Deep within the imposing concrete walls of Stonegate Federal Penitentiary, a young man with a sharp buzz cut sat on the edge of a narrow iron bed. His eyes were half-closed in relaxed contentment while several heavily tattooed inmates hovered around him, massaging his shoulders with frantic eagerness. Among them was a hulking, broad-shouldered bald man with a jagged knife scar running down his cheek. The terrifying giant flashed a fawning, almost goofy smile as he spoke."Boss Curry, you're really getting out this afternoon. Man, I hate to see you go," the scarred giant said, nervously rubbing his massive hands together. "Look, if things get tough out there and you can't find a decent job, just come to The Draven Clan. Tell the boys you're my big brother. I swear on my life, they'll serve you like you're their own grandfather.""Get lost," Curry Pitt shot back. He casually raised a hand and slapped the back of the giant's bald head. "Can't you wish me some actual luck instead of expec

"Who was that at the door?" In the spacious living room, Belmont Turner sat at the heavy mahogany table, casually flipping through the morning newspaper while taking a slow sip of tea."Just some lunatic," the maid replied dismissively. "He kept rambling about how the Elder Patriarch sent him to find the young miss. I already told him to get lost.""What did you just say?" Belmont Turner's hand violently trembled. The delicate porcelain teacup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the expensive marble floor with a sharp crash."Sir! What's wrong?" the maid jumped back, startled by the sudden outburst."Quickly, invite him in!" Belmont roared, his face draining of color. "You useless fool, you can't even receive a guest properly!"Without waiting for her to move, he grabbed his coat, throwing it over his shoulders as he rushed toward the entryway. He yanked the heavy front door open. When his eyes landed on the young man standing outside, his frantic expression instantly melted

Without skipping a beat, Celeste Vale spun on her designer heels and practically sprinted toward the dusty storage room at the back of the sprawling house. Moments later, she emerged triumphantly clutching the worn, rolled-up parchment that Curry had presented just a short while ago. Neither she nor her husband had believed for a single second that a newly released convict could afford a genuine historical masterpiece. To them, it was undeniably a worthless forgery, which was exactly why it had been unceremoniously tossed into the dark junk room the moment he had handed it over.Holding both scrolls in her hands, she unfurled them side by side on the massive mahogany coffee table.Looking down at the two pieces of art, Callum let out a harsh, utterly dismissive laugh. He crossed his arms over his expensive tailored suit, his chin raised in pure arrogance."Well, the situation is incredibly obvious now," Callum declared, his voice dripping with condescension. "There are two paintings c

In that single moment, every trace of composure drained from Alfred Parsons' face. His polished demeanor cracked, replaced by something raw and urgent. He straightened in his seat, the leather creaking beneath him, studying Curry with an intensity that hadn't been there seconds ago. His fingers, which had been loosely wrapped around his teacup, now pressed white against the porcelain.Because the young man was right.The Parsons hereditary affliction had haunted his bloodline for generations. It began with his great-grandfather, a creeping rot no physician of that era could name, let alone cure. Back then, medicine was crude. Those who fell ill simply waited to die, confined to darkened rooms while their families watched helplessly. Generation after generation inherited the same fate, the same slow deterioration, the same quiet funerals held too soon.Alfred had believed modern medicine would be different. He'd poured money into consultations across every major city,

The bodyguards rolled their shoulders and closed in on Curry, forming a loose semicircle around him."On your knees," one of them barked, jabbing a thick finger toward Curry's face. The man was built like a refrigerator, broad-shouldered brutes with necks wider than most people's thighs. "Apologize to our boss. Now."Curry's eyes narrowed to slits. His voice came out flat, almost bored. "Get lost.""I'll kill you!" The bodyguard launched forward, fist already swinging in a wide arc aimed at Curry's jaw. The punch carried real weight behind it, the kind that could crack bone."Don't!" Alfred's shout came a beat too late, swallowed by the rush of displaced air as the fist hurtled forward.What happened next lasted less than a second.Curry shifted his weight, slid half a step to the side, and drove his foot into the bodyguard's midsection with enough force to lift the man clean off the ground. The bodyguard spun through the air like a ragdoll caught in a