Caelan didn't step forward. He didn't need to.He simply stood where he was, looking at Damien from the same distance, his hands resting at his sides and his expression devoid of even the slightest trace of mercy."What do you think," he said quietly, almost casually, "would be the appropriate way for me to beat you?"Damien's knees hit the floor.Not slowly.Not in a way that preserved what little dignity he had left.They slammed down immediately, hard and ungracefully, as though his body had made the decision before his mind had a chance to argue."Young Master, please spare me."Every layer of authority had vanished from his voice.What remained was the voice of a man who understood exactly where he stood."I was wrong. I've lost my mind. I never should have ordered them to attack you. Please—I can compensate you for everything. Whatever you want, I'll provide it. Just don't hurt me. I have—""Enough."A single word from Caelan cut him off."You tried to kill me."Caelan looked do

Damien walked toward Caelan like a man who had run out of alternatives. Every step revealed the condition of his left arm, held rigidly against his side, completely motionless. Any movement would only reignite the agony he had already learned was far beyond his tolerance.With his right hand, he offered the black duffel bag.Caelan accepted it without looking inside, without counting the contents, and without showing the slightest reaction to the fact that it contained thirty-five million dollars. The way he took it was no different from accepting an ordinary shopping bag.Then he turned his gaze to Preston.“Come with me.”Preston nodded immediately. No words. The gesture alone showed that this night had already dragged on long enough, and whatever he wanted to say could wait until they were outside.They walked out.Behind them, Black Viper Club was left with a scene no one would be cleaning up anytime soon—eight men sprawled across the floor in various states of misery, overturned

Gerard quickly scanned around Caelan, to the left, to the right, toward the car whose engine was still running, like someone convinced there was something his eyes had missed.But what he was looking for wasn't there.No Harrison."Where's Harrison?" His tone didn't hide his displeasure. "Why are you the only one here?"Caelan exhaled.This man.Back then, he had treated Gerard Hale with a respect never asked to be returned, bringing something every visit, listening to long lectures about how he needed to increase his income, swallowing all the comments about how lucky he was to have the beautiful and extraordinary Serena. He had done all of that patiently.And this was what stood in front of him now."Harrison isn't here." His voice came out flat. "I'm the one who brought Preston back. Alone."The passenger door opened.Preston stepped out with a black bag in his right hand, not letting go even when both feet were on the ground. He ran toward his parents, and Margaret who had already

The news anchor displayed three photos side by side on screen, Victor Ashford, Rosalind Crest, and Edmond Whitaker. Names that even Gerard, with all his limited social circles, recognized the weight of."—Victor Ashford, patriarch of the Ashford family, was saved from a critical condition in just minutes by a technique never previously documented. Rosalind Crest, matriarch of the Crest family, whose condition had been deemed hopeless by several prior physicians, is reported to have fully recovered after a single visit. And most strikingly: Edmond Whitaker—a conglomerate who appears on the list of the ten most financially influential individuals in this nation—successfully underwent a surgery declared impossible by the entire medical team at Valdecroft Medical Institute in Arvenmore. A surgery completed by Doctor Voss in a single session, while Doctor Harland Vance, an internationally renowned hepatological surgery specialist, witnessed it firsthand and described what happened as—"A s

Three hours earlier.Eight in the evening, Velmont Airfield Private, a small runway on the eastern edge of the city that didn't appear on commercial maps but had been used long enough by people who didn't need to pass through a public terminal to travel.Edvard Sterne stepped out of his car faster than he usually did. Behind him, Cedric followed. Both moving in a way rarely seen from a family long accustomed to their own circumstances.The runway lights were already on. At the end of the strip, a private jet was slowly turning after landing, its engines still humming quietly."They arrived earlier than scheduled," said Edvard quietly, more to himself.Cedric didn't answer. His eyes were already on the aircraft door.Both stood at the edge of the runway as the plane's door opened and the stairs descended. The moment the first person began coming down, Edvard and Cedric bowed simultaneously, deep, in a way that needed no thought because it had become an automatic response whenever this