Connor sat quietly in the dim sitting room, his eyes fixed on the Samsung plasma TV mounted on the wall. The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the silence as the evening news played. He barely paid attention, until something caught his ear. “…and today marks a major milestone for De Clara Grande, one of Midland City’s most luxurious hotels…” Connor’s body stiffened. On the screen, Clara appeared—elegant, radiant, smiling as flashes from cameras lit up her face. She stood in front of a grand entrance decorated with gold ribbons and towering floral arrangements. Behind her, the name De Clara Grande gleamed in bold, expensive lettering. Connor leaned forward slowly, his brows tightening. “She… didn’t tell me?” he muttered under his breath. The female news broadcaster continued speaking, praising the success of the hotel, the expansion, and the elite guests in attendance. Connor’s grip tightened around the remote. “I’m her husband,” he whispered, disbelief creeping

He stared at his Samsung phone, his fingers tightening slightly around it. The caller ID showed a name he hadn’t seen for years. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then his lips parted slowly. “…Martin?” he murmured under his breath. The name brought back memories instantly. A boy in his mid-teens—always wearing glasses, with neatly kept black hair and a sharp presence, just as he remembered him from his childhood. Connor answered the call. “Martin Davis?” he said, his voice steady but filled with surprise. “It’s been a while. Interesting that you remembered me today.” There was a brief pause on the other end. Then a calm, respectful voice came through. “Young Master Connor Wood.” Connor’s brows tightened slightly. “What did you just call me?” he asked in disbelief. “I was ordered to contact you immediately,” Martin replied, his voice firm but respectful. Connor sat up a little, his expression turning serious. “Ordered? By who?” Another short silence. “Mas

He stepped through the revolving glass doors of Millennium Real Estate, and the cool air of the lobby hit his face like a memory he had tried to forget. The building still looked the same—towering marble floors, gold-trimmed reception desk, and crystal lights hanging like quiet statements of power. Years ago, he had walked here as a respected billionaire investor. Today, he came in with a worn file and a taxi receipt folded in his pocket. A receptionist looked up and nodded politely. “Good morning, sir. Can I help you?” Connor gave a small nod. “I’m here for the roundtable interview.” She checked her list quickly. “Right… top floor conference room. They’re expecting you.” As he walked across the lobby, a few employees glanced at him. Some nodded in greeting, unsure if they recognized him. Connor returned a calm, controlled wave, then moved toward the elevator. His steps were steady, but his mind remained sharp. Inside the elevator, one of the staff whispered to another, “

The entire compound was dressed in gold and red. Ribbons stretched across pillars, wrapped around the gates, and hung in careful loops along the driveway. Lantern-like decorations swayed gently in the morning breeze, catching the sunlight and casting a warm glow across the polished marble floor. For a brief moment, Connor just stood there, his suitcase in hand. “What… is all this?” he muttered under his breath. Behind him, footsteps echoed. “Why are you standing there?” Clara’s voice came, sharp and impatient. Connor turned slightly. Clara, Mrs. Sam, and Mason stood at the entrance, watching him like he was something they wanted gone as soon as possible. Connor gave a small nod. “Nothing. I was just leaving.” Mrs. Sam scoffed. “You’ve overstayed already. Hurry up and disappear.” Connor looked at them one last time. His gaze lingered for a second longer on Clara, but his expression didn’t change. “Goodbye,” he said calmly. Clara folded her arms. “Just go.” He tu

The officer’s voice cut through the tense air as he stared directly at Connor. “Sir,” he repeated firmly, “how did you acquire this card?” Connor stood still for a moment, calm and unshaken. His expression did not change as every eye in the terminal locked onto him. Then he replied evenly. “I got it from the airport authorities,” Connor said. “I truly earned it.” A short silence followed. Then Alex Jefferson stepped forward immediately, his voice sharp and loud. “That’s a lie!” Alex snapped. “Do you hear yourself? Connor Wood, earned something? This man is a fraud!” Mrs. White quickly joined in, her face twisted in anger. “He is a jobless nobody!” she shouted. “Don’t be fooled by his acting! He probably printed that card himself!” Murmurs spread through the crowd again. Some passengers shook their heads while others whispered insults. “Pathetic…” “So he’s still pretending to be important…” Connor said nothing. His silence only made them more irritated. The offi