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Chapter 82: Power PLay
Two days.It had been two days since they dragged Rowan Kane out of Obsidian Tech like a dog—cuffs tight, cameras flashing, the whole company watching. Framed for raping April, a lie Lena Aston had spun so beautifully and carefully with a fake video and a cold heart. She’d won.Or so she thought. In her head, she was queen, sittin’ pretty on her throne, laughing at Rowan’s fall. She’d warned him, hadn’t she? She had told him he’d crawl back, begging for mercy, for one more shot at life. Lena didn’t just want him down; she wanted him broken. And she was halfway there. For now, she had broken his legs, confining him to prison cells.She leaned back in her new office —President of Obsidian Tech, a title she’d clawed her way to, stepping over Rowan’s corpse. First, she had Jason Cole, Echelon Eight’s golden boy, wrapped around her finger. Or at least, she thought so. The way he looked at her during that orchestrated dinner just two nights ago — soft eyes, lingering a beat too long — told
Chapter 81: Broken Men & Bitter Truths
“Rowan Kane.”“Yeah. That is my name.” he replied softly. The prisoner sitting next to him was an African-American. A muscular guy with dark glowing skin and deep voice. Unnecessary descriptions, but he looked like a mere man.“So, what’s your story, huh?” he asked Rowan as they sat on the bench, watching other prisoners playing basketball. Rowan turned, his jaw tight, irritation flaring. “Look, buddy. I don’t know you, you don’t know me. Let’s keep it that way, alright? You don’t wanna know me, and I don’t give a fuck about you or your sad little sob stories.” The words came out sharp, bitter, and he looked away, letting the anger simmer.The prison yard was a gray, lifeless slab of concrete, the kind of place that drained your soul if you stayed too long. Rowan Kane sat on a rusted metal bench, his back pressed against the chain-link fence, watching a group of inmates toss a basketball around. Their shouts and laughs bounced off the walls, but it all felt distant, like he was und
Chapter 80: Victor Monroe
Jason’s fists balled, his blood hot under the mask. He wanted to swing, to knock that rose out of Carson’s hand, but he held it in. Stoicism! Stoicism!He was never to forget. Those classes taught him stoicism in situations like these. Control in the storm. Calm in the hurricane.He pulled the mask tighter, his voice low and steady. “You’re real proud of that flower, aren’t you? Do you think it’s gonna buy Mia’s back? Roses ain’t worth shit when a woman’s already lookin’ for the next big check.”Carson’s face twitched, his smirk slipping, but before he could snap back, Carson’s father stepped forward, his presence like a dark cloud rolling in. “This the kid you mentioned?” he asked, his voice smooth, low, like a blade dipped in honey. He tilted his head, sizing Jason up, his green eyes glinting with something cold—amusement, or maybe hunger.“Jason Cole, Echelon Eight’s shiny new toy. Quite the pleasure to meet you in this… quaint little hospital.” His smile was sharp, no warmth, the
Chapter 79: Ex And Why
The hospital room was cold, aseptic, the kind of place that made your skin crawl. Beeping monitors filled the silent room, a steady beep-beep-beep like a heartbeat that wouldn’t quit. A drip hung by the bed, slow drops falling into a tube snaking into Mia’s arm. She lay there, pale, a bandage wrapped around her forehead, blood crusted at the edges. Jason Cole sat beside her, his hoodie pulled low, black face mask tucked in his pocket as he no longer needed it. He wasn’t hiding today—he needed answers. His chair creaked as he shifted, his hands restless, picking at the frayed edge of his sleeve. What the hell happened? He’d been at the penthouse, receiving some lectures on being a stoic CEO’s son, when the news hit—clips of Priyanka on the fifth-floor lobby, Mia tumbling down the stairs, girls screaming “murderer.” The videos were everywhere, trending with hashtags like #Jason’sGirl’sAKiller. Priyanka, his Priyanka, the girl who’d wiped juice off his shirt when the whole campus
Chapter 78: A New Dawn
Rowan shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping. “I thought you were smart, Rachael. Logical. But you’re betting on this fake bullshit?” He didn’t wait for her answer. He pushed off the counter, his blood boiling, a volcano ready to erupt. Staff stared as he stormed through the lobby, their whispers trailing him like smoke. He was done playing nice. Done playing receptionist, done with all this stupid acting. He had been warned, but he did not listen. And now, it was costing him someone’s life. Someone had set this up, and he knew who. Lena Aston. Mrs. Blackson. They’d crossed a line, using April to paint him as a monster. How far do humans go? How deep was their hate? He’d been soft on Lena, his ex-wife, thinking his slow revenge—buying Obsidian, planting Jason as a decoy—would make her see her mistakes. Her tears the other night, when they’d argued, had seemed real, like she was cracking open. But no. She was spinning a horror show, twisting the plot with lies so dark it could op
Chapter 77: And The Fall
Rowan shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping. “I thought you were smart, Rachael. Logical. But you’re betting on this fake bullshit?” He didn’t wait for her answer. He pushed off the counter, his blood boiling, a volcano ready to erupt. Staff stared as he stormed through the lobby, their whispers trailing him like smoke. He was done playing nice. Done playing receptionist, done with all this stupid acting. He had been warned, but he did not listen. And now, it was costing him someone’s life. Someone had set this up, and he knew who. Lena Aston. Mrs. Blackson. They’d crossed a line, using April to paint him as a monster. How far do humans go? How deep was their hate? He’d been soft on Lena, his ex-wife, thinking his slow revenge—buying Obsidian, planting Jason as a decoy—would make her see her mistakes. Her tears the other night, when they’d argued, had seemed real, like she was cracking open. But no. She was spinning a horror show, twisting the plot with lies so dark it could op
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