed to press down on the entire ballroom.“Marie and I built our first restaurant with nothing but determination and hope,” she continued, her eyes never leaving the photograph. “We worked eighteen-hour days. We slept in the kitchen some nights because we couldn’t afford rent and a lease at the same time. But we were happy. We were together. We were building something that would make a difference.”She paused, her hand tightening on the security guard’s arm for support.“And then Marie met someone.”The bitterness in her tone made the whole room still.“His name was Lucien,” Madame Duchamp said, and her voice carried a hatred so pure it was almost tangible. “He was charming. Attentive. He told Marie she was special, that he’d never met anyone like her. That he wanted to build a future with her.”Vincent’s breathing had gone shallow. His hands trembled at his sides.“My parents didn’t approve,” Madame Duchamp continu

The paramedics continued preparing to transport Madame Duchamp, but she waved them off with an impatient gesture.“Give me a moment,” she said, her eyes fixed on Sophia and Adrian.The medical staff stepped back respectfully, though they remained close by, clearly concerned about her ankle.Madame Duchamp looked at Sophia with an expression that was equal parts warmth and assessment. “Rest well tonight, my dear. We’ll meet soon to discuss everything properly…your role, the mentorship structure,and how we’ll work together. For now, just know that I’m very glad I found you.”Sophia nodded, still looking slightly overwhelmed. “Thank you. I still can’t quite believe this is real.”“It’s real,” Madame Duchamp assured her. Then her eyes shifted to Adrian, and something mischievous flickered in her expression despite the obvious pain she was in.“She’s a good woman,” Madame Duchamp said, speaking directly to Adrian now. “Kind. Brave and obviously principled.” She paused, her lips curving int

The room was buried three levels underground, beneath one of the most expensive buildings in the city’s financial district. There were no windows or natural light. Just cold LED strips casting harsh shadows across a table carved from a single piece of black marble.Five people sat around that table, each representing generations of accumulated power and ruthless ambition. Between them, they controlled systems that were so important to modern civilization that opposing them was tantamount to declaring war on reality itself.These were the Five Families.At the head of the table sat Richard Blackwood, patriarch of the Blackwood dynasty. He was seventy-two years old but sharp as a blade, with iron-gray hair and eyes like chips of ice. The Blackwoods controlled finance…banks, investment firms, hedge funds, currency exchanges. If money moved anywhere in the world, they took a percentage. They decided who got loans and who went bankrupt. Who prospered and who drowned in debt.To his right s