The heavy black fountain pen shook violently in Lord Sterling’s wet fingers as he stared down at the written confession resting on the dark desk.The paper seemed to burn his eyes, every printed line exposing twenty years of dirty financial deals, stolen money, and secret betrayals against his own blood.Sign it, or walk out of this room and watch your bank close its doors forever, Christian said, his deep voice carrying a cold, royal weight that left zero room for argument.With tears dripping down his wrinkled cheeks and his heart pounding like a trapped bird, Lord Sterling pressed the pen to the paper. His shaking signature trailed across the bottom line of every single page. He gave up his bank, his family title, and his personal freedom in one painful moment, hoping against hope that his nephew would save him from public ruin.Christian picked up the signed confession, checking every page with a calm, freezing gaze. He slid a crisp, short-term funding document across the desk, gi

The warm gold light from the reading lamp reflected softly off the deep red wine in Christian’s crystal glass.The three masked assassins of the Ghost Blade squad stood frozen in the middle of the bedroom floor, their dark tactical gloves tightening around their suppressed weapons.They were professional killers who had spent years executing targets across foreign battlefields, but right now, the icy blue gaze of the young CEO made their blood run cold.Shoot him, the lead killer hissed under his breath, his voice trembling with sudden, desperate panic. Kill him right now.The mercenary on the left raised his suppressed pistol, his index finger squeezing down on the trigger.Before the firing pin could even strike the bullet, Christian moved. His massive figure blurred through the air like a silent black shadow gliding across the carpet.He did not drop his crystal glass, nor did he spill a single drop of red wine. With a lightning-fast movement, Christian drove his heavy right elbow

The three bloody bodies of the Ghost Blade mercenaries lay motionless on the polished marble floor right at Lord Malakai's feet.Their black tactical masks were torn open, their expensive high-tech gear was shattered, and their faces were covered in dark bruises. The heavy silence that followed the crashing of the wooden doors was terrifying, suffocating every single noble inside the golden ballroom.Lord Malakai stood completely frozen beside the head table, his crystal glass slipping from his trembling hand and smashing onto the floor. The dark red wine splashed over his gold dragon head cane, making it look like fresh blood dripping onto the carpet. His small yellowed eyes bulged out of his head in absolute, blinding horror.He had just raised a toast to Clara's death, bragging about his supreme power to two hundred wealthy guests. Now, the very assassins he paid ten million dollars for were dumped in front of him like bags of rotten meat.From the dark, dusty entrance of the shatt

The three-minute timer began to tick down on the digital screens mounted on the palace walls, every second sounding like a loud hammer hitting a coffin lid.Absolute, frantic chaos exploded through the golden ballroom as two hundred wealthy guests, corrupt judges, and high-ranking bank owners scrambled for the exits, tripping over their own silk robes and knocking over gold chairs in a mad rush to save their lives.Lord Malakai’s eldest son, Julian, stood near the head table with his face twisted into a wild, hysterical mask of pure rage. He could not accept that his family’s eighty-year reign over the capital was ending in a single night. His hands shook violently as he reached under his dark velvet coat, his gloved fingers sliding toward the handle of a hidden silver pistol tucked into his waistband.If we lose everything, then you are coming to hell with us, Julian screamed out, his voice cracking into a high, bloodthirsty shriek as he whipped the silver gun into the light, aiming

The dark green night-vision feed on Director Vance’s tablet flashed with continuous red warning lights. Down at the foggy northern harbor, six massive, black armored warships sat silently in the cold ocean water, their heavy steel hulls cutting through the white waves.Hundreds of heavily armed mercenaries in dark combat suits were already stepping onto the stone docks, setting up heavy gun mounts and securing the private harbor.Before Director Vance could give another security order, every single television screen, radio channel, and official communication line across the capital city was suddenly hacked.A loud, screeching electronic hum filled the air, cutting off the evening news broadcast. A tall, scar-faced man wearing a dark tactical uniform with a crimson ring emblem stepped in front of a live camera feed inside the lead warship. His cold, yellow eyes stared straight through the screen, his harsh voice echoing through thousands of homes and government buildings simultaneously