“Please, he’s had 12 surgeries already, but nothing’s worked. I believe you can heal him, Golden Ornix.” A trembling woman, pleaded, holding the little boy in her arms. Tears filled her face. She looked completely dirty and frail, as if she hadn’t eaten in days. As she knelt before the Golden Throne, that extremely handsome man sat, his expression calm and his aura exuded power. Just before the man could say anything, another woman rushed forward. “Please! My case is way worse than hers! Please, help us! My daughter hasn’t even been able to speak in 5 months, because of her condition!”The man sighed. More people kept rushing in. The huge mansion was filled with crying, desperate people, each pleading for help. The women’s voices overlapped, cries mingling with sobs.And then, the moment he opened his mouth to speak, he —***Desmond Knight woke up to cold water being splashed on his face. He opened his eyes and was met with a pair of angry hazel eyes, which belonged to the famous C

Desmond looked at them in confusion. “Your boss?” he asked. “Who’s your boss, and what business does he have with me?”The men exchanged glances, then smirked bitterly. “You have no right to question us, you commoner,” one of them said, looking at him with disgust. “But if you must know, our boss is the famous multi-billionaire Victor Vixen. And he has requested your presence.”The man leaned closer. “Trust me, he hates when people are late. And he hates disobedience, especially from nobodies like you.”Desmond felt his heart race. Still, he straightened his shoulders. He might be poor and powerless. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly. “I was in the middle of a conversation with my landlord. Don’t interrupt. After that, if I agree to go, then so be it.”The men looked at each other again.Behind them, the landlord scoffed loudly. “A conversation with who?” he said mockingly. “We’re done here. Since you refuse to send your details so I can refun

“I'll marry her!” Desmond’s voice trembled.Shambu paused. His hand hovered inches above the steaming pot, the heat burning his skin without even touching it. Damien’s whole body shook, not just from pain now, but from intense fear.“I’ll get married to her,” he repeated, voice breaking. “I swear it. Just… please.”For a moment, the room went eerily quiet.Then Victor laughed loudly. “You see?” he said, turning to the room as if addressing an audience. “Reason always works in the end.”He waved his hand lazily. “Pull him away from the water.”The man withdrew his hand, and Damien collapsed fully to the floor, gasping. His fingers curled into the floor, his back burning.Mr. Victor crouched in front of him, close enough that Damien could smell his expensive cologne. “Remember this moment,” Victor said softly. “Remember how easily your pride broke. Because marriage or not, your life belongs to us now.”Damien swallowed, tears mixing with blood as they rolled down his face. He nodded wea

“If you try anything funny today, you leave this place in a coffin,” Mr. Vixen said coldly to Desmond who sat stiffly on the seat with his hands clenched on his thighs. It was his wedding day, yet it felt more like the day of his execution.He stood and moved to sit in front of the mirror. He didn’t know what he was supposed to feel anymore. For the past week, they had tortured him in ways that left no visible marks but endless pain. His back still hurt. His knee throbbed. And yet they had forced him into a singlet, then a shirt, and then a suit on top of it all, even though the layers only made the pain worse.The suit wasn’t even his size. The sleeves stopped just before his wrists. There were no cufflinks, wrist watches. Not even perfume. Everything about him looked wrong. They had done it on purpose.Mr. Vixen glanced at his watch. “It’s almost time. He better be out there.”With that, he turned and walked out.Desmond was left alone in the room. Moments later, the door opened aga

“Come on, get out!” an officer barked as the heavy cell door swung open.Desmond’s wrists ached as they grabbed him roughly, dragging him to his feet. He stumbled slightly, his back still sore from the old injuries, but the officers didn’t care. They dragged him down the stone corridor with other prisoners. Two weeks in prison had made every day a repeat of hell. Every few days, they were forced to do tedious, exhausting work like; lifting heavy blocks and buckets of water, bathing cows, weeding endless fields, running until their lungs burned, and often going without food. Those who stopped halfway were whipped.They pushed him into a wide, open yard where dozens of other prisoners were already at work. Blood streamed down some men’s arms, their lips swollen from previous beatings. Others collapsed in the middle of a task, barely conscious. Their groans mixed with the barked orders of the officers, who moved among them like predators.Desmond’s eyes fell on a frail figure being push