Adam arrived at Max house. The men Clinton had sent stood in the corners, their faces hard, their hands on their weapons. They nodded when Adam entered. Luca's mum sat in the same chair, still tied, her head bowed, her shoulders shaking. Tracy sat beside her, her hands still bound, her face pale, her eyes dry. She looked up when Adam walked in, watched him cross the room, watched him crouch in front of her mother-in-law. "Untie them," Adam said. The men moved, cutting the ropes, freeing their hands, their ankles, their chests. Luca's mum slumped forward, her head in her hands, her body shaking. Tracy rubbed her wrists, stood, pressed her hand against her belly. Adam turned to her. "Luca is in the car, he's alive. He's going back to prison. Maximum security. No visitors or calls." Tracy's face did not change. Her eyes were dry. Her lips were pressed together. Luca's mum stood, her legs unsteady, her hands shaking. Tracy did not move. She stood in the center of the ro

Agatha's hands slammed against the table. "No one told me," she said, her voice low, trembling. "No one thought to inform me that a stranger bought his way into my boardroom?" “Stranger?” Adam mumbled loud enough for her to hear. “Who's the stranger?” He asked, turning around. Agatha clenched her fist, she knew Adam was making a fool out of her. Patricia, already irritated, shifted in her seat, her fingers smoothing the edge of her notepad. "It was a minor transaction. We didn't think it was important," she responded nonchalantly. Agatha's head snapped toward her. "Minor? A minor transaction? He just seated himself at that table. He just claimed a vote. And you didn't think it was important?" She yelled. “Reduce your voice, this isn't a market place,” Adam said. Agatha squeezed her clothes, if it wasn't that it was Adam, she would not have hesitated to show him her other side. Patricia's face was still, but her eyes flickered. "You were busy with the election.

Agatha's hands slammed against the table, papers scattered. "What's going on here? Answer me! All of you!" Her voice cracked, high and wild. Her eyes darted from face to face. Damon looked at the table. Patricia looked at the window. The other board members shifted in their seats, uncomfortable, silent. "You sabotaged me," Agatha spat. Her finger pointed at Patricia, then at Damon, then at the others. "All of you. You planned this. Behind my back." Damon cleared his throat. "Agatha, the vote was fair…" "Fair?" Agatha's laugh was sharp, broken. "You stood there and smiled at me. You nodded. You let me believe…" She stopped, pressed her hand against her chest, tried to steady her breathing. It did not work. "You let me believe I had won." Patricia's voice was calm. "We voted for who we thought was best for the company." Agatha spun toward her. "Best for the company? Best for the company? I am the company. I built it. I bled for it. And you…" She pointed at Olivia.

Ethan knelt in the truck bed, one knee pressed into Thomas's spine, his gun pressed against the back of the man's head . Blood from his bicep wound dripped onto Thomas's shirt. Thomas laughed. "You're going to kill me here?" Thomas asked. "On the side of the road? Like a dog?" Ethan pressed the barrel harder. "Tempting." Victoria glanced in the rearview mirror. Her face was pale, streaked with dirt and blood that wasn't hers. Her hands gripped the wheel tight. "Ethan," she said. "We need him alive." Ethan didn't answer. His jaw was locked. His eyes were black pits. Anna sat in the back seat, curled against the door. Her wrists were raw from the cuffs. Her swollen eye had closed completely. She stared at Thomas through the rear window, her eyes wide with something between hatred and grief. Ethan grabbed Thomas's hair and slammed his face against the truck bed. Cartilage crunched. Blood sprayed. "Ethan!" Victoria shouted. "Drive," Ethan said. His voice was flat. De

Adam pressed further. “The Mob outside, are none other than the villagers. Agatha's face went white, she couldn't believe they were here. "The villagers," Adam continued. "The ones you bled dry. The ones you watched die because they couldn't afford your prices." Agatha's legs moved. She paced to the window and saw them already stoning the gate, immediately she turned around and began to pace back and forth. She was sweating despite the cold room. "The mob…" Her voice cracked. She stopped, swallowed. "They won't listen to me. They'll tear me apart.” Don, knowing this was close to a death sentence for his mum, quickly walked to Adam and dropped to his knees. The sound echoed through the silent room. His head bowed and his hands pressed flat against the floor. "Please," Don said. His voice was low, shaking. "Help her." Adam did not move, his face was calm and his eyes were on Agatha. Don raised his head, tears ran down his cheeks. "I'm begging you, she's my mothe