2025-07-26 13:55:30
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Cracks in His Empire
Back in Boston, inside the towering glass walls of Antonio DeLuca’s multimillion-dollar company, all hell had broken loose.The deal with a major investor was supposed to be closed by noon. Everything had been in place with months of planning, numbers vetted, contracts reviewed, handshakes exchanged. But in the span of fifteen minutes, the entire thing had collapsed.Antonio’s voice tore through the thirteenth floor. “Who the hell do they think they are?!”His office was in chaos. A chair lay on it’s side, papers everywhere, a vase in pieces by the wall.The tech team stood stiff near the doorway, too scared to blink. While his assistant, Jeffrey, struggled to keep up with him. “Sir, I’ve contacted his secretary and…” “I don’t give a damn about his secretary! That man sat in this room three days ago smiling in my face, smiling! And now he pulls out without warning?” Antonio swept his arm across the table again, knocking over his glass of whiskey he had abandoned earlier. “Find out
His Shocking Return
It had been six months since Xavier last stepped into Golden Oven. The smell hadn’t changed, yeast, sugar, and the faint, bitter noise of overworked machines. He walked in sharper than the last time, cleaner, calmer, and $200 million richer. But even that couldn’t erase the memory of his first day here. The humiliation still clung like flour on an apron.He spotted Tomi first, his cheekbones were still aggressive, and his ego hadn’t shrunk one bit. “Well, well, look who the dough dragged in,” he said, folding his arms, flour dust trailing off his apron. “You came back to spill another 30 bucks’ worth of ingredients, or you're just missing the broom closet where you were kept last time?”Xavier smiled faintly. “Good to see you too, Tomi.”Tomi smirked as Xavier stepped in, dressed in a sleek navy-blue suit that didn’t belong anywhere near flour or grease. Leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and apron dusted in flour, Tomi sized him up like he was inspecting day-old brea
The Ticket in the Pocket
The sound of distant traffic hummed through the cracked window. Xavier sat on the hotel bed, a half-empty glass of water in his hand, his eyes distant. His duffel bag lay on the floor, clothes spilling out from where he’d dumped them earlier.He reached for his leather jacket, the one he hadn’t worn in weeks and shook it out, ready to fold it properly. A piece of paper slipped from the inner pocket and floated to the floor.Xavier paused and then bent down and picked it up. It was a lottery ticket, his brow creased as he turned it over. “Power Jackpot,” it read. The draw date was three days ago.He stood frozen for a moment. “How the hell did this get in here?”Just then, Amber stepped in, carrying grocery bags. “I got us more food,” she said lightly. “Are you sure you don’t want to step out? You’ve been in this room for days. A little sunlight won’t kill you.”He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he raised the ticket slowly. “Did you put this in my jacket?”Amber blinked.
Help Comes at a Cost
“He’s gone.”Those two words hit Xavier like a sledgehammer to the chest. “No, it cannot be,” he muttered. “No. Say something else. Say he’s in a coma. Say he’s…say you made a mistake. What do you mean he's gone?”The doctor shook his head gently, but firmly. “I’m sorry.”Xavier stared at him, breathing unevenly. Then he laughed. It was a dry, disbelieving sound. “You’re joking, right? You have to be joking. Chris is strong. You said we just needed to wait. You said...” His voice cracked.Amber, standing behind him, covered her mouth. Her knees wobbled, but she stood still, frozen, staring at the doctor like her mind refused to translate what she’d just heard. “He didn’t make it,” the doctor said quietly. “The tumour ruptured. The bullet and the blood loss, it triggered everything we were trying to contain.”Xavier stumbled back a step. “You should’ve done the damn surgery earlier!” “We couldn’t. You need to understand that his body wasn’t stable enough.” “Don’t give me t
Who's Boss Now?
The warehouse stank of damp concrete and rotting metal, but that wasn't the worst of it.The worst was the scent of blood. Her blood seeping from the wound in her leg. Celeste’s breathing was shallow, her lips cracked, her shirt glued to her skin with sweat and dried blood. Her vision blurred every few seconds, and the fever was settling in.She was tied to a steel chair in the middle of the warehouse, lit only by one flickering overhead bulb.Then came the heavy, taunting sound of footsteps she knew by heart.Antonio.His silhouette appeared in the doorway, tall and smug. He was eating an apple slowly and loudly. “Well, well…” Antonio said, dragging a stool across the concrete floor, the legs screeching like nails on a chalkboard. He stopped in front of her, his shadow swallowing the dim light around her battered body. “The great Celeste. Finally out of tricks.”Celeste lifted her head, blood crusted around her mouth, her hair matted to her face. But her eyes still burned with fire
Let The Battle Begin
Xavier paced the sterile hospital corridor, his fists clenched, jaw tight. The smell of antiseptic clung to everything, but it couldn’t erase the blood from his memory. Chris's blood.He ran his hand through his hair for the tenth time. The waiting was killing him, no one came out to say anything and every nurse he turned to asked him to keep calm. But calm was the least thing on his mind right now.A doctor finally stepped out from the ICU, removing his gloves slowly. Xavier rushed over. “How is he?”The doctor’s face was unreadable as he looked up from the clipboard in his hand. “He’s alive,” he said at last. “But just barely. The bullet struck a vital spot near his shoulder. He lost a significant amount of blood.”Xavier let out a shaky breath, shoulders sagging with relief. “So... that’s good news, right? I mean, he’s going to make it. He has to. When can I see him?But the doctor didn’t move. Instead, he flipped the page on the clipboard, hesitating for a moment. “There’s s
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