The following morning, Caro stood in the spacious lobby of Shepherd Group headquarters, her employment letter clutched tightly in her hand. The building was even more impressive than she remembered. She felt small and insignificant as she approached the reception desk. "I'm here to see Victoria Cross," Caro said, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her chest. "I have an appointment." The receptionist, a young woman with sharp eyes and a warm smile, glanced at the letter. "Please have a seat. Ms. Cross will attend to you soon." Caro nodded and took a seat in the waiting area. The chairs were plush leather, the coffee table stacked with magazines and newspapers. She sat with her back straight, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on the elevator doors. Minutes passed. Then an hour. Caro checked her phone. Still no Victoria Cross. She shifted in her seat, her eyes darting toward the reception desk. The receptionist was busy with other visitors, answering calls

The study in the Shepherd estate was quiet, interrupted only by the gentle rustling of papers and the faint crackling of fire burning in the fireplace. Bruce sat behind his mahogany desk with his sleeves rolled up and a glass of whiskey next to him. He had spent hours reviewing documents: contracts, acquisition proposals, and quarterly reports. The life of a trillionaire was never dull, but it was often tedious. Lately, he has been working nonstop without taking any time to rest. There was so much to do that if Victoria hadn't been handling all the heavy lifting, he would have burnt out. Just then, Oswald entered the room and bowed slightly before Bruce. "Master Bruce, you have a letter mailed to you."Bruce looked up with a smirk. "A letter? Do people still send those these days? There's this thing called Gmail, Oswald. Very convenient. People should try it.""I am aware of email, Master Bruce," Oswald said. "However, this particular letter is likely an invitation. I think you sh

The following three weeks were packed with a lot of preparation. Bruce worked tirelessly to ensure the Shepherd family's future was secure. If something were to happen to him, he needed to ensure that Michaelangelo would inherit the chairmanship without dispute.He called his attorneys to the estate and had them draft a comprehensive will and succession plan. Each document was examined thoroughly, with every clause perfectly crafted to eliminate any possible loopholes. Bruce had seen how easily families could be torn apart by greed and ambition. He wouldn't let that happen to his own.His only real concern was his aunt, Abigail Shepherd. Since the Zenith Clan crisis, Abigail Shepherd and her children had found peace with Bruce, and the experience had humbled them all. But Bruce knew better than to assume that peace would last forever. Abigail had once plotted against him. She had once allied herself with Thomas in an attempt to seize control of the Shepherd empire. Although she

Lord Henry rose from his chair and gestured toward a set of French doors that led out into the garden. "This way, Mr. Shepherd. I'll show you your accommodations myself." Bruce followed him through the doors and into a sprawling garden that seemed to stretch for acres. As they walked, Bruce's eyes drifted to a large wooden structure on the far side of the garden. It was a beautiful stable with a red-tiled roof and wide doors that stood open to the afternoon breeze. Inside, he could see a dozen horses, their coats gleaming as they moved in their stalls. A stable hand was brushing one of the horses, a magnificent black stallion that stamped its hooves impatiently. Bruce slowed his pace, staring at the stable for a long moment. Lord Henry noticed. "Do you like horses?" Henry asked, his voice light and curious. Bruce shook his head. "Not particularly. I was just thinking about opening a horse stable back home. My countryside has plenty of empty land. It might be a good investment.