2024-11-24 14:46:29At the Xanta Family Mansion, Venua City….
The house resembled a palace, grand and majestic, adorned with crystal chandeliers radiating luxurious brilliance from every corner. That evening, the house was filled with formally dressed guests crowding the main hall, which was embellished with a red carpet and golden ornaments. The clinking of glasses and soft laughter filled the air, marking the celebration of a major achievement by the Xanta family’s eldest grandson—Darren Xanta. Darren stood in the center of the hall, clad in a perfectly tailored black suit that emphasized his aura as the family heir. His confident smile shone as he graciously received congratulations from the guests. "Congratulations, Darren! Securing the contract with V-Tech is an extraordinary achievement," said an elderly man—Mr. Birru, a renowned jewelry tycoon in Venua. "Thank you," Darren replied politely, a slight nod of his head reflecting the composure of a man who knew he had reached the pinnacle. "But this is just the beginning. We plan to take the Xanta family company even further." Across the hall, a small group of guests huddled together in a private discussion. They spoke in hushed tones, ensuring no one overheard their conversations. "I heard Darren’s success isn’t entirely his own doing," whispered a stout man with a curled mustache, the owner of a steel company. "Some people say he was helped by someone… someone incredibly influential!" The man beside him, dressed in a navy-blue suit, nodded in agreement. "Yes, that rumor’s been going around. Apparently, Darren received support from someone they call… Mr. Death." "Mr. Death?" one of them frowned, intrigued. "Isn’t that just a nickname? No one knows who Mr. Death really is." "Yeah… but his influence is real," the mustachioed man replied in a lowered voice. "People say Mr. Death has controlled Venua for the past five years. No major business escapes his oversight. He’s like a god in this city—terrifying and untouchable!" "So, does he control V-Tech too?" asked the man in the blue suit, his eyes narrowing as if piecing together fragments of information. "I’m not sure," the mustachioed man shook his head. "But the fact that Darren managed to secure such a massive contract in such a short time… it’s hard not to suspect Mr. Death’s involvement." Another man, younger and appearing to be a new entrepreneur, murmured, "But why would Mr. Death help Darren? What’s in it for him?" That question left them all momentarily silent. No one truly knew the reasons or motives behind the mysterious figure’s actions. Meanwhile, in the center of the hall, Darren conversed with several other prominent figures, receiving compliments and forging new connections. His smile broadened as a local tech billionaire remarked obsequiously, "You’re truly fortunate, Darren. Securing the V-Tech contract is every company’s dream in this city." "I just worked hard and seized opportunities," Darren replied with feigned humility, further impressing his conversation partner. In another corner of the hall, the conversation about Mr. Death continued. "I heard Mr. Death also has strong political ties," said the man in the blue suit. "He doesn’t just control business; he controls the city’s government. Every major decision… he pulls the strings!" "True," the mustachioed man agreed. "Mr. Death even has a reputation for ruthlessly destroying anyone who stands in his way. Not long ago, there was a businessman who refused Mr. Death’s offer. Then, that company went bankrupt within a day!” Their discussion paused as a server passed by, carrying a tray of champagne glasses. They each took a glass before resuming their hushed conversation. "The real question now," the mustachioed man whispered, "who exactly Mr. Death is? I’m certain he’s more than just a rumor. He exists, and he’s watching all of us." The grand hall of the Xanta house, brimming with formally dressed guests, suddenly fell silent as the main doors swung open. A man dressed far from formal stepped inside. His outfit—a simple long-sleeved black T-shirt paired with dark jeans and a black cap—stood in stark contrast to the lavish surroundings. Yet, despite his casual attire, his presence commanded attention, drawing every gaze toward him. He is Zander Rhett Guezz. Zander walked calmly, ignoring the disdainful stares and murmurs of the guests.
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“Yes, just do it,” Biella said softly but clearly. Her lips curved slightly, not in fear, but in calm confidence. “I am waiting for you to drag my husband’s corpse here.”Biella’s calm struck Viktor harder than any insult. His breath caught, then turned rough. A low growl rose from his throat, filled with anger and a sense of threat he refused to admit. There was no hysteria, no tears, no pleading. Biella’s lack of fear was something he could not control, and that was exactly what made him furious.“Crazy woman,” Viktor hissed. His hand gripped the cane so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He turned his face away, as if Biella’s gaze burned his fragile pride. “We will see how long your calm lasts.”***Elsewhere, in the harbor area wrapped in salty fog and the smell of rusted metal, a black car stopped without drawing attention.Zander stepped out first. His stride was steady, his eyes already sweeping the area. The dock lights glowed dimly, casting long shadows between steel co
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“Why are you not afraid?” Viktor’s voice rose, filled with disbelief and anger that was no longer hidden. The cane in his hand struck the floor hard, its sound echoing roughly throughout the room. “Why are you laughing instead, and so sure that I cannot kill your husband?”He stepped closer, his old face turning red, the veins on his temples tightening. “Do you know who I am?” he shouted. “I am Viktor Lang.”The cane struck the floor again. “I am a former general. I led wars, crushed rebellions, destroyed my enemies one by one.” His eyes narrowed sharply. “Every hostage I ever took, every enemy I ever faced, trembled just by hearing my words.”He pointed the tip of the cane at Biella. “But you?” he hissed. “You look down on me.”Biella looked at him calmly. There was no tension in her shoulders.“Old man, your era and the current era are different,” Biella said.Viktor fell silent for a moment, as if he could not believe what he had just heard.“Maybe in the past, when you were young
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Biella was tied to the chair, both of her hands pulled behind the backrest. The ropes were tight, pressing into her wrists, making every small movement feel useless. Yet her back remained straight. Her head was held high, her gaze steady, as if the chair were not a restraint but a temporary throne.Viktor approached slowly. The sound of his cane striking the floor echoed in a steady rhythm as he circled Biella, one full round, like a predator assessing its prey. His eyes were cold and calculating, as if every step had been planned long before this night arrived.“If I were still young,” Viktor finally said, his voice low and rough, “and had the same stamina as before, I might have already done the most disgusting thing you can imagine to a woman as beautiful as you, sex.”Biella did not turn her face away. Her expression did not change.“Unfortunately,” Viktor continued, his tone growing harder, “age cannot be bargained with. My body is already too old for sex.” He stopped right in fr
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Jacky stood beside Zander with a tense face, his jaw clenched as he held back his anxiety. The hall had returned to how it was before, filled with fake smiles and the clinking of glasses, but for the two of them, the world felt split apart. There was no more music, no applause. Only one name kept echoing in Jacky’s head. Biella.“Young master,” Jacky finally spoke, his tone controlled but clearly trembling. “What are we going to do next?” He swallowed before continuing, “What if something bad happens to Miss Biella?”Zander kept staring straight ahead, as if he were looking at something no one else could see. His face was calm, far too calm for a situation like this. He did not answer right away, and the silence only made Jacky more restless.“There is no need to worry,” Zander said, his voice low and steady. “I have already given my wife something.”Jacky turned quickly. “You mean… something?”Zander stepped forward slowly, signaling for them to move away from the crowd. “Something
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The hall lights that had briefly gone out slowly turned back on. Music began to play again, and the guests started applauding, thinking the earlier disruption was just a minor technical issue. The large screen once again displayed the Xanta logo, as if nothing had happened. But Zander immediately realized something was wrong. His eyes moved quickly, scanning the room. Biella was gone. At first, he held himself back. Maybe Biella went to the restroom, he thought. Or maybe Elena asked her to talk for a moment on the other side of the hall. Zander forced himself to stay calm, but the dark feeling that had been troubling his chest since the afternoon now turned into a heavy pressure. He walked quickly toward the back area, then into the corridor leading to the women’s restroom. Several guests passed by him, but he did not notice any of them. Zander stopped in front of the restroom door, waited a few seconds, then called softly, “Biella?” There was no answer. He stepped into t
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That afternoon, Jacky arrived with an unusual expression. It was not serious like when delivering bad news, but hesitant. He carried a thin folder and an old yellow envelope. “Young Master, Miss Biella,” he greeted respectfully. “There are two matters. First, Foree’s assets have begun to be auctioned quietly. Some valuable parts can be acquired at a low price.” Zander nodded. “Do it. Take full control.” Jacky continued, lowering his voice slightly. “Second, this envelope has no sender. It arrived through a private courier this morning. The address was handwritten and directed specifically to you, Young Master.” Zander took the envelope. The paper was thick and old, with a cracked red wax seal. On the front, there were only a few words written: “For Zander Guezz. From the Past.” Biella frowned. “Who sent it?” Zander slowly broke the wax seal. Inside was only one old black and white photograph and a small sheet of paper. The photo showed a group of young soldiers on a battlefield
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