2025-04-02 23:30:55
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PREPARING TO LEAVE RICHMOND
The house felt heavier than stone.Every hallway Marvin Richmond walked through seemed to echo louder, as if the walls themselves knew he was leaving. Paintings of his ancestors stared down at him, judgmental, silent, unblinking. For years this place had been the center of his battles, his victories, his scars. And now, he was putting it in order—one last time.At his desk in the high study, dusk pooled through the tall windows, spilling gold over stacks of papers, schematics, and maps of networks most of Westwood would never know existed. Alicia Richmond stood before him, a sleek notebook was open in her hands, her pen was poised like a blade ready to carve history into permanence.“Ready?” she asked softly.Marvin nodded. His voice was calm, steady, almost detached. “Begin.”She wrote quickly as he dictated.“Patent redistribution to subsidiary branches. Make sure our engineers hold majority shares. That way, no one outside Richmond can fracture what we built. The intelligence netw
THE SUMMONS OF THE COUNCIL
The summons arrived in silence. No messengers on horseback, no military escorts, no blaring announcements on city screens. Just a sealed black envelope delivered to Marvin Richmond’s residence, marked with the crest of eleven interwoven sigils—the seal of the Council of Elders.It was said that only once in a lifetime could a man be summoned before them, and even then, few survived the weight of it unchanged. To sit in their presence was the highest honor and the heaviest curse.Marvin stood on the Richmond mansion balcony as the envelope burned faintly in his hand. He had ensured the rebuilding of Richmond from ashes, fought through betrayal, declared reforms, and carved a thirty–year covenant around the Astralyte. Yet now, this—this felt heavier than every battlefield combined.The note had contained only six words.“The Hall of Continuum awaits you.”The motorcade was small and discreet, nothing like the grand parades that once carried his father. Marvin had refused more than two
A FATHER'S SHADOW
The Richmond Memorial Gardens were vast and solemn, a place where silence reigned louder than any voice. Sunlight spilled across polished marble walkways, reflecting against names carved into gleaming headstones. The air smelled faintly of trimmed grass and stone warmed by the afternoon sun.Marvin Richmond walked slowly, his shadow was long and sharp on the paved path. No much announcement, no escort, no enforcers followed him—only the weight of memory. The gardens were beautiful, but to him, they felt heavy, suffocating.He stopped before a black marble slab that rose taller than the others. The inscription gleamed in gold letters:Darien Richmond. Father. Lion of Dominion.Marvin’s jaw tightened. It was his father’s grave. Yes Darien Richmond (Mr Richmond) was his father and his grave stood pristine, draped in flowers from loyalists who still revered the man. But Marvin saw not the lion of legend—he saw the betrayer, the man who had broken his son with one final act of treachery
FAMILY BUSINESS, FAMILY BLOOD
The silence after the slaughter was unbearable.The banquet hall stank of gunpowder and blood. Bodies sprawled across the marble floor, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. The candles on the long table flickered weakly, their light dancing on shattered goblets and spilled wine that bled into the cracks of the stone.And yet, above that carnage, one sound still lingered.Marvin Richmond’s laughter.Dark. Cold. Relentless.It was not the laughter of a man amused, but of a man who already owned the end of this story. His voice rolled across the hall like thunder breaking in the night, and even the walls seemed to tremble beneath its weight.The conspirators—Rowan, Martha, and two trembling allies—stood frozen in that sound. Their weapons had been stripped away. Their Synapticore had been snuffed out. And now they had nothing left but shame and fear.Marvin rose from his chair with unhurried grace, his hand brushing the table as he stood. His gaze swept across them, sharp as the edge
THE BANQUET TRAP
The night was too still. Too silent.Rowan Richmond felt the weight of that silence as he stood in the abandoned wing of the estate, his cloak brushing against dust and stone. Around him, shadows shifted — the shapes of men and women who had followed him into treachery. Their faces carried one thing in common: hatred.Hatred for Marvin. Hatred for Alicia. Hatred for a Richmond family that had dared to rise again without their rightful patriarchs Mr Richmond and Daniel Richmond when they should have crumbled. Hatred for Marvin who was responsible for the death of both patriarchs.Rowan’s jaw tightened as he spoke. His voice was low, sharp as a blade.“Tonight we cut the head from the snake. Marvin Richmond will not leave this estate alive. Nor will that witch Alicia who dares call herself leader. We end this now.”The conspirators muttered their approval, eyes glinting with malice. But the figure who stepped forward next silenced them all.Martha.Her beauty had faded into something h
THE PRIVATE STORM
The chamber fell into a hush when Alicia stepped back from the window. For a moment, her eyes lingered on Marvin and Stella — husband, wife, and child in the glow of light. She knew the conversation that awaited them did not need her presence.She bowed her head lightly. “I will leave you to rest, Marvin. The people still need guidance outside, and I should begin answering them. My duty has already begun.”Marvin gave her a tired smile. “Thank you, Alicia. You have carried us quietly for years. Now you carry us openly. I trust you completely.”Her lips trembled faintly, though her expression remained composed. With one last glance at Stella and baby Lucian, Alicia excused herself. The heavy doors closed softly behind her, and the air in the chamber shifted.Now, it was only family.Stella rose slowly from her chair, swaying baby Lucian gently in her arms. His tiny fist gripped her necklace, his breaths were slow and steady against her chest. She hummed a quiet tune — a lullaby her mot
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