Morning light entered the Presidential Suite differently now. Since Alex taped the torn birth certificate on the fridge, nobody walked past it without stopping.GRACE ALEX STERLINGMOTHER: SARAH STERLINGBABY 3.Sarah stood there at 6am, tea cold in her hand. She had been standing for twenty minutes.Grace woke up on the couch. She didn't say good morning. She looked at Sarah's back, then at the paper. Her small wrist monitor, the one Victoria bought from the pharmacy, beeped softly.Alex came out of the bedroom, one bedroom apartment habits still in him - checking if all six kids were breathing before anything else. Lily, curled on the rug with a book. Emma, and Chloe tangled together on one mat. Tom mouth open. Ben, youngest, hugging a pillow bigger than him. Grace on the couch alone.He counted: one, two, three, four, five, six. Six kids on holiday with dad after a long school period with grandma. He saw Grace's monitor. It read 95."Yesterday you were 500," he said quietly, so he

The rain beat the street like small stones.Victoria stood with Emma, 7, asleep on her back. Emma's weight made Victoria lean forward. In one hand, bag with five cakes from Episode 22 circle - Lily 9 eldest had said "Grandma, take one for road." Victoria had laughed then. Not now.Black car. No plate. Wipers fast. Three men came down, umbrellas black, shoes black, faces hidden by rain.One man, tallest, said, "Madam Victoria. Johnson Sr. wants to talk."Victoria held Emma tighter. "My husband built this building. You cannot take me."Second man, "Your husband built two elevators. One for family, one for strangers. You used family elevator too much."Emma woke up, small voice, "Grandma?"Victoria whispered, "Close eyes, baby."Third man opened car door.Victoria didn't scream. She knew screaming in rain at midnight in Onitsha, no one hears. She knew if she fought, Emma falls. She stepped into car, Emma on her back, five cakes bag still in hand.Car moved, slow, then fast, splashing wat

Alex stepped out of the bathroom, steam curling off his skin and into the chill air of the apartment. His hair was still dripping water down the back of his neck, soaking the collar of his freshly pulled-on shirt. The apartment was dead quiet, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing drifting from the bed where his four children were still fast asleep except for Grace who watched him. He didn't have a spare second to dry off. Glancing down at the clock, the directions of the clock's hands hit him like a physical blow. 8:15 AM. No, no, no. He was supposed to be at the office by 7:30 sharp. Today wasn't just another routine day at the firm—it was the day of the Johnson deal. Boss Davis had spent the last three weeks screaming at the entire department about how crucial the Johnson family was to the company’s future. They were legendary movers and shakers in the financial sector, the kind of old-money royalty that didn't give second chances. Missing this meeting wasn't just a mark on

Johnson Sr. lingered for a fraction of a second, his sharp, storm-gray eyes searching Alex’s calm face with an intense, calculating scrutiny. The silence between them was heavy, pregnant with unsaid questions, until the old titan simply gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. Turning smoothly on his heel, his tailored wool coat sweeping around his ankles, he strode away. His private security detail fell into step behind him like a wall of dark suits, the heavy thud of their polished leather shoes echoing down the marble corridor until the private elevator doors chimed and sealed them off from the rooftop terrace. At the entrance of the dining room, time seemed to stand still for Boss Davis, Sarah, and Mark. They remained utterly frozen, pinned to the doorway like statues of stunned disbelief. The air in the luxury restaurant was thick with the scent of roasted truffles, expensive wine, and sea breeze, but for the three of them, it might as well have been pure ice. They stared at Ale

The morning sunlight sliced through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the Presidential Suite, casting a warm golden hue across the sprawling silk rugs. Alex opened his eyes, the heavy silence of the luxury room settling over him. On the nightstand, his phone lit up, reflecting the exact numbers sitting in his high-yield account: $1,690,167.73.He sat up, his mind sharp. Above his vision, the translucent system interface pulsed with a gentle, persistent hum:> [CURRENT MISSION: START SEARCH FOR VICTORIA]> [STATUS: ACTIVE — 8:00 AM]It was time.Last night’s strategy session had carved three absolute rules into his mind: * Find Victoria: The rich peer whose broken Cashback System could only be restored by true love, his future wife. * Adopt Davis’s Daughter: Save the young girl from the impending collapse of Davis's corrupt empire. * Avoid the Johnsons: Maintain total radio silence until his capital grew large enough to buy out their entire conglomerate.The memory of the dream flashed