Jane didn't just want Joyce to crumble, she wanted to see her fold slowly and break slowly, feeling pains and depression she faced when everyone always chose her over her.The satisfaction. She shook her head in silent protest, disengaging from Gerald gently."I have a better plan. Trust me." She said, her voice firm and assuring. "She thinks she's smart. She gave everything to that kid to protect what she had, but she'd just use her own hands to dig her grave and that gives us the upper hand to strike.""And we'll bury her inside." Gerald grinned. An ugly thing with no slightest humour. He was never with his ex-wife for whatever affection that she'd shown him. He waited for half a decade to legally have everything she built but unfortunately for him, Joyce caught him. He initiated a divorce to legally get half of everything she owned, unaware of her discovery. Joyce outplayed his plan, but he's not stepping down till he had what he wanted. He's ready to step back into the game to

"Well. Well. Well." The voice came intentionally dragged. The air surrounding Rowan instantaneously reeked of Cologne and arrogance and something more devastating. "Surprisingly, my step brother is still.... breathing. How did he survive?" He chuckled, glancing at Annabelle. His hands stayed in his pocket, smirked so Sharp it could tear through silk and people like Rowan that was vulnerable. As supposed.Rowan didn't look up. He just kept scrolling on his phone casually, ignoring their presence as though resistance would make Jack leave even though he knew him better— if troublemaker was a name, he should've beared it.Beside him, Anabelle was standing, collecting data silently, her eyes picking up information from his ex who should be rotting away somewhere under the bridge. But he sat there, in a place she would have never imagined him to be even if it was in her dream, wearing an outfit that probably cost more than everything she donned, scrolling on a phone that made her breath

GERALD THREATENED. HE KNOWS ABOUT ROWAN AND THE ASSET TRANSFER. KEEP HIM UNDER WATCH.A message from Joyce Lang.Knox's stomach chest compressed.Phone in his hand. Finger hovering on contact that would start a war and save a company or bury the new doubt sprouting in his mind.And Perhaps if Rowan's analysis came back wrong.....but curiosity had erased the conclusion that the investigation stamped as casualties— the sinking ships two years ago could have been authentic.Rowan wanted cooperation and he was giving it, bypassing Mrs. Lang's order to keep him safe away from destructive personnel marriage war with ex-husband and his threat.His finger moved with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this before.Private investigators that could rattle secret off plain sheet. Rowan wanted every proof and security footage reviewed in secret.The phone pressed to his ear, each sound dragging him towards manipulation that had been buried with time and lost."I need you to do a job.

Even after Jack left, leaving the impression that Annabelle held on to— that Rowan was being loud and showing off— he was still the same young man who's life was approximate to zero.A dreamer who was faking comfortable living to rub it on their faces.She sat down now, wiping off make-up that could have brightened her morning but ended up getting brighter than her entire day.Her stomach grumbled and she walked to the kitchen to prepare paste, leaning against the counter while the pasta was cooking in the pot.She'd never stepped into the kitchen if not for anything but to cook? Rowan had been the one to take care of it, maneuvering the kitchen efficiently like it belonged to him to prepare something for her. She found herself lost, smiling despite everything without even realizing it.The memories merged with her thoughts.During the time she was down with fever, she got used to the smell of his food, he was always there, bringing medications and preparing dishes like a professiona

Dr. Daniel Lawson the dean of medicine faculty, a man in his early fifty flecks of grey combed back with dark recessing hair.A table occupied with files and books sat at his front, computer opened, finger flying across keys reading with full-rimmed glasses.He'd survived long in the Educational strata to read failure without having to probe deeper, experience that made him learn student's horseplay and it is impossible he'd be surprised by any discussion brought to his table.A knock came on the door and the door opened once.Dr. Daniel Lawson paused mid-work, raised his head to see a young man walking, hair tangled, sweats beading, he sat straighter in his chair, adjusted his glasses to have a proper view as though he was assessing sanity which of course he was.Jack Morris."Good morning, Sir." He stepped in, door clicked shut behind him."How may I help you? Are you a student of this institution?""Yes, sir. Jack Morris. " Jack said, desperation wearing a second skin on his face