General Shaw looked down at his pockets, his breathing uneven as his fingers brushed against the lining. “I should still have the taser net gun capsule.” He reached in deeper, his fingers searching with urgency until they brushed over the small cylindrical capsules. A flicker of relief crossed his face. He took out a couple of them into his palm, staring at them for a brief moment as if confirming they were real and not just wishful thinking. “Now who held the gun?” General Shaw thought, his eyes moving across the fallen soldiers, scanning each body quickly. His gaze settled. “Thomas… it must be Thomas.” Not far from him, Midas’s voice cut through the tension. “I told you the truth!!!!” Midas exclaimed, his eyes bulging as panic clawed its way through him. He swallowed hard as Kylen applied more pressure to the knife resting against his neck, the blade pressing just enough to remind him how close he was to death. “Believe me or not, but those two are the mastermin

This time, Draven let his convoy be visible as they rode back to his villa. The Rolls Royce came to a smooth stop, and before the engine fully settled, Kylen was already out of the car. He moved quickly, opening the door without hesitation. Draven stepped out, his expression unchanged. Inside… “Welcome sir.” Mrs. Elara and the other workers bowed their heads in unison as they greeted him. Their voices were calm, controlled, and careful. Draven walked past them without slowing down, already heading for the stairs. His focus had shifted long before he stepped into the house. He made his way to Abigail’s room and pushed the door open. The nurse inside jolted awake immediately, startled out of her sleep. She rose to her feet at once, her head bowed, her posture stiff with tension. Draven barely spared her a glance. His attention rested completely on Abigail. She lay asleep on the bed, her breathing steady, her body still. Her hair had been tied into a neat bun, and sh

The next morning, Draven rose before the sun, as he always did, and made his way to the gym for his routine workout. As he approached the glass sliding doors, his steps slowed. Through the clear panels, he spotted the lady he had saved from Miss Chaudhry. He paused, watching her with mild amusement flickering in his eyes. “What does she think she’s doing?” She lay on the leg press machine, her back pressed against the pad, hands gripping the handles tightly. A soft groan slipped from her lips as she pushed the weight upward. Her movement lacked control as it was uneven and strained, but she managed to extend her legs fully. For a quick moment, she held it there, breathing heavily. Then she bent her knees again. Another groan escaped her, this time heavier, more strained. The weight came down slowly, but her legs began to tremble under the pressure. Draven tilted his head slightly, observing. “Well… that’s a start,” he muttered under his breath before pushing the

Draven finished his routine and stepped out of the gym. After a quick shower, he made his way down to the basement. Kylen followed behind him in silence. The elevator doors chimed open, and they stepped inside. “Tell me,” Draven said flatly. Kylen straightened slightly. “Mrs. Elara’s daughter… nineteen years old. She studies at Western College. She’s Mrs. Elara’s only child.” Draven’s expression didn’t change, but his thoughts flickered briefly. I don’t keep detailed knowledge of my staff’s families. I pay for their children’s education according to their salary terms, but Kylen handles all of that. “Mrs. Elara mentioned that her daughter wanted to see you.” Draven said. “Huh?” Kylen blurted before he could stop himself. “Wanting to see you? For what?” Draven’s eyes shifted sharply to him. Kylen stiffened instantly. “Apologies, sir.” “What’s her birthday?” Draven asked, fixing his gaze on the elevator door. Kylen didn’t hesitate. “2nd November, 2005.” Draven t

Margaret and SP Maxwell arrived at Midas’s new villa not long after the call came in. The moment they stepped out of the car and crossed into the entrance, a thick, foul stench hit them, invading their nostrils. Margaret pulled out a handkerchief from her bag. She pressed it over her nose, blocking off the stench. SP Maxwell’s nose wrinkled slightly, his brows drawing together. “This way, ma’am.” Sergeant Alfred approached them quickly. He was the one who had made the call earlier, informing Margaret about Midas's demise. Margaret gave a short nod. She had only a handful of officers whose loyalty belonged solely to her. Men like Alfred and Maxwell had earned their positions through quiet obedience, and in return, she ensured their ranks advanced steadily. Alfred turned and led the way into the villa. The closer they got, the thicker the smell became. As they entered the living hall, the scene before them made Margaret halt. Her eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the s