2025-08-25 18:48:59
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Chapter one hundred and Eleven
Nathan had always known the weight of legacy could crush a man, but tonight the pressure pressed heavier than the ache in his injured leg.The message still flickered across his phone screen: “Time is running out. Your father’s fate depends on your decision.”It wasn’t just a threat—it was a calculated performance, staged to tighten the noose around Nathan’s resolve.Yet beneath the surface panic, Nathan held something Liam didn’t know: the tracker’s report. The villa, tucked behind those iron gates, had betrayed itself with deliveries and power spikes. It wasn’t much, but it was a starting point.He traced the floor plan on the desk with his fingertip, lips pressed tight. “If I can keep him believing the negotiations are real, he’ll slip. And when he does…” Nathan’s voice trailed off, but the determination in his eyes sharpened like steel.From the window, Cassandra watched him in silence. Her reflection in the glass seemed almost ghostly, her brow creased with worry. She had argued
Chapter one hundred and ten
The video spread like a virus.Not thirty minutes after dawn, Nathan’s phone buzzed incessantly with alerts, news outlets, gossip blogs, investors’ groups, even political commentators sharing the same cryptic clip. The image was grainy, shot in dim light: Mr. Hayes, hunched in a chair, his wrists tied, his head drooping as if each breath weighed a ton. A blurred voiceover, Liam’s unmistakable sneer masked by distortion, taunted, “The empire collapses when its pillars rot. Fifty-one percent for a man’s life. You have until sundown.”Nathan stood frozen before the television in the mansion’s lounge, his reflection ghosted across the screen. His father’s frail figure flickered there — not dead, not gone, but humiliated, displayed like some grotesque exhibit. His jaw clenched until the muscles ached. Rage pressed hot against his ribs, yet beneath it lay a sharper edge: fear.The markets reacted instantly. Hayes Telecom’s stock line dipped red as analysts speculated, spinning theories that
Chapter one hundred and nine
The next morning, Cassandra had scarcely left Nathan side. The staff moved like whispers through the corridors, each one watching the clock, each one afraid of what Liam’s next move would bring.It came just after dawn.The phone rang, a simple vibration against polished oak, but the weight of it was crushing. Nathan answered, jaw clenched, and Cassandra leaned close enough to hear. No words, this time—only another video file, transmitted with chilling efficiency.When Nathan opened it, the room filled with the sound of torment.Mr. Hayes lay slumped in a chair, his face bruised, his breaths ragged. A hand—Liam’s—tilted his chin toward the camera. “Time is slipping, Nathan,” Liam’s voice hissed. “Your father’s strength is slipping with it. Make the trade. Fifty-one percent, and this ends.”Then the screen went black.Behind them, Marjorie had been watching. She gasped, one hand clutching her chest, the other reaching toward the phone as though she could pull her brother out of it.“No
Chapter one hundred and eight
The chandelier in the Hayes mansion’s study cast fractured light across the oak-paneled walls, but Nathan sat in its shadow. His leg ached from the old injury—a dull, insistent throb that seemed to worsen whenever he tried to think clearly. Stacks of contracts and draft proposals littered the desk before him, yet his eyes were fixed not on the numbers but on the memory of his father’s face in Liam’s video—bloodied, half-conscious, pleading.Forty-eight hours. Already a day had passed. Time was slipping.But still he told himself: no surrender.Across the room, Cassandra watched him with quiet intensity. She had spent the morning combing through encrypted records, following faint trails Liam thought buried. And she had found something: proof of the villa’s ownership buried under layers of shell companies, finally linking it to Liam’s shadow network. A location—remote, coastal, nearly unreachable without notice.Her first instinct had been to rush the document into Nathan’s hands. But t
Chapter one hundred and Seven
The phone buzzed sharply on Nathan’s bedside table. Cassandra, seated beside him, frowned as she picked it up. “It’s from an unknown number,” she said, her voice low. She hesitated, glancing at Nathan, then tapped the screen to open the message.The video loaded instantly. Nathan’s breath caught, his stomach twisting before the screen even fully loaded. The first frame revealed his father, Mr. Hayes, on his knees in the dimly lit villa. His shirt was torn, and blood smeared across his face. He looked terrified, vulnerable, and wholly human—far from the strong, commanding figure Nathan knew.“Liam…” Nathan muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around the edge of the chair.The video played. Liam’s voice was calm but menacing. “Time is short, Nathan. Forty-eight hours. Your father suffers because of your stubbornness. You own fifty-one percent of Hayes Telecom, and if you value your empire—or your father—you will transfer the shares. Fail, and I can promise… this will only g
Chapter One hundred and Six
Nathan sat propped against the velvet cushions of the Hayes mansion’s grand library, one leg elevated on a stool, his face pale but resolute. The pain in his leg throbbed steadily, a sharp reminder of the bullets that had nearly derailed everything. Yet, even as sweat dotted his forehead and his fingers clenched the armrest, his mind refused to surrender to weakness. His father, Mr. Hayes, was out there—likely terrified and alone—and Nathan’s determination to bring him back was the only thing keeping the agony at bay.Cassandra moved quietly by his side, her presence both reassuring and tense. She had insisted on overseeing his recovery personally, her sharp hands now wrapped around his leg, adjusting the bandages and checking the swelling. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” she said, her voice laced with worry, though her dark eyes softened each time they met his. “You need to heal first. You won’t get your father back if you collapse before you even start the chase.”Nathan winced
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