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THE NAME ON THE DOOR
CHAPTER 167— THE NAME ON THE DOORDiana had learned to recognize power by sound.It wasn’t something business school taught, nor a lesson inherited from her father’s endless monologues on leverage and strategy. This knowledge came from experience—from standing in rooms where she had to earn her place twice over. Power announced itself long before it spoke. It moved ahead of people like a current, bending the atmosphere to its will.It was in the sudden hush when she entered a room. The way heels faltered mid-step, conversations died halfway through a sentence, laughter retreated into tight smiles. It was in the recalibration—voices lowering, spines straightening, assistants moving faster as if time itself had accelerated. Phones silenced too quickly. Chairs pulled back too sharply. Respect disguised as efficiency.This morning, the boardroom at Verdict Crown sounded exactly right.The tension hummed, subtle but unmistakable, confirming her presence without ceremony. Diana crossed the
VERDICT CROWN INDUSTRIES
CHAPTER 166 — VERDICT CROWN INDUSTRIESThe garden did not rush him.That was what Kelvin liked most about it. Nothing here demanded immediate answers. The leaves did not curl if he hesitated. The soil did not harden out of impatience. Everything waited. Everything trusted time.Logan, however, did not.“You’re quiet,” Logan said.Kelvin crouched again, fingers brushing the base of a young plant. He loosened the soil gently, as if the roots might bruise under anything rougher. “I’m thinking.”Patrick shifted behind Logan, adjusting his stance so he wouldn’t cast a shadow too close. He knew better than to interrupt moments like this.“You think too much,” Logan replied. “That’s always been your problem.”Kelvin smiled faintly. “I learned that from you too.”Logan’s lips pressed together. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he listened—to the breeze, to the distant hum of the estate waking, to the scrape of Kelvin’s movements in the dirt.“This company,” Logan continued, as if starti
MORNING SOIL
CHAPTER 165 — MORNING SOILKelvin woke before the sun fully decided to rise.The house was still wrapped in that fragile, early-morning hush—when the walls hadn’t yet remembered the noise of the day, when even the clocks seemed hesitant to tick too loudly. Pale light crept through the curtains, thin and cautious, brushing the edges of the room without daring to intrude.He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling.Routine came first. Always.Kelvin rose quietly, feet touching the cold floor with practiced care. He moved through the room like someone who had learned long ago how to exist without disturbing the world around him. The mirror caught him briefly—tousled hair, sharp eyes dulled by sleep, a man who carried too much responsibility in his posture even when no one was watching.He didn’t linger.The hallway was dim as he walked toward the smaller bedroom at the end. He opened the door slowly, as if afraid sound itself might shatter something precious.His daughter slept cu
BAIT ON THE LINE
CHAPTER 164 – BAIT ON THE LINELila’s hands shook so badly that the pen scratched uneven lines across the yellow legal pad. The warehouse was quiet except for the scratch of graphite, the occasional creak of the metal chair when she shifted, and the low hum of the fluorescent bulb overhead. Gravelly and High-Voice had retreated to the shadows near the door, arms folded, watching her like hawks. Kelvin sat on the edge of the folding table, legs crossed, reading through the pages she’d already filled as she handed them over one by one.She wrote everything. Every text message she could remember. The exact date Harry slid the first envelope of cash across a diner table in the booth farthest from the window. The burner phone number he’d made her memorize. The script he’d emailed her—lines about how “that night meant something” and how she’d “always wondered if he felt it too.” She even wrote down the name of the shady lab tech Harry knew, the one who’d swapped the samples for two thousand
TRUTH IN THE DARK
CHAPTER 163 – TRUTH IN THE DARKThe van doors swung open with a metallic groan, and cold air rushed in, carrying the sharp scent of pine and damp earth. Rough hands grabbed Lila’s arms, hauling her out like a sack of grain. Her legs buckled the second her feet hit gravel—she hadn’t stood in what felt like forever—and she stumbled forward, knees scraping as someone shoved her upright.“Walk,” Gravelly barked, his grip bruising on her elbow. High-Voice took the other side, steering her blindly across uneven ground. Crunching leaves, a creak of hinges, then concrete under her sneakers. They were going inside somewhere—a building, isolated from the sounds of it. No traffic, no voices, just distant crickets and her own ragged breathing.Doors slammed behind her. Footsteps echoed in a large space—maybe a warehouse? The hood stayed on, darkness absolute. Her heart jackhammered so hard she felt it in her throat. This was it. They were going to kill her. Dump her body where no one would find i
THE DEVIL ALL ALONG
CHAPTER 162– THE DEVIL ALL ALONGKelvin slammed the door of his beat-up Chevy behind him, the rusty hinges groaning like they were as fed up with life as he was. The neon sign of O’Malley’s Bar flickered above the entrance, casting a sickly red glow on the cracked sidewalk. It was one of those dive spots on the edge of town, the kind where the beer was cheap, the lighting dim, and nobody asked questions. Perfect for a guy like him, nursing a headache and a heartache that wouldn’t quit.He pushed through the heavy wooden door, the stale smell of spilled whiskey and cigarette smoke hitting him like a punch to the gut. The place was half-empty, a few regulars hunched over their drinks at the bar, murmuring low conversations that blended with the crackle of an old jukebox playing some forgotten country tune. Kelvin scanned the room out of habit—old instincts from his days on the force—before sliding onto a stool at the far end. The bartender, a grizzled guy named Lou with a tattoo of a fa
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