2025-06-01 07:24:36Isaiah felt a surge of resolve. His father's pain was palpable. This was his legacy and his dying wish. He was old money now and a third-generation rich kid at that.
"What do you want me to do, Father?" Isaiah asked, his voice firm. "I'm ready for anything."
"Good, I'll call you," Mr. Bradley said, a grateful smile on his face. "Occasionally you will have to come in and handle certain assignments at the company. This will gradually cement your position as the future head of the company. But for now, you must hide your identity. I've already instructed the Chancellor and his PA to protect your secret until you're ready to reveal it."
Mr. Bradley stood up and extended his arms. Isaiah rose as well and they embraced. It was an awkward hug at first, then it deepened and what followed was a silent acknowledgment of lost time of a connection found too late and yet still profoundly felt by the both of them. They talked for hours, with Mr. Bradley sharing anecdotes of his youth, of Isaiah’s mother, Mary, and of the early days of building the empire he inherited from his father.
Isaiah listened and was captivated. He soaked in every word and every gesture. The world outside the office faded away and was replaced by the intimate space of a newly found father-son bond. They talked until the sky outside the window turned from a deep indigo to an inky black, dotted with the first stars.
Finally, Mr. Bradley checked his watch. “It’s late, son. You should get back to your dorm.”
Isaiah nodded, a strange mix of exhilaration and melancholy swirling within him. He left the building with a smile on his face and his hand in his pocket as he fiddled around with the black diamond card, which was a tangible weight in his pocket and a secret world now open to him.
The news of his disappearance had already become a campus legend. Whispers of a dreadful fate at the hands of the school’s owner, fueled by his earlier defiance of the top donors’ children, Harold and Walter, had spread like wildfire throughout the campus. He opened the door to his shared lodge room and the familiar scent of stale pizza and unwashed laundry hit him.
Jackson, Luke, and Alan were all there. Jackson and Luke, who are close friends with Isaiah, were sprawled on their beds as they looked up, their faces etched with relief. Alan, the fourth roommate, was the only one out of the trio who did not like Isaiah. He was hunched over his laptop with his headphones clamped over his ears, his brow furrowed in annoyance.
“Isaiah! You’re back!” Jackson exclaimed, sitting up abruptly.
“Dude, we thought you were toast!” Luke added, swinging his legs off the bed. “Seriously, we were about to organize a search party. The rumors were wild.”
Isaiah offered them a small, almost goofy smile, the lingering effects of his conversation with Mr. Bradley still evident. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice calmer than he felt. “The Chancellor… he just kept me in his office. Said it was my punishment. He had me help him with some paperwork.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Paperwork?” Jackson scoffed, but a relieved grin spread across his face. “Man, you had us worried sick!”
“We figured you were in deep trouble,” Luke added. “You got that look on your face, though. Like nothing bad happened.”
“Yeah, that's because nothing happened,” Isaiah repeated, walking to his bed. “Just… a long day. I’m exhausted.”
“Have you eaten?” Jackson asked, ever the concerned friend.
“Yeah, I had something,” Isaiah lied, his stomach rumbling faintly. Food was the last thing on his mind. “All I want now is to sleep.”
Alan ripped off his headphones, his face contorted in irritation. “Can you guys keep it down? I’m on a call with my girlfriend. Some of us actually have things to do.” He shot Isaiah a venomous look. “I guess you're back. Now shut up.”
Jackson and Luke ignored him, still buzzing with questions for Isaiah. The news of his return and his punishment would be all over campus soon.
Isaiah lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His new life and his father. The Ten billion dollars in his possession within a premium black diamond card, he was one of the less than ten who did. And to think this was just a penny compared to the transgenerational empire his father just offered him. He was now a third-generation rich kid with more money than the parents of all the students of BZU combined.
He thought to himself what fate awaited all those who mocked and despised him—if only Jules didn’t break up with him, she would have been by his side in his future—but most importantly, what fate awaited him now that he was taking on his father’s master plan to have him take over the Bradley empire. He closed his eyes as he ended the day with a smile.
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Chapter 341
The observation deck was quiet now—too quiet after the alarms had finally died. The station’s viewport stretched wide and black, the golden shimmer on the horizon no longer a distant pulse but a steady, encroaching glow. Isaiah stood alone at the railing, hands resting on the cool metal, frost tracing faint patterns where his fingers touched. The rest of the bay had emptied: soldiers to their posts, trainees to their quarters, Nero and Ragnar to whatever urgent briefing Noirman had called. Even Elena had slipped away after her confession, taking Kate with her.For the first time in hours, or maybe days, he was alone with his thoughts. He stared at the approaching light and weighed it.What were the pros of fighting. The station had firepower. Shields. Trained personnel. His team—Ruko, Spiff, Fen, the outcasts—had already proven they’d die for him. V'He could win. The frost came easier now, stronger. He could feel it in his bones: whatever the Zortox had left in him, it answered when
Chapter 340
The grand foyer of the Bradley mansion felt smaller than it ever had—high ceilings pressing down, crystal chandelier throwing fractured light across marble floors like broken promises. The family stood in a loose, uneven circle: Nathan near the staircase, arms crossed, jaw tight; Jenny supporting Ashley, who leaned heavily against her, blood still crusted at her temple; Luke and Jackson flanking them like silent sentinels; Fayour hovering near the edge of the group, eyes red and darting; Anthony at the center, charcoal suit rumpled now, silver hair catching the chandelier glow; Julia a step behind him, black dress immaculate but hands clasped so tightly her knuckles showed white.No one had sat. No one had moved to clean Ashley’s wound. The air smelled of old wood polish, jasmine from the open windows, and the faint copper tang of blood.Anthony spoke first, voice low, measured, but carrying the weight of years.“The Bureau took Isaiah,” he said. “The Universal Bureau of Magic. They’v
Chapter 339:
The Bradley mansion loomed at the end of the long private drive like a dark monument carved from money and secrets. Floodlights washed the white stone facade in cold blue-white, turning the manicured lawns into flat, artificial green. Nathan killed the engine in the circular driveway, tires crunching on gravel. The silence that followed was louder than the drive had been.He stepped out first. Jenny followed from the passenger side. Luke and Jackson climbed out of the back, doors closing with soft, expensive thuds. The night air smelled of cut grass, night-blooming jasmine, and something metallic. Blood, perhaps, or just the promise of it.The front doors opened before they reached the steps. Fayour stood there. Blond hair disheveled, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, eyes red-rimmed and wide. He looked younger than Nathan remembered, like the nineteen-year-old he actually was instead of the polished heir he’d been trained to play.“Nathan—”Nathan moved past him without stoppi
Chapter 338
The back field felt suddenly too open, too exposed under the darkness of the night. The dying oak cast a thin, jagged shadow that sprawled across the grass. Jenny sat on the broken bench, knees drawn up, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands as the temperature had dropped. Luke stood rigid beside her, arms folded so tightly his biceps strained against his shirt. Jackson leaned against the trunk of the oak, one boot propped on a root, trying to look casual while his eyes kept darting between Nathan and the distant campus buildings.Nathan had just crushed the earpiece under his heel. The small skin colored shards lay scattered in the dirt like broken teeth. He was opening his mouth to speak when his phone buzzed again.He pulled it out. It was Fayour. The name on the screen hit him like a cold fist to the sternum.He answered on the first ring, speaker off, phone pressed hard to his ear. “Fayour.”A ragged inhale on the other end, then a voice so choked it barely sounded like his young
Chapter 337
The red emergency lights still pulsed like a dying heartbeat. Isaiah stood at the center, frost still clinging to the edges of his sleeves. Elena faced him, calm as ever, the faint glimmer in her emerald eyes now unmistakable, like captured starlight.No one had moved since her admission.Then the bay doors hissed open again.Kate entered.She was a storm in human form—broad-shouldered, dark-haired, eyes the color of storm clouds. She wore the same black tactical gear as always, but tonight it seemed tighter, sharper, as though her body had already decided violence was inevitable. She took one look at the scene, Elena standing too close to Isaiah, Ragnar’s hand hovering near his sidearm, Nero braced like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, and her expression shifted from watchful to feral.In the next heartbeat she charged.She moved like a blade through water, silent, lethal, unstoppable. Her right hand came up in a slicing arc that could have taken a head clean off at the shou
Chapter 336
The training bay still smelled of scorched metal and ozone. Melted rifle barrels lay in twisted heaps near the walls, cooling with faint metallic pings. The frost Isaiah had summoned lingered in thin sheets across the deck, glittering under the red emergency lights like shattered glass. No one moved to clean it. No one moved at all.Soldiers stood frozen in half-raised postures, rifles lowered but fingers still curled around grips. Ruko’s tattoos had dimmed to a dull silver flicker; Spiff kept flexing and unflexing his hands as though testing they still worked. Fen stared at the empty center of the bay where the Zortox had stood, mouth slightly open.Isaiah remained where he had faced them, five feet from nothing now, hands loose at his sides. The frost on his fingertips had retreated, but the cold still rolled off him in slow waves.Nero jumped down from the observation platform, boots thudding against the deck. He walked straight to Isaiah, stopping just short of the lingering ice.
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