The Calloway estate's dining room looked different from usual.Not in size—it had always been large, with a long mahogany table that could seat twelve and a ceiling high enough to make ordinary conversation sound more commanding than it had any right to be.But tonight there was an added layer—something that came from the way the staff moved, from the smell of candles already lit along the length of the table, from the clean white tablecloth stretched out without a single fold out of place.The head of staff stood at the end of the table, inspecting the place settings with the attention of someone who understood that details were everything and nothing could be overlooked.Salad fork to the left, outside the dinner fork. Steak knife to the right. Soup spoon at the outermost edge. Wine glasses re-polished before being placed—two types, one for red, one for white, both from the crystal collection that didn't come out for ordinary dinners.In the kitchen, two chefs worked in a rhythm tha

The male server moved without a sound.His hands reached for the serving spoon with a precise movement—not rushed, not slow, exactly as trained. The lobster bisque dome was lifted in one motion, releasing a thin curl of steam and the scent of butter and cream that had been coaxed along patiently for hours.The portion was taken at a predetermined size. Not too little to look stingy, not too much to look unrefined. The serving spoon moved from the bowl to Paul's plate in a clean arc, set exactly in the center, with one large prawn curled on top of the golden cream and finely cut parsley scattered across it.The server stepped back one pace, returning to his ready position, hands behind his back.Paul looked at his plate.The food was right there in front of him. The largest prawn he had seen in his life, sitting in a sauce whose smell made his stomach absolutely clear about what it wanted.He had been holding off hunger this whole time.He had stopped caring about the rules, the looks,

Paul was no longer part of this conversation. Literally. The man was sitting half-slumped in his chair with his head tilted slightly back, eyes closed, one hand still holding a fork that was no longer going anywhere. His breathing was steady. Not asleep, but not fully conscious in any way that was useful for a formal dinner. Norman looked at him briefly. He could tell the dinner no longer needed to continue, then shifted his gaze to Charles. One nod. Brief. Nothing more was needed. Charles had already been looking at Norman for the past few seconds—waiting, the way someone does when they know the signal is coming and have already prepared to respond to it. He set his napkin on the table. Stood from his chair without rushing, the way a man moves when he's accustomed to leaving a room and not leaving room to be debated about it. "I've had enough." The words were directed at nothing in particular. Not at Lily, not at Paul who could no longer hear anything clearly, not at Norman.

Nobody moved.Six people standing against one, and that one had just sent their friend flying onto the asphalt with a single punch—without looking like he'd put in much effort, without his expression changing at all, like someone who had just cracked open a can of soda.Felix said he was weak.Felix said this would be easy.But the truth was... this guy was strong.Their eyes drifted to the friend still curled up on the ground, crying and clutching his nose. Then back to Norman standing there, hands relaxed at his sides, waiting."You just going to stand there like a bunch of cowards?" Norman looked at them one by one, his voice flat. "Come on then."Felix swallowed.But he couldn't back down now. Not in front of his crew. Not after everything he'd just said."Arrogant bastard!" His voice came out louder than he planned, covering up the surprise he refused to show. "You got lucky! Dropping one person doesn't prove a damn thing!"He turned to his remaining crew—the five still standing.

The BMW glided slowly down the road toward Grand Corholt Tower. Norman let out one breath. Not from exhaustion—more the way someone exhales after closing out a minor piece of business and is already ready to move on to the next thing. Felix and his crew weren't a real threat. But still—back at that dark corner, seven baseball bats swinging at the same time toward one person. That wasn't a situation most people could take lightly. But Norman wasn't most people. At least, not anymore. In his previous life, at thirty-two, Norman had achieved something many people only dreamed of. His name made it onto the list of the hundred wealthiest people in the country. And with that wealth came everything that accompanied it. Not just respect and connections. But threats too. People who had their eyes on his position. Business partners who smiled across the negotiating table while already preparing a knife behind his back. Even a few incidents that couldn't be called anything other t