2025-04-11 18:18:11As Mr. Webb entered, a wave of submission swept through the lounge. Every head bowed. Employees straightened their backs, hostesses folded their hands, and the music lowered as if the walls themselves knew better than to offend him.
Carl Webb owned this place. Evergreen Lounge was his kingdom, and in his eyes, only the worthy deserved to be in his presence. His gaze was sharp, his stance unwavering—a man accustomed to power, to having the world bend to his will.
Raymond’s girlfriend was enthralled.
This was the kind of power she craved—the command, the respect, the fear. But a part of her wished this was Jerry Haas instead. If Carl Webb commanded this level of submission, she could only imagine what it would be like when Jerry walked into a room.
Carl walked up to Raymond, greeting him with a firm handshake, the kind exchanged between men who knew their places in the hierarchy. But his eyes barely lingered before shifting to the unwelcome presence standing nearby.
Jackson.
Carl’s face darkened.
How had this nobody even made it past the door?
Tricia and the other hostesses stiffened. They knew Carl’s type—men who saw themselves as kings, who despised anything that reminded them of peasants and paupers. Jackson was a stain on the room, a mockery of everything Evergreen Lounge represented.
It was a shame they had let him in at all.
Carl didn’t hesitate.
He closed the distance between himself and Jackson, scanning him from head to toe as if assessing a cockroach on his pristine floor.
Then—a slap.
The second slap of the night.
Jackson’s head snapped to the side, the sharp sting echoing in the suffocating silence of the room.
A barrage of insults followed.
"Miserable fool. Polluting my establishment with your presence."
"You should be licking the floor beneath my feet."
"Who gave you the audacity to confront a VIP? To even breathe the same air as my esteemed guests?"
Carl’s voice dripped with disgust, his words slicing through the room like a blade.
Raymond’s girlfriend was ecstatic.
She laughed, clapped, practically jumped with excitement. This was power. Raw, unfiltered dominance. She loved every second of it. But she couldn't help but imagine—what if it was Jerry instead?
Jackson held his cheek but didn’t flinch.
He simply smiled.
He had done nothing wrong. His entire life, he had asked for just one thing—to be treated like a human being. Yet men like Tyler, Linda, Jonah, Raymond, and Carl always found ways to remind him that, in their eyes, he was nothing.
He swallowed the pain.
He said nothing.
He would wait for Jerry Haas to arrive and finish what he came for.
But Carl wasn’t done yet.
He saw the way Raymond’s girlfriend was looking at him—like a god. And it fueled his pride.
Why stop now?
"Crawl," Carl commanded, his voice thick with arrogance.
The room stilled.
Carl smirked, turning to the exotic woman who was practically wrapped around his arm now.
"Apologize to the lady," he ordered Jackson. "On your knees."
The woman beamed.
This? This was a real man. Someone who could demand submission and get it. She held onto Carl’s arm, forgetting Raymond entirely, waiting for the moment Jackson would bow before her.
But Jackson didn’t move.
He didn’t even blink.
He simply scoffed.
Carl’s smirk disappeared.
This wasn’t just defiance—it was an insult.
His face twisted with rage. "Get him on the ground," he barked at the security team.
Immediately, the head of security and his men seized Jackson, their grips tight and unforgiving. They were just about to force him down when—
DING.
The elevator opened.
And everything stopped.
The music cut out. Conversations died mid-sentence. Glasses were placed down carefully.
A collective chill ran through the room.
Carl’s heart skipped.
He already knew.
Only one man could command this kind of silence.
Jerry Haas.
Jerry rushed out of the elevator, which was unusual, as he always walked majestically. His move this time could only mean one thing to everyone who saw him—there was trouble.
Jerry Haas is the head of management at Sky Tower; he was two hundred million dollars shy from a billionaire. He was powerful and highly connected, especially since everyone knows he worked for the subordinate of the owner of Sky Tower.
Also, he was highly respected by everyone.
Carl’s face tightened. He quickly signaled the security to keep things quiet. If Mr. Haas saw this mess, he’d be humiliated. Worse—he could lose everything.
The woman’s grip on Carl loosened.
Her eyes widened as she adjusted herself, hoping to look as irresistible as possible. This was her moment.
But Jerry wasn’t looking at her.
He wasn’t looking at Carl.
He was looking at Jackson.
Then, to the horror of everyone in the room—
He bowed.
A full 90-degree bow.
"Mr. Hart, I am deeply sorry for my lateness. Please forgive your humble servant!"
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Chapter 526: Mother And Daughter!
Elara stood in the doorway, her posture uncertain, her hands clasped in front of her. She looked older than the last time Jackson had seen her. As a matter of fact, she was looking more worn, and more fragile. Her eyes swept the room, taking in Ruth, Jackson, Jacqueline, the others.And then her gaze landed on Celestine.The room stilled.The air, which had been warm with reunion, turned cold. The chatter died. Even Miles, hanging Eleanor's portrait, paused and looked up.Celestine stood by the window, her back half-turned, as if she had been trying to disappear into the light. But now she was frozen, caught in her mother's gaze.Elara took a step forward. "Celestine."The name hung in the air like a challenge, a plea, a prayer.Elara took a step forward. "Celestine."The name hung in the air like a challenge, a plea, a prayer.Celestine didn't move. Her hands were at her sides, clenched into fists. Her breathing was shallow, controlled.The room watched, breath held. Jackson exchange
Chapter 525: Back At Sky Tower!
Helen sat beside Bella's bed long after the tea had gone cold, watching her daughter shiver beneath the mound of blankets. The fever had climbed again to104, then 105. She had given her medicine, cooled her with damp cloths, wrapped her in every blanket in the house. Nothing helped.She picked up her phone for the tenth time that hour, her thumb hovering over Jackson's name. She had called him twice already. Twice to voicemail.But Bella needed him. Needed the boy who had looked at her daughter like she was the only light in the darkness. Needed the man who had promised, over and over, to protect her.Helen pressed the call button.It rang once, twice and then three times.But at the end of it all, it still went to voicemail.She waited for the beep, her voice tight with fear and frustration."Jackson, it's Helen. Bella's mother. Bella is sick. Something is wrong. She's been burning up for two days, and nothing I do helps. She calls for you in her sleep. Please—please call back. She n
Chapter 524: Bella's Fever!
The black SUVs arrived at the cottage fifteen minutes after the convoy disappeared down the winding mountain road. They came in force, six vehicles, twelve men, all in tactical gear, their weapons drawn and ready.The lead operative named Cross who had been with Don Lewis for years, gave the signal. His team fanned out around the perimeter, moving with practiced efficiency. Breach. Clear. Secure.The front door was unlocked.Cross pushed it open, his weapon raised, his eyes scanning the empty room. The cottage was silent and still. A fire had burned down to ash in the hearth. The kitchen counter still held a plate of half-eaten cinnamon rolls.But no people. No Harts. No one."Clear," one of his men called from the bedroom."Clear," another echoed from the kitchen.Cross lowered his weapon, his jaw tightening. He moved through the cottage slowly, taking in the bare walls, the empty bookshelves, the places where frames had hung for decades, leaving only ghost outlines in the dust."The
Chapter 523: We'll Build You A New Home!
Whitaker's fingers flew across his phone screen, his heart pounding as he typed the message that would change everything.Chen is Lewis's mole. She knows about the cottage. Evacuate everyone. Now.He hit send and watched the message disappear into the ether, praying Copper would check his phone in time.***At the cottage, Copper's phone buzzed on the kitchen table.He was in the middle of a conversation with James about the next steps when the vibration cut through his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, and the color drained from his face."Everyone, listen to me!" Copper's voice cut through the easy morning chatter like a blade. The room fell silent, all eyes turning to him. "We have to leave. Now."Andrew set down his coffee cup. "What's going on?"Copper held up his phone, his hand steady despite the urgency in his voice. "Whitaker found the mole. It's Deputy Director Chen. She's been feeding information to Don Lewis. He knows where we are."The silence that followed was absolute
Chapter 522: A Mole Within The CIA!
The drive to CIA headquarters was long, giving Whitaker too much time to think. About Samantha's recovery. About the Harts' bond. About the looming threat of Don Lewis and the Phoenix. About Copper's warning that Peniel's betrayal might not be isolated.He parked in his designated spot and made his way through security, nodding to familiar faces. But something felt off. The glances from passing agents were too quick, too careful. The whispers stopped when he approached.By the time he reached his office, he knew something was wrong."Director Whitaker."The voice came from behind him. He turned to find Deputy Director Margaret Chen standing in his doorway, her expression cold and professional. She was a sharp woman, early fifties, with the kind of eyes that missed nothing and the kind of smile that never reached them."Deputy Director Chen." Whitaker kept his voice neutral. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"Chen stepped into his office, closing the door behind her. "We need to talk ab
Chapter 521: That Won't Change, Miles!
The evening unfolded like a gentle dream.After the cinnamon rolls were devoured and the kitchen cleaned, everyone drifted into the main room of the cottage. Andrew found an old guitar in the corner and, after some prodding, played a few chords—badly, according to Hailey, who then took it from him and played beautifully. "Where did you learn to play like that?" Andrew asked, genuine awe in his voice.Hailey shrugged, a modest smile playing on her lips. "Music lessons as a kid. Self-taught, mostly."Andrew shook his head slowly, then a mischievous grin spread across his face. "You know, I have to give you your flowers."Hailey raised an eyebrow, still playing. "My flowers?""Yeah." Andrew leaned back, crossing his arms with exaggerated smugness. "Here I was, heroically attempting to entertain everyone with my terrible guitar skills, and you just casually sit there and show me up like it's nothing."Hailey laughed, the sound bright and genuine, mingling with the last notes of her song.
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