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2025-07-31 19:53:38

Maestro winced as the antiseptic stung his arm, but he didn’t complain. The Schwarzenger estate doctors worked swiftly, treating the gunshot wound with utmost precision.

The medical bay inside Schwarzenger Manor was far from ordinary—it rivaled the top-tier suites of private hospitals across the country.

White walls gleamed under soft golden lighting, the air filtered and faintly scented with sandalwood, while premium instruments hummed quietly beside the soft leather recliner he was laid on.

A female nurse gently swabbed the wound again, her gloved hands moving delicately across his skin. “The bullet only grazed you,” she said with a respectful tilt of her head. “Still, we’ll be keeping you under supervision for the next 24 hours. Lord Schwarzenger gave us direct instructions."

Maestro, despite the dull pain, nodded calmly. “Tell him I’m grateful.”

Another doctor stepped in with a tablet in hand, scrolling through his vitals. “Vitals are stable. The bleeding stopped cleanly. We’ve al

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The boardroom slowly settled into a new stillness, papers being shuffled, tablets powered off, and half-empty glasses of sparkling water left behind as the introduction meeting neared its end. Schwarzenger turned his attention to the entire table, his voice composed but authoritative. “Are there any other issues on the ground we need to address before we wrap up?” he asked, gaze sweeping across the twelve high-ranking individuals. Heads subtly shook from side to side. “No, sir,” Rothschild Sr. replied first, followed by quiet murmurs of agreement from the others. Schwarzenger gave a small nod of satisfaction. “Very well then,” he said, rising from the seat with his usual calm grace. “You’re all dismissed. Kindly proceed to the bottom floor. My son would like to address the press and well-wishers from the boardroom balcony.” Chairs scraped gently against the tiled floor as the general managers began filing out, one after another, each offering a polite nod or bow in Elijah’s direct
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Elijah leaned back, his gaze piercing Peter's. “How about you sell us the cemetery?”Shocked, Peter blinked. “Sell… the cemetery?” Bartholomew nodded. “Name your price. We won’t negotiate. Whatever you think this land and the graves is worth, we’ll pay it.” Peter’s breath caught in his throat and his mind raced with speed. Theis was an offer he couldn’t refuse. "Instead of being responsible for anything that happens to the graves, I rather ask for a huge sum of money and relocate to the Maldives."A slow, nervous smile crept onto his face knowing that no amount of money would sound too big for the Schwarzengers. “Then… I suppose I should write down the price?” A sharp intentional grin crossed Elijah's lips. “Exactly," he muttered happily.Bartholomew slid the checkbook closer to Peter “Any amount you wish, Mr. Peter August." He said, feeling charismatic.Peter hesitated only a second before reaching for the pen
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Peter August’s hands trembled as he finally tucked in his shirt, his face still flushed with humiliation. He swallowed hard before mustering the courage to speak. “Y..yes, I’m Peter August,” he stammered, his voice hoarse. “But who the hell are you people? And how did you get past the security guards to badge in here?” Before Elijah could respond, Peter’s eyes suddenly narrowed, studying Elijah’s face with growing recognition. His lips parted in disbelief as he spoke with excitement. “Wait… you look familiar,” he muttered, taking a hesitant step forward. His eyes widened. “You’re… the son of the wealthiest man in Futuriux! The one standing with him on the balcony of the Schwarzenger Global Inc. tower when...when that assassination attempt happened!” "Finally, someone recognizes me."Elijah exhaled softly under his breath, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his features. Though, of course, it had to be tied to that horrific incident. “Thank goodness,” he murmured dryly before st
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The following day, the sound of rotor blades filled the air as two Schwarzenger helicopters landed directly in the graveyard where Aaron's parents were buried in Heralzia. The rotors had barely come to a stop when Elijah, along with one of his trusted butlers, Bartholomew and two other guards, stepped out."Fly the choppers immediately to a nearby hangar. We shouldn't be disrespecting the dead," Elijah instructed the pilots before walking away to locate the tombstones of Aaron's parents."I'll make a call once we're set to move, so you shouldn't fly far," Bartholomew said, speaking into his walkie-talkie before joining Elijah.He didn’t walk far before he noticed two tombstones that were identical. His eyes immediately went to the engravings, which read: Late Kellyman and Late Abigail Kellyman.He called out to Elijah, who was still searching for the graves. "My lord!" he shouted, not disguising the urgency in his voice. "I think I found them, sir!"“You did!?” Elijah exclaimed excite
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The lead guard stood just outside looking sharp, his helmet under one arm and his dossier in the other. “My lord,” he greeted, bowing his head. Elijah stepped aside. “Come in. And I hope you brought good answers.” "Yes, my lord." He said and saluted Elijah, who had sunk into a couch. "I made very sure I got all the information relating to him." "Nice, please sit and tell me what you've got." Elijah nodded and gestured for the guard to sit." Ignoring Elijah's gestures to him, the guard proceeded to speak while still standing. "After..." "You didn't hear me when I told you to sit, right?" Elijah interrupted, letting out a low sigh of frustration. A sinking feeling overwhelmed the guard as he mumbled under his breath and buried his stare into the floor. "We dare not sit in front of Lord Schwarzenger or look at him in the eye, my Lord. No one dared to, not even me...your ordinary subject." Amused, Elijah released a loud chuckle. "The last time I checked, I'm Lord Schwarzenger and I.
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In the estate infirmary, Maestro sat up on a regal velvet-lined recliner, his left arm bandaged and resting in a silk sling. The sterile scent of antiseptic still filled in the air.The walls were lined with gold-framed paintings, the floor covered in thick Persian rugs, and the ceiling hosted a chandelier that could rival the one in the ballroom.“You look like a mafia uncle in a five-star rehab,” Elijah joked as he stepped in.Maestro looked up from the tablet in his hand, a wry smile forming on his lips. “And you look like a Schwarzenger's war general who needs a vacation, sir."They chuckled briefly, but the tension was quick to return immediately. Elijah moved to the side chair, sinking into it with a long sigh. “We need to talk.”Maestro nodded. “I was already thinking the same, my lord. That's why I asked to see you."Elijah leaned forward. "I think by now, you should know who sent that message because we already can assume we knew who shot the gun."Maestro’s smile faded insta

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