The private jet cut smoothly through the calm morning sky, floating above thick white clouds that stretched endlessly like a silent ocean. Connor sat by the window, his gaze steady but distant. The sunlight reflected faintly in his eyes, yet his expression remained unreadable. Everything had changed in a matter of hours. Behind him, Mr. Davis stood respectfully with his hands clasped. “Look ahead, Young Master,” Mr. Davis said in a low voice. “We are approaching Caesaria.” Connor’s eyes shifted slightly. Below the clouds, a massive island slowly came into view, surrounded entirely by the ocean. Grand renaissance structures rose proudly from the land, gleaming under the sun. Ports stretched along the coastline, filled with ships of different sizes. “This…” Connor leaned forward slightly, his brows narrowing. “This is Caesaria?” “Yes,” Mr. Davis replied. “The Island State of Caesaria. The financial center of Numerica.” Connor stared for a moment longer, then spoke again,

Connor stepped closer to the bed, each step heavier than the last, as if the marble floor itself was pulling him back into the past he never escaped. The faint sound of machines filled the room, but all Connor could hear was his own heartbeat growing louder. Steve Wood’s trembling hand remained stretched toward him, waiting. Connor finally stopped beside the bed. His voice came out low and controlled. “I’m here.” The old man’s eyes softened at once. His lips trembled into a weak smile. “Okay, son,” Steve Wood whispered. His voice cracked with exhaustion, but there was relief in it too. Connor swallowed hard. Steve gave a faint, tired breath. “I wasn’t sure… if you still carried the same pains.” He coughed lightly, his chest shaking. “But I see it now… you’ve grown.” Silence filled the space for a moment before Connor spoke again, quieter this time. “You didn’t just cast me aside… you cast her away too. She died without ever knowing this world.” Steve’s eyes dimmed with pa

The knock came sooner than expected, firm but controlled, echoing lightly through the quiet suite. “I’m here, Young Master.” Connor didn’t raise his voice. “Come in.” The door opened, and Mr. Davis stepped inside. His posture was respectful, but his eyes still carried traces of grief from earlier. He closed the door gently behind him and stood still for a moment, waiting. Connor gestured toward the seat across from him. “Sit.” Mr. Davis obeyed without hesitation. The air between them felt heavy, not with tension, but with years that had been lost. Connor leaned back slightly, studying him. “We were childhood friends.” Mr. Davis smiled faintly, the kind of smile that came with memory and pain mixed together. “Yes… we were.” He let out a slow breath. “I really missed you. More than I can explain. When you and Madam Carolyn were forced out… it felt like something important was ripped away from me. The street became quiet, but not peaceful. Just empty.” Connor’s eyes soft

Mr. Davis hesitated for a brief second, then straightened. “Young Master… first of all, their names are Conrad and Gavin.” Connor’s gaze shifted slightly toward him. “Go on.” Mr. Davis nodded. “The first is Conrad. The elder one. Both of them…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “They have always been wayward.” Connor said nothing, but his eyes sharpened. “They're living extravagant lifestyles,” Mr. Davis continued. “Luxury parties, endless spending, and…” He lowered his voice slightly. “Women.” Connor’s expression remained unreadable. “They move across this island state and even neighboring states,” Mr. Davis added. “Using Master Wood’s name as leverage. They approach women—especially daughters of CEOs under the Wood Group—and pressure them.” Connor’s fingers curled slightly at his side. “They make it clear,” Mr. Davis said quietly, “that refusing them could bring consequences. Business consequences.” Connor’s jaw tightened. “They don’t care about boundari

The entire Holyfield Grand Cathedral froze the moment the voices echoed again through its sacred hall. “I said, who the hell are you?”The words were sharp, rude, and completely out of place in a ceremony meant for honor and mourning. Heads turned instantly toward the massive entrance. The atmosphere that had once been heavy with respect turned tense in seconds. Whispers spread across the crowd. “Who dares interrupt this?” someone murmured. Another voice followed, louder and angrier. “Yes! Who allowed strangers into this place?” At the entrance stood two men dressed in dark luxury suits, their faces hardened with arrogance and frustration. One of the dignitaries leaned toward another and whispered, “Isn’t that… Conrad and Gavin? The late Master Wood’s sons?” A second man replied quietly, “Stubborn sons that refused to change.” Security immediately moved in front of them, blocking their path. “This is a restricted ceremony. You are not permitted inside,” one of the gua