2025-11-03 08:29:25
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HE PROVED HIMSELF
The rope brushed Lewis’s wrists. —and snapped tight around empty air. He twisted sharply, dropping his weight. His shoulders rolled forward and his wrists slipped free in the same smooth motion, skin sliding against rough fiber. The guard tying him cursed, fingers clawing at nothing but dust and air. Lewis surged up from the dip and drove his elbow backward—hard, precise—into Emerson’s ribs. The strike landed exactly where breath lived. The impact echoed dull and deep. Emerson staggered, a sharp grunt tearing out of him as his chest folded inward. Lewis didn’t pause to watch it land. He pivoted on the ball of his foot, sweeping low. The nearest guard lost balance instantly, legs cut from under him, and crashed onto his back with a heavy thud that rattled the chains hanging from the pillars. Another guard rushed in, anger outweighing caution. Lewis ducked beneath the swing, spun, and struck the man’s jaw with a sharp open palm. The sound cracked through the warehouse
THE ABANDONED WING
Lewis didn’t resist as they dragged him forward. Blood crept slowly from the corner of his mouth, warm against his chin, his jaw tight as he swallowed it back. His breath had steadied again—too steady for a man who’d just taken a punch to the gut. His shoulders rolled with the pull of the guards, but his eyes were alive, sharp, drifting from face to face. Five of them. He counted automatically. Emerson in front. Two at his arms. Two holding Maria. Lewis’s lips twitched—not fear. A faint, mocking smile tugged at one corner as his gaze slid over them, measuring stride, grip, spacing. They noticed the look. “Wipe that grin off your face,” one of the men snapped, tightening his hold. Lewis said nothing. Maria stumbled once, caught herself, lifted her chin. Her eyes flicked to Lewis for half a second—he gave the tiniest nod. Not reassurance but a promise. They passed the solar panel packaging section first. Long rows of half-sealed crates. Robotic arms hissed and re
DRAGGED OUT AGAIN!
Minutes later—the distant growl of engines rolled through the conglomerate walls, low and heavy, cutting beneath the mechanical hum. It grew louder, closer, until the sound of tires grinding against concrete echoed through the massive compound. Outside, two black Hilux trucks skidded to a stop. Doors flew open. Boots hit the ground. “Move! Move!” a voice barked. Emerson led the charge—broad-shouldered, thick-necked, his security jacket stretched tight across his frame. Four other men flanked him, all built, all moving with trained urgency. Their radios crackled as they pushed through the main entrance, eyes scanning, jaws set. “Phone assembling section,” Emerson said as they jogged. “That’s where they might be.” One of the men nodded. “Executives on edge. Must be serious.” Emerson slowed just enough to pull out his Lenovo phone. He thumbed the screen, lifted it to his ear while still walking. “Ma’am,” he said sharply, breath steady. “Confirm your exact position.” The line
THE MALE AND FEMALE EXECUTIVE
“Weren’t both of you the man and the old woman who claimed to be the rightful owners of this company last month?”The male executive said as he finally stopped in front of them. His voice carried over the steady hum of machinery—sharp, deliberate, meant to cut. “With no tangible evidence. The same pair who tried by all means to dig into what killed the late Martin Gordon. The ones we tagged as corporate spies. Aren’t you both them?” Lewis and Maria said nothing. The silence unsettled him. The executive’s lips pressed into a thin line as he took a half step closer. His eyes moved slowly between them—Lewis’s calm, unflinching stare; Maria’s composed stillness—measuring bone structure, posture, resemblance. Recognition settled in his expression like a verdict already reached. “Both of you must be them,” he continued. “The resemblance is clear enough. Leave now! Unless I will call the three executives who know you far better than I do.” He paused, letting the threat breathe. “Or ev
WHERE'S ABIGAIL CHEN?
“Where’s Abigail Chen?” he asked again.The worker stiffened.He glanced over his shoulder first, then to his colleague, then back at Lewis. His voice dropped to a careful whisper.“She was fired last month,” he said. “Right after the last time you and your mother came here.”Lewis didn’t blink. “Why?”The man swallowed. His fingers tightened around the packaged chip in his hands.“Because she defended you,” he said quietly. “That day on this production floor. She exposed what actually killed Mr. Martin Gordon. And also because she openly said that you were the rightful heir of Gordon Technologies.”Maria’s breath caught.Lewis’s jaw hardened, but his voice stayed level. “And that was enough?”The worker hesitated, then nodded.“The three executives—especially the female one—they were furious. They said Abigail supported you without ‘proper evidence.’ They accused her of leaking internal truths, of standing against corporate order.”He paused, eyes flicking toward the empty aisles.
GORDON TECHNOLOGIES
Minutes later, Maria came in from the kitchen. “I’ve prepared the breakfast,” she said gently. Lewis reached for the remote and lowered the plasma volume until the roar of the stadium faded into a muted background hum. He stood, rolling his shoulders once, then offered her a small nod. “Good timing.” They walked together into the dining room. Morning light filtered in through the tall windows, glinting off the polished table where breakfast waited—simple, filling, unmistakably Brooklyn. Plates of toasted bagels sat sliced and warm, their surfaces glossy with melted butter. A bowl of scrambled eggs rested beside smoked turkey bacon and grilled sausages. There was a small dish of cream cheese, another with sliced tomatoes and onions, and a basket of fresh fruit—apples and bananas still cool to the touch. Two bottles of chilled water beaded with condensation stood near the center. They sat calmly. Forks scraped softly and knives tapped ceramic. The normal sounds of eating felt
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