9 - DNA III
Author: CYRA MCKENZIE
last update2026-08-09 02:20:20

He walked toward the massive en-suite bathroom, turning on the brass faucet to splash freezing water onto his face.

He stared at his reflection in the gilded mirror, wiping the water from his chin.

The bruises from the Cross estate were already starting to fade into dull yellow marks.

He found a fresh set of clothes laid out neatly on a velvet armchair near the wardrobe.

The dark, tailored dress shirt and charcoal slacks fit him perfectly, a massive upgrade from his faded prison jacket.

He slip
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  • 14 - MANDATE III

    Henry leaned back in his chair, a smug satisfaction radiating from his posture.The question was a massive, complex web of economic variables designed to publicly humiliate anyone who hadn't spent decades studying global trade.Silvan didn't even blink.He simply accessed the countless hours he had spent analyzing market fluctuations with Leon Richter in the prison yard."You are assuming the deficit is a liability," Silvan replied, his tone razor-sharp."The new tariffs only penalize direct-to-consumer freight passing through the primary canals."The correspondent frowned, clearly confused by the immediate pushback."By aggressively restructuring our offshore holding buffers into sovereign subsidiary trusts, we legally bypass the tariff penalty altogether," Silvan explained.He leaned closer to the microphone, his dark eyes locking onto the reporter with unwavering intensity."Furthermore, we immediately initiate a massive short-selling campaign against our primary competitors in the

  • 13 - MANDATE II

    The blinding flash of a hundred camera bulbs illuminated the grand auditorium of the Laurent Conglomerate headquarters.A dull, chaotic roar filled the massive room as reporters from every major global financial network fought for a view of the stage.Silvan stood behind the heavy mahogany podium, looking out over a sea of eager, ruthless faces.He wore a bespoke charcoal suit that Zane had procured for him hours earlier.The tailored fabric fit him perfectly, hiding the lingering bruises he had earned during his unceremonious eviction from the Cross estate.Charles Laurent sat in his wheelchair a few feet to Silvan’s left, projecting a fierce, unyielding authority despite his frail condition.Henry sat on Silvan’s right, wearing a tight, strained smile that didn't reach his dark eyes.The emergency press conference had been called with barely an hour's notice, sending shockwaves through the global markets.Charles leaned forward, adjusting the slender microphone resting on the table

  • 12 - MANDATE I

    Silvan didn't freeze, his body reacting with the lightning-fast reflexes forged during seven years of brutal prison yard brawls.He launched himself out of the heavy dining chair, crossing the distance in a fraction of a second.He slid onto the hardwood floor, catching his mother by the shoulders just before her head struck the ground."Amanda!" Charles shouted, his voice cracking as he gripped the wheels of his chair in a desperate, futile attempt to stand.Henry rushed forward, his polished Italian leather shoes squeaking against the floorboards."Give her space, the shock was too much," Henry ordered, reaching down to grab Silvan’s arm.Silvan batted his uncle's hand away with a sharp, unforgiving slap."Don't touch her," Silvan warned, his voice dropping an octave into a cold, dangerous register.Henry blinked in surprise, taking a slow step back from the sudden hostility.Silvan ignored him, cradling his mother's head against his chest and waiting for her eyes to flutter open.S

  • 11 - FACADE II

    "I just got my grandson back after ten years of mourning, Henry.""I am not sending him to another continent to live with strangers.""It wouldn't be forever, Father," Henry countered smoothly, pouring himself more tea."Just a year or two, until he regains his footing and learns what it truly means to be a Laurent.""We must put his mental health above our own selfish desire to keep him close."Silvan decided to tip the scales, intentionally feeding Henry’s false sense of superiority."Would I have to go to the mountains alone?" Silvan asked, pitching his voice to sound small and frightened.Henry turned to him, his charming smile widening by a fraction of an inch."Of course not, Silvan.""I would personally fly out to visit you every single month to check on your progress.""You would have the best care money can buy, and nobody would ever force you to do anything you didn't want to do."Silvan forced his eyes to well up slightly, staring at his uncle with manufactured, pathetic gr

  • 10 - FACADE I

    Zane Mercer wheeled Charles Laurent into the sunlit dining room just as Henry finished pouring a second cup of tea.Charles looked slightly stronger this morning, wearing a tailored navy smoking jacket over his frail shoulders.Henry immediately stood up from his chair, rushing over to help position the wheelchair at the head of the long mahogany table."I have him, Henry," Zane murmured, smoothly locking the wheels into place on the polished hardwood floor.Henry backed away with a gracious, welcoming smile, returning to his seat directly across from Silvan.Charles ignored his younger son entirely, his cloudy eyes fixing immediately on Silvan with a look of desperate, unwavering reverence."Did you sleep well, my boy?" Charles asked, his voice trembling with a mixture of joy and lingering disbelief.Silvan stared down at his untouched plate of eggs and toast, letting his shoulders slump to project a sense of overwhelming fatigue."I think so," Silvan muttered, keeping his voice quie

  • 9 - DNA III

    He walked toward the massive en-suite bathroom, turning on the brass faucet to splash freezing water onto his face.He stared at his reflection in the gilded mirror, wiping the water from his chin.The bruises from the Cross estate were already starting to fade into dull yellow marks.He found a fresh set of clothes laid out neatly on a velvet armchair near the wardrobe.The dark, tailored dress shirt and charcoal slacks fit him perfectly, a massive upgrade from his faded prison jacket.He slipped his cheap silver pendant over his head, letting the cold metal rest against his chest as a reminder of what he survived.He opened the bedroom door, stepping out into the quiet, expansive hallway.Zane Mercer was waiting a few yards down the corridor, holding a silver tray with a steaming pot of coffee.The old servant turned, offering a polite, deeply respectful nod."Good morning, Silvan," Zane said, setting the tray down on a small mahogany side table."I see Dr. Aris already left.""I to

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