BZZZT!The system’s ear-splitting alarm blared through Erick’s earpiece, shattering the silence of the Laurent family’s storage room.“They know Quade is still alive.”The encrypted message struck him like a bullet to the chest. Erick’s blood ran cold, but his face remained perfectly impassive. Five years of flawless undercover work, and the walls were finally beginning to crumble.He deleted the message with one swift tap. The screen went dark. No time for hesitation.Downstairs, the morning ritual had already begun.Breakfast at the Laurent estate was never warm. It was a battlefield dressed in luxury.Leroy sat at the head of the long marble table like a tyrant, newspaper raised like a shield. Evelyn obsessively rearranged her silverware, never satisfied. Michel leaned back lazily, tapping at his phone. Dominique sat by the window, body angled away from Erick as if his presence polluted the air.Erick took the chair the staff secretly called “the reject seat.”Michel looked up with

Erick skipped dinner tonight. It was not like he was hungry anyway.Michel threw a fit over the security cameras, yelling as if somebody had sabotaged his entire life.Meanwhile, Erick helped Mrs. Hollis carry groceries, fixed the kitchen clock, and checked out the dullest book in the library. Every calm thing he did made Michel even angrier.Petty, perhaps.Erick no longer cared.After the day he had endured, he figured he had earned some petty revenge.“You’re difficult to find these days,” Remi said, stepping out from under the oak tree by the garden path, hands jammed in her jacket pockets like she was cold.“Occupational hazard,” Erick said with a shrug.She fell into step beside him without another word.For a long moment, neither spoke.Perfect gardens hid the mansion’s internal chaos.“Michel fired two guards today.”Erick snorted. “Over blurry security footage? Predictable.”Remi released a familiar, tired laugh.Mrs. Hollis must’ve shoved the paper bag at Remi, because sudden

Erick held the board members in their seats; no one dared leave. The room was silent, save for the rustle of financial reports on the mahogany table.Eight of New York’s most powerful men sat stiffly, watching him with the same fear they had tried to hide five years ago.At the head of the table, Erick unwrapped a cheap egg-and-cheese sandwich from a corner store. The paper crackled. He took a slow bite and washed it down with tap water from a paper cup.No one said a word. Nobody even touched the water bottles in front of them.“Marcus,” Erick said.The older billionaire nearly jumped. “Y-Yes… Chairman?”Erick tapped the report. “The two-hundred-million-dollar emergency facility for Laurent Corp. Approve it or kill it?”Marcus swallowed hard. “From a market stability standpoint… the Laurent Group still controls several infrastructure contracts. If they collapse too quickly, there could be…”“They’re thieves,” Erick interrupted calmly. “They don’t deserve a bailout.”Marcus lowered his

Vanessa was sitting on one of the velvet sofas now, one hand pressed against her forehead as she cursed under her breath. Her makeup had smudged, and the confidence she’d walked in with was gone.The music eventually started again, but the party never recovered.People still whispered in clusters. Some pretended to laugh. Others quietly deleted videos from their phones.Erick’s attention drifted toward the back of the lounge.Michel had cornered the young blonde woman near the emergency exit. He held her arm a little too tightly while speaking into her ear.She looked frightened.Erick walked over as if he had nowhere else to be. “Mind if I borrow your seat?” he asked.Without waiting for an answer, he settled onto the sofa beside the young woman.Michel forced a smile. “We’re in the middle of something.”“So am I.”Michel’s smile thinned.After a long second, he released the girl’s arm.“I’ll be right back,” he said to her before walking away.The moment he disappeared into the crowd,

The rain continued drenching Manhattan in silver as black luxury cars lined up outside the Plaza Hotel.Camera flashes exploded nonstop.Politicians. Billionaires. Old-money dynasties. Influencers hanging onto men three times their age. The entrance looked less like a gala and more like a gathering of beautifully dressed predators.Inside the ballroom, crystal chandeliers drowned the crowd in gold light. Champagne flowed endlessly while a string quartet played music nobody truly listened to.Victor Hale stood near the center of the ballroom, surrounded by executives and reporters, enjoying the attention like a king celebrating his own victory.Meanwhile, Erick entered through the restricted service corridor.Several women glanced twice. A few executives frowned, trying to remember where they had seen him before.Dominique spotted him first.Her champagne glass froze halfway to her lips. For a brief second, genuine shock crossed her face. Erick almost enjoyed it.He stood near the ball