The private jet touched down and rolled to a slow stop on the runway. Outside, the airport stood silent. No boarding calls, no engines roaring in the distance. Every commercial flight had been grounded for the day, every worker sent home early, all because one man was coming back to the city.Rows of armed men stood in tight formation, and the moment the jet's door opened, they dropped their heads low, bowing as one body."Hail the God of War!"Their voices struck the air like thunder, echoing off the empty terminal walls.He was the God of War of this city, the youngest one it had ever known. Men spoke his name in fear before they spoke it in respect; he had broken the strongest battalions of forty countries and never once tasted defeat. He had torn down empires with his own hands, then rebuilt them and placed his most loyal men at the head of each one. Every regiment under his command carried more than seven hundred soldiers, and each of those regiments was feared enough that no e

Sarah stood frozen for a second, her eyes wide with disbelief. Then rage broke through, and her voice exploded into the room.She hadn't even noticed him standing there. She had been too consumed with the wedding, too dazzled by the promise of the Clinton family's name attached to hers, the kind of alliance that could push the Simpsons up into the second tier of the city's great families. She had rushed in without a second glance at who was standing beside her daughter.But Alfred, asking them to cancel the wedding? Sarah's head snapped toward him as if she were seeing him for the first time. "Alfred!""How did you get in here?" Sarah shrieked. "Who let you into this building? Security! Someone get security! No one invited you here. Get out!”Alfred didn't shake; he said again. “Cancel the wedding.” His voice was firm and unbearable."What in God's name are you talking about? Cancel the wedding? Have you lost your mind, Alfred?" She threw her hands up, pacing in a tight circle. "Ever

Angela looked at him after they had left the hall. Although she felt a pang of doubt in his words about the money, she couldn't hide the excitement in her heart that she wouldn't be getting married to the Clinton heir.She brought him straight to the house where she lived. After what happened years back, her family considered her a shame and took everything from her, including her position in the company.The only thing left for her was her son, whom she had prayed would be alright.And at that moment her phone buzzed, another call from the hospital. She immediately answered."Please, tell me he is alright."The doctor who had been rude earlier spoke with fear and respect in his voice. "Hello, ma'am.”Angela wasn't interested because she wanted to know the condition of her son. "How is my son? Please say something.""Your son is fine. As we speak, he has been taken to a private ward where he is being taken care of by the best nurses."A notification popped on her screen the moment the

Alfred cut him off, his voice dropping, cold enough to send a shiver down Gerald's spine. "Or what? Stop acting like a spoiled brat. This document is mine, not your father's."Gerald masked his fear behind gritted teeth. "You're getting stubborn again. Don't forget what happened last time; I'll have you arrested for theft, and this time I'll make sure you rot in the worst prison in the world."Angela tugged gently at Alfred's sleeve, her voice barely a whisper. "Please. Let's just go. We'll find another way to get the money; this isn't worth it."Alfred nodded slowly and turned to leave, Angela close behind him. Gerald's voice chased them across the room."Look at that! Dragged out by a woman! I thought you were supposed to be brave, Alfred. What happened to the great warrior everyone used to talk about? Stand and fight if you're really a man!" He laughed, loud and mocking. "I'm calling my father right now. He's coming after you, and this time there won't be anywhere left for you to h

Julius's legs gave out; he dropped to his knees the moment he saw the president walk through the door, his cane tapping against the marble floor like a countdown. Jonathan Adams was in his fifties, hair grey at the temples, his eyes sharp behind thick glasses that had seen too much and forgiven too little. Two bodyguards flanked him, silent and massive, and every staff member in the hall lowered their heads the second his gaze swept past them."Mr. Adams, thank God you're here." Julius pressed his handkerchief to his nose, blood soaking through the white cloth. He pointed a shaking finger at Alfred. "This man attacked me; he walked in demanding a hundred thousand dollar loan, and when I refused because of his record, he lost his mind. He beat me and Gerald half to death. If the police hadn't come, he would have killed us."Gerald staggered to his feet, cradling his hand against his chest. "He broke my fingers, Mr. Adams. Look at me. This man is a criminal; he needs to be locked up fo