2025-08-26 15:40:48Following a tipoff from Tape and Lily that the kidnapped Senator Greek could be linked to his in-law’s shady business. And somewhere in the city, someone was still walking free after framing him for murder.
Victor landed in Washington DC the following day. He reached the estate walkway just as Vera stepped out, dressed like God's architecture; Lord and Madame Hartwell followed, their voices trailing off in laughter until they saw him.
Vera’s eyes narrowed. “Victor?”
Madame Hartwell scoffed. “Good heavens, what is that doing on our property?”
Lord Hartwell frowned at the nuisance.
Vera stepped back as if she was escaping an infection.
“You look like you sleep under bridges now.”
He said nothing.
Lord Hartwell stepped down toward him. “The last time you were in this city, there was a murder. You ran. Coward. I should call the authorities right now.”
Victor stared at the people who once smiled at him through champagne toasts and wedding vows. If only they now knew his true status.
His next stop was at a towering building of Argon Crest Realty, a multimillion-dollar real estate empire owned by him; but no one knew he owned the company, not even the arrogant staff.
He was disguised as a poor janitor with a creaky Mercedes which often broke down in transit.
Inside the lobby, the receptionist looked up and hissed a long, slow disappointing hiss.
“Janitorial crew?” she asked flatly.
Victor gave a tired nod. “Day shift.”
“Basement. Third door on the left and please don’t touch anything important, your salary wouldn't cover it”
At noon, the real show began.
The boardroom was prepared for a sponsorship presentation, an opportunity for investors to pitch ideas to the real estate executives. Victor stood quietly in the back of the hall, mop in hand, uniform stained intentionally.
When Vera and her British lover boy, Lincoln, strolled into the hall, heads turned in admiration and envy.
“We’re here to speak with your managing director. Mr. Owen,” Vera said, flipping her hair.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s expecting you,” the receptionist replied.
Victor remained unnoticed near the corner, emptying a trash can into his rolling bin.
Then, Lord Hartwell entered, muttering angrily into his phone. Victor caught a few words, something about a contract glitch and funds being frozen. Lord Hartwell looked stressed, far more fragile than his usual steel demeanor. Clearly, something wasn’t adding up in his financial empire.
Victor smirked quietly.
Inside the boardroom, the manager greeted Vera and Lincoln with a wide smile. “Lord Hartwell’s recommendation means a lot,” he said warmly. “If your proposal checks out, I believe we’ll have something good.”
Vera beamed.
Just then, Victor pushed in a trolley of bottled water and glasses. As he placed them around the table, Lincoln squinted.
“Wait... isn’t that...?” he whispered.
Vera turned and blinked.
It was him, Victor, mopping the boardroom.
For a moment, shame took her on a pilgrimage, then she burst out laughing.
“Oh my God,” she said, loud enough for the entire room. “Victor? You’re mopping floors now? In this place?”
Derrick chuckled too. “From Chief Security to janitor. That’s... quite the fall, man.”
Victor said nothing.
Lord Hartwell joined in, stepping beside them. “Let’s not waste time talking about garbage. Let’s talk about the deal we came for.”
The entire room echoed with laughter as Victor dutifully rolled his trolley to the back.
As Vera mounted the podium, he stood by the corner, his mind racing, every file, every investor, every deal being discussed was part of his empire. He watched how they pleaded for money, unaware they were pitching to the man holding the keys to the vault.
Outside in the hallway, Tape and Lily were causing a scene at the vending machine.
“Why does the damn thing give me sparkling water instead of soda?!” Tape yelled.
Lily hit the machine. “This is a scam, I tell you! A capitalist conspiracy!”
As the boardroom presentation continued, Victor stood quietly outside the door watching as Nemesis prime’s voice rose with dramatic flair as she pitched her luxury condo idea.
“We envision a smart estate with AI-assisted security, energy-efficient rooftops, and imported marble from Spain. Our clients will be the crème de la crème,” she gushed.
Victor was unimpressed. He knew that every number she quoted was inflated. Her cost projections were a joke. He remembered the old Vera, the one who couldn’t keep track of their utility bills but wanted Gucci plates.
Lincoln backed her up with buzzwords like “urban renewal,” “investment horizon,” “projected ROI.” Empty beautiful phrases.
Victor leaned against the glass. These two were like wind-up dolls, dancing for coins.
After the presentation, Victor headed to the underground garage for a moment of quiet. Tape and Lily were scrolling through TikTok on mute.
Lily glanced at him. “You okay? Heard some witch was dragging your name through the dirt again.”
“Bruh,” Tape said without looking up, “When are you gonna tell them this is all yours?”
Victor sank onto a crate beside them. “Not yet. I want to expose Lord Hartwell, Find the Senator and expose who framed me”
Tape whistled. “Deep.”
Just then, a Notification buzzed:
Transaction alert – Asset updated. Argon Crest Realty board documents signed by proxy. Lord Hartwell and Vera.
Victor exhaled. Things were moving faster than expected.
Another buzz. A text from Kate:
“Are you okay? It’s been ages. I miss you.”
He read it twice before locking the phone. His emotions were a mess. She had given him riches, and Isabella gave him life. Two women, One healed his body, the other changed his fate.
And both women demanded different versions of him.
Just then, the elevator dinged and voices spilled out.
It was Vera and Lord Hartwell, with Lincoln trailing behind.
“Didn’t I tell you that Victor was always beneath you?” Lord Hartwell sneered as they entered the garage. “That boy was never going to be anything.”
Vera scoffed. “Now he’s mopping floors in a building he probably can’t afford to pee in.”
“I can't wait to tweet about it: Ex-Husband turns janitor after marriage crashes.” Vera laughed.
Vera, as he had once said, was a sick bomb.
They entered their SUV and screeched out of the garage.
Like a drop of sanity, an idea struck him, the type that makes you feel like Einstein. He leaned over to Lily and Tape and began talking.
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CHAPTER 173
"Read it," Peterson urged, his voice breaking slightly. "Read what they're saying about her, Master West. Read the lies they're already spreading. See how they're trying to control the narrative, to shape public perception before anyone can ask the real questions."Victor Langeston West forced his eyes to focus on the text below the headline, made himself read even though every instinct was screaming at him to throw the paper away, to refuse to accept what it was telling him. His eyes tracked across the lines of print, each sentence landing like a physical blow.Abigail Clark, 34, an investigative journalist previously employed by the Metropolitan Tribune before her dismissal last year, was discovered early this morning in a motel room on the outskirts of the city, suffering from multiple gunshot wounds. Police report that Ms. Clark was found by motel staff during a routine room check after she failed to respond to wake-up calls.Multiple gunshot wounds.Not one shot fired in panic du
CHAPTER 172
"Master West…" Peterson immediately interrupted."It's actually about Ms Abigail Clark." Peterson immediately said, his voice reeking with shock and bewilderment.Victor Langeston West immediately sat up from his bed, his laptop still in his hand, the research documents about dismantling the Hartwell empire suddenly seeming insignificant compared to whatever news Peterson was bringing. His heart had already begun to accelerate, that primal instinct that warned of danger before the conscious mind could fully process what was happening."What about her?" Victor Langeston West asked, his voice tight with sudden apprehension. A cold dread was already beginning to form in the pit of his stomach, the kind of premonition that came from having spent too many years surrounded by danger and loss. It was the same feeling he'd had the night his father died, the same sick certainty that something terrible had happened and his life was about to change forever."Did something bad happen to her?" Vic
CHAPTER 171
Victor Langeston West immediately stared at Nanny Louis and replied almost immediately."She stays hidden until we're ready to move," Victor Langeston West immediately said."Once we start filing lawsuits, submitting evidence to authorities, going public with accusations at that point, her safety actually increases because she becomes a known quantity. Right now, while everything is secret, she's vulnerable. But once it's public, killing her serves no purpose. The evidence is out there, she's testified, the damage is done.""Unless they kill her for revenge," Mr. Freeman pointed out darkly."Which is why we'll arrange protection for her when the time comes," Victor said. "Safe house, security detail, everything necessary. But first, we need to verify her evidence and build our cases. We can't protect her effectively until we're ready to act, and we can't act until we know exactly what we're working with."He immediately looked at each of them in turn. "I won't lie to you. This is dang
CHAPTER 170
Abigail Clark immediately smiled at Victor Langston West, something she hadn't done since she had arrived at the West family mansion."I'll do my best," she said. Then, with a final nod, she turned and walked through the gates, disappearing into the darkness beyond with the kind of practiced stealth that came from months of hiding.Victor Langeston West immediately watched her go, his hand unconsciously closing around the USB drive in his pocket. Then he activated the gate controls, watching as the iron barriers swung shut again, sealing off the estate from the outside world.But even as the gates closed, Victor Langeston West knew that something fundamental had changed tonight. For years, he'd been planning, preparing, gathering resources, but without a clear path to actually destroying the Hartwells. Now he had that path. Now he had the ammunition he needed.The war was about to begin.He turned and walked back toward the mansion, his mind already racing with plans and strategies.
CHAPTER 169
"They're probably concerned about how long you've been here," Victor Langeston West immediately said. "The longer you stay, the greater the risk of the Hartwells somehow learning about this meeting.""I know. I should go soon. But Master West, I need to know—are you in? Are you willing to work with me to bring down the Hartwells? I need to hear you say it clearly because once we start this, there's no backing out. For either of us."Victor Langeston West looked at her intently, this brave, damaged, determined woman who had risked everything in pursuit of justice.Then he looked out beyond the gates, toward the darkness that held both danger and opportunity."Before I give you my final answer," Victor Langeston West immediately said slowly, "I need to ask a few more questions. About you, about your motivations, about whether I can truly trust you with something this important.""Ask anything," Abigail immediately said."First—and to be completely honest—is there any possibility that
CHAPTER 168
For the first time, Abigail Clark's professional mask slipped slightly, revealing something more personal underneath. "I wanted to tell stories that mattered. I wanted to expose injustice, to give voice to people who couldn't advocate for themselves. Journalism seemed like a way to do that, to be a watchdog, to hold powerful people accountable, to make a difference.""And was it? Did journalism live up to that ideal?” Victor Langston West immediately asked, his voice was laced with a mixture of authority and determination as he asked."Sometimes," Abigail Clark said quietly. "When I was allowed to do real journalism, yes. I broke stories about local corruption, about environmental violations, about consumer fraud.”“Small stories, mostly, but they mattered. They resulted in changes in accountability. That's what I thought working for Hartwell Media would be, a chance to do investigative journalism on a bigger scale, with more resources and a wider reach.""Instead, you found yourself
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