Twenty million.Arthur stared at the number. His lips moved but no sound came out.Twenty. Million. Dollars."If this is a joke," he said, his voice cracking, "if this is some sick, twisted joke, I swear to God I will—"He couldn't get the words out. An image had flashed in his mind - his mother lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and machines.Just last week, she'd given him a weak smile and whispered, "Don't worry about me, baby" - a moment that was still etched in his memory.The thought of her, fragile and unwell, was all he could see, and it had left him speechless.His finger hovered over the glowing [ACCEPT] button."...Please," he breathed. " Please be real."He pressed it.For one second, nothing happened.Then his phone buzzed.It was his phone, with the cracked screen he'd been putting up with for years. And on that battered screen, he saw a very real and very physical message - a bank notification, staring him right in the face.He looked down.[FIRST NATIONAL BAN

Julian's jaw dropped in shock. His eyes darted back and forth, first locking onto the guards, then shifting to Arthur, before snapping back to the guards again, as if searching for some kind of explanation or reassurance."What did you just call him?"Nobody answered.The second guard moved forward, his hand closing around Julian's arm like a vice.Julian jerked his arm away, his eyes blazing with anger. "Take your hands off me," he spat. "You have no idea who my father is, or what I'm capable of. I'll make sure each and every one of you pays for this."His gaze locked onto Arthur, his voice dripping with venom. "You think this is some kind of joke, don't you? You think you've somehow come out on top?"Arthur moved in, his face inches from Julian's, so close that no one else could make out what he was about to say."You have six hours to get your father out of this hospital." His voice was soft. Almost kind. " Because after that, I’m putting my mother there and your father on the stre

"Where's your money now, huh?" Julian towered over the broken phone, his chest rising and falling heavily, the glass shards crunching beneath his foot. A wide grin spread across his face as he threw his arms out to the sides.His confidence was now rising and his determination to humiliate Arthur was shining like the bright sun in the sky with no clouds in sight to diminish its glory. "No phone, no tricks, no magic," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're just a guy in a wet jacket now." He cocked his head to one side, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Just a beggar, relying on the charity of others."He relished each and every insult that he was unleashing upon the young bloke because this was his time to paint him in a negative light. The word was laced with disdain, and Julian's smile grew even wider as he savored the moment.This was all he had been preparing for all this while and he finally got what he was searching for a perfect weapon to completely annihi

After accepting the system's mission, Arthur couldn't help but stare at the screen before him. The penalty for failing that mission was clear. He'd lose the system forever.‘My life would go back to how it was…’ he muttered inwardly.This wasn't something he was ready to risk… Not after getting a chance at a better future. He decided to complete the mission at every cost. It didn't matter if he died trying.He stared at the objective and slowly shook his head. ‘I should make Julian Thorne’s life a living hell?’He clenched his fists. Despite hating the man with all his heart, he knew there was nothing he could do. Julian Thorne was currently leagues above him. Even though he wanted to bring him down, that wasn't his priority. His priority was saving his sick mother. That brought him to the second sub-objective: rescuing her.He touched the screen before him. He believed he'd done this before, but it didn't matter. As expected, his hand went through. However, when he tapped on the scre

Six black SUVs cut through the sleeping city like a knife through silk.Arthur sat in the lead vehicle, still in his damp jacket, flanked by two hundred million dollars' worth of private security. Marcus sat beside him, jaw set, a tablet on his knee showing the gray building's floor plan."Two men at the loading dock," Marcus said. "Two inside. All four are Ironclad — which means, as of tonight, all four of them work for you. They just don't know it yet.""Then let's introduce ourselves."The convoy rolled into the loading dock at 2:14 a.m.The two guards outside straightened, hands drifting toward their belts — then froze as thirty men in identical uniforms poured out of the SUVs. Their own uniforms.Marcus stepped forward and held up his phone. On the screen: a company-wide memo, sent forty minutes ago, signed by Gregor Malin himself.EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY: IRONCLAD PRIVATE SECURITY IS UNDER NEW OWNERSHIP. ALL PERSONNEL REPORT TO ARTHUR VANCE. ALL OFF-BOOK DETAILS ARE TERMINATED. AN