Ryan Steel returned to the lounge after taking his call, only to find his cousin Liam sitting frozen in his chair, his face drained of all color and his hands trembling violently."Liam?" Ryan's irritation shifted to concern. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."Liam's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. Finally, he managed to croak out, "My money. All of it. Gone.""What are you talking about?" Ryan sat down, his expression sharpening. "Explain clearly.""Someone... someone drained my accounts. Every single one." Liam's voice was hollow with shock. "Two million dollars. Just... gone."Ryan's eyes widened. "Two million? How is that possible? Your accounts have security—""I got alerts. Transfers. And then..." Liam fumbled for his phone with shaking hands. "I got a message. From him. From Marcus Hayes.""What did it say?"Liam pulled up his messages, scrolling frantically. His face went from white to gray. "It was right here. I saw it. It said the money went to his account

Liam Steel stood in the center of Diana's elegant dining room, his chest heaving with barely controlled rage, his finger still pointed accusingly at Marcus Hayes like a weapon."You think you're so smart, don't you?" Liam's voice trembled with fury. "You think you can just steal from me and get away with it? I'm warning you right now, Hayes—reverse what you did, or you're going to be in more trouble than your pathetic street rat brain can comprehend!"Diana set down her wine glass with a sharp clink, her expression hardening into the ice-cold mask that made grown businessmen squirm. "Liam, I asked you a question. What exactly are you talking about?"Liam's mouth opened, then snapped shut as the trap of his own making became crystal clear. His face cycled through several shades of red as he struggled with the impossible situation he'd created for himself.He couldn't tell Diana that Marcus had hacked his accounts and stolen two million dollars—because explaining why Marcus would target

The Morrison villa had settled into an unusual calm over the past few days. After Catherine's humiliating experience at the police station—where the officers had practically worshipped Marcus instead of arresting him—she'd made herself scarce, avoiding the villa entirely while she tried to process what had happened.Diana found the absence of her mother's constant interference surprisingly pleasant, though she'd never admit it out loud.Saturday morning arrived with pale autumn sunlight filtering through the villa's tall windows. Diana descended the curved staircase in comfortable loungewear, her hair pulled back in a simple ponytail—a rare concession to weekend casualness that she never would have allowed anyone to see before Marcus.The sound of voices from the living room made her pause halfway down the stairs.Marcus's voice, calm and measured as always. But there was another voice—deep, authoritative, with a slight accent Diana couldn't quite place. Not threatening, but definitel

Marcus held Diana's gaze for a long moment, clearly weighing how much to reveal. Finally, he turned to Rex, his expression carefully neutral."Thank you for the update, Rex. Keep me informed about the charity event—any changes to the schedule, the guest list, anything unusual.""Yes, sir." Rex's posture remained rigidly military, his eyes flicking between Marcus and Diana with barely concealed concern. "I'll have hourly reports ready by Monday.""That won't be necessary. Daily summaries will suffice." Marcus's tone softened slightly. "I appreciate you coming personally."Rex nodded once, sharp and precise, then turned to Diana with a respectful incline of his head. "Mrs. Hayes."As Rex moved toward the door, Diana's voice cut through the room like a whip crack. "Wait. Marcus, who exactly is Rex? You said colleague, but colleagues don't usually show up at seven AM on a Saturday with intelligence reports."Marcus's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "He's a business associate. We've wo

The evening sun cast golden light across the newly renovated Antonetti Orphanage, transforming the old building into something almost magical. Elegant banners bearing the Whitmore Foundation logo hung from the restored Victorian facade, while strings of delicate lights wound through the ancient oak trees lining the entrance.Diana stepped out of the car Marcus had called for them—a sleek black sedan that was far nicer than anything she'd expected from her "modest" husband—and took in the transformed grounds with genuine surprise."I can't believe this is the same place," she murmured, her trained eye noting the professional landscaping, the pristine stonework, the gleaming windows that replaced the boarded-up ones she remembered from years ago. "The Antonetti Orphanage used to be practically condemned. This is... incredible."Marcus stood beside her, his perfectly tailored tuxedo fitting him with the kind of precision that spoke of custom work, not rental. His expression was carefully