Vincent didn't sleep that night.He sat at the dining table, the massive folder spread before him, reading until his eyes burned. Page after page. Name after name. The De Luca empire was vast—far vaster than he'd ever imagined.Hospitals. Thirty-seven of them across the country. Research facilities. Twelve, each specializing in different fields. Investments. Pharmaceutical companies, medical device manufacturers, biotech startups. And beneath it all, a web of connections—board members, executives, allies, rivals.Vincent's head throbbed. He rubbed his temples and kept reading.He learned about his grandfather's history. Alessandro De Luca had built the empire from nothing. Immigrant roots. A small clinic that grew into a network. He'd fought rivals, weathered scandals, and outlasted everyone who tried to tear him down.And now it was all Vincent's.He thought about his mother. The fragile woman who'd died young. The seamstress who'd struggled to put food on the table. The woman who'd

The gala continued without Vincent.Inside the ballroom, the whispers had died down, but the tension lingered. Marcus stood near the bar, his face flushed with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. Amelia hovered beside him, her expression troubled."Marcus, you need to calm down," she said quietly. "People are staring.""Let them stare." Marcus's voice was sharp. "Did you see him? Did you see the way he looked at me?"Amelia had seen. She'd seen everything. The coldness in Vincent's eyes. The stillness of his posture. The way he'd spoken—quiet, measured, dangerous.He hadn't looked like the broken man she'd divorced. He'd looked like someone else entirely."I don't understand," Amelia murmured. "How did he get in here? How does he know Henrietta Sterling?"Marcus's jaw tightened. "He saved her grandson. That's how. She's probably just being polite.""Polite?" Amelia shook her head. "Marcus, she was talking to him like he was important. Like she respected him.""She doesn't respect

Harrison Blackwood returned to his estate in a daze.He'd been dismissed. Treated like a beggar. Told that his hospital was failing and his son was incompetent. The masked man had looked at him with cold, empty eyes and spoken about Marcus like he knew him. Like he'd watched him fail firsthand.And the worst part? The masked man was right.Harrison poured himself a glass of whiskey and sank into his chair. His hands were trembling. His mind was racing. He'd built his entire life on the Blackwood name. The hospital. The reputation. The legacy. And now it was all crumbling.Who was that man? Why did he look familiar?He replayed the conversation in his head. The cold eyes. The measured voice. The way he'd spoken about Marcus like he knew his weaknesses. Like he'd seen through every lie.Harrison's jaw tightened. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones."Brenda!" he called out. "Get in here!"Brenda appeared in the doorway, her expression sharp. She was dressed in her usual ex