2025-02-24 17:54:45Damien smirked, leaning casually against the counter like this was just another show for his amusement.
"He's lying," Damien said as the policeman was about to give Silas the phone to call, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Whatever sob story he’s cooking up, it’s pathetic. Probably stole that card off someone who actually matters." Silas glared but stayed silent. It was obvious his words didn’t seem to matter here. The double doors to the lobby swung open. A man in a sharp suit strode in, exuding authority. His presence alone silenced the murmurs in the room. “What’s going on here?” His baritone voice was calm but carried weight. The kind of voice that didn’t need to yell to command attention. The receptionist perked up, straightening her posture. “Mr. Whitman! Thank goodness you’re here.” “Explain,” Whitman said, his eyes scanning the scene. The receptionist gestured at Silas, her tone laced with disdain. “This man tried to book a room using a stolen card. We called security, and they caught him before he could cause more trouble.” Silas scoffed, the sound bitter. “Stolen? I didn’t steal anything, that card is mine! This isn’t security—it’s bullying.” Whitman turned his gaze to Silas, studying him for a moment. “Your card, you say?” He asked him after a few seconds of silence. “Yes,” Silas said firmly. “And if this is how your staff treats guests, I regret ever stepping foot in here.” Whitman’s face remained neutral as he shifted his attention back to the receptionist. “Do you have any proof of this accusation?” The receptionist blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Well, he-he-he doesn’t look like someone who would have a card like that.” She stammered already under pressure. “And Damien here—he vouched for the fact that this man’s a known thief.” The receptionist quickly added trying to redeem herself. Whitman raised an eyebrow. “Damien?” Damien stepped forward, his smirk unwavering. “That’s right. I know Silas. He’s nothing but a low-life who’s been leeching off others for years. Trust me, I’ve seen it firsthand. There’s no way on earth that he can own such a card.” Silas’s fists clenched tighter. “You don’t know anything about me, Damien.” Whitman held up a hand, silencing them both. “Let’s stick to the facts. What concrete evidence do you have that this card doesn’t belong to him?” The receptionist stammered, looking between Whitman and Damien for support. “I—I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Just look at him!” Whitman’s gaze hardened. “So, none. You have no proof, no evidence whatsoever, only assumptions?” The receptionist faltered, her confidence crumbling. “Well, no, but—” “No buts,” Whitman interrupted. He turned to the guards. “And you? You’ve pinned this man to the ground based on baseless accusations? Without making investigations and due diligence?” The guards exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. Whitman’s tone grew sharper. “You’re officers of the law. Your job is to uphold justice, and make sure the rights of citizens are protected, not do the opposite and participate in mob behavior. Do better.” Damien let out a low chuckle. “With all due respect, Mr. Whitman, you’re being too kind. Silas is playing you. He’s good at it. Probably got a sob story ready to go if you’d like to hear it.” Whitman ignored him. He turned to the receptionist. “You’re fired. Effective immediately. The next time I see you set foot here will land you in jail.” Her eyes widened. “Sir, please—” “Leave,” Whitman said coldly. Damien stepped forward, indignation flashing across his face. “You’re seriously going to take his side? Over me? Do you even know who I am?” “I do,” Whitman said with a demeaning look on his face. “And you’re no longer welcome in my hotel. Leave, or I’ll have security escort you out.” Damien opened his mouth to argue but stopped when Whitman’s icy gaze landed on him. He sneered, muttered something under his breath, and stormed out. Whitman then addressed the officers. “Your services are no longer required here. I suggest you reconsider how you handle similar situations in the future. A call from me to your boss can permanently relieve you of your duties.” The officers released Silas and left without another word, clearly embarrassed. Whitman adjusted his cuffs, his calm demeanor returning. “Mr. Silas, I apologize for this unfortunate incident.” Silas blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. “You believe me?” “I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt,” Whitman said. “And I don’t tolerate injustice in my establishment.” Silas hesitated. “Thank you.” Whitman nodded. “As an apology, I’d like to offer you a stay in our best suite. It’s on the house.” Silas’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to do that.” “I insist,” Whitman said with a small smile. “Consider it our way of making amends.” “Also you can have this back.” He handed the green card back to Silas. Silas exhaled slowly, the weight on his chest finally lifting. “Alright. Thank you.” As Whitman gestured for another staff member to assist Silas, the lobby slowly returned to its usual calm. But for Silas, this was more than a simple resolution. It was a reminder that even in the darkest moments, justice could prevail. Maybe not everything was rigged against him
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The next morning, Silas stood at the grand gates of the sprawling estate. The towering iron structure loomed over him, intricate patterns carved into its surface. Behind it lay the heart of the clan he had never known. “This is it,” Silas muttered, gripping the strap of his bag. The butler, a composed man with a graying beard, approached him. “Young Master, they’re waiting.” Silas swallowed hard. The term still felt foreign, like a coat that didn’t quite fit. But he nodded, stepping through the gates and into a world that felt like it belonged to someone else. The estate was massive—manicured lawns, fountains that sparkled under the sun, and a mansion that seemed to stretch endlessly. Inside, the halls were just as grand, with chandeliers casting soft light on marble floors. They entered a room filled with people. Conversations halted as heads turned. Silas felt their eyes on him—some curious, others cold. A few older women whispered behind their hands, their disapproval
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The phone buzzed in Silas’s pocket as he was stepping out of the company’s headquarters. He frowned, pulling it out and glancing at the screen. Unknown number. His thumb hovered over the decline button, but something about the timing made him pause. With a sigh, he answered. “Hello?” “Mr. Silas?” a hurried voice asked on the other end. “This is Mercy Hospital. Your contact information is listed as the emergency number for Mrs. Lilian Lawson. She’s been in a car accident. We need your immediate presence.” Silas froze mid-step. Lilian? His ex-wife? The name felt like a punch to the gut, bringing with it a rush of old memories he’d buried deep. “Is she…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is she okay?” “She’s stable but critical,” the nurse explained. “She needs surgery, and we require your consent to proceed.” Silas gripped the phone tightly, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’ll be there,” he said firmly, already moving toward the garage. “Than
The Lost Heir: Trials of an Empire Reclaimed Chapter 010
Victoria’s eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Who—who is this?” she stammered, her tone laced with disbelief, her eyes failing to comprehend what was before her.Samuel narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you have drivers?” Silas didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to Victoria. “I’ll leave now. Take care of her. Her health is of paramount concern.” “Wait!” Victoria barked. “You don’t just get to walk away! We’re not done here!” He walked out, paying no attention to the words being barked at him, the chauffeur falling into step beside him. The Lawson family remained frozen in place, their stunned silence a bittersweet victory. Outside, a sleek black car idled at the curb. The chauffeur stepped out behind him immediately, bowing slightly as he opened the door. “Straight to the company, sir?” “Yes.” Silas slid into the car, settling into the plush leather seat. As the car pulled away, he let out a shaky breath, his mind racing, struggling to p
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Silas stepped out of the sleek black car and ascended the grand staircase of the estate—a mansion that stood as a silent sentinel of his newfound status. Earlier that day, during an introduction to the clan, the butler had mentioned the penthouse as his sanctuary should he please. Now, as the twilight deepened, Silas found himself on the threshold of a realm reserved for the elite—a realm that would define the next chapter of his life.The penthouse door swung open with a whisper of hydraulics, revealing an expanse so magnificent that it almost took Silas’s breath away. Every inch of the space screamed opulence: marble floors inlaid with intricate mosaic patterns, walls adorned with rare art from around the globe, and vast windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, offering an uninterrupted view of the glittering city below. The state-of-the-art technology was seamlessly integrated into the decor—hidden speakers that filled the air with a subtle, ambient melody, smart glass tha
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The first rays of the morning sun filtered through a narrow opening in the window, gently caressing Silas’s face and coaxing him from sleep. He stirred slowly, a soft smile playing on his lips as he recalled the previous night—a night of deep introspection and unexpected solace in the lavish solitude of his penthouse. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he had slept with his burdens lifted, wrapped in the gentle embrace of a newfound freedom.As he sat up in his king-sized bed, the luxurious linens whispering against his skin, the gentle thud of footsteps in the corridor broke the silence. A crisp, measured knock echoed through the room. “Good morning, young master,” a familiar, refined voice greeted from behind the door.Silas paused, collecting his thoughts and the remnants of his dreams, and then rose to his feet. He walked to the door and swung it open, his eyes meeting the steady, respectful gaze of the butler. Behind him stood a group of five individuals, each
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The ride back to the car was quiet, the glow of the skyscraper’s conference room still lingering in Silas’s mind as he sank into the plush leather seat beside the butler. The city whirled by outside in a blur of early evening lights, each moment a reminder of how far he had come. The butler broke the silence, his voice low and filled with genuine admiration. “Young master, your performance in the meeting was nothing short of masterful,” he said, his tone both sincere and respectful. “Your composure and insight truly turned the tide. You navigated the discussion with a clarity that left no doubt—you are the true heir of the Lancaster family.”Silas offered a small, humble smile. “Thank you. It feels as though every step forward is a step away from the past,” he replied quietly, his eyes reflecting both relief and resolve.The butler’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Indeed, sir. And tonight, we have one final stop to mark the beginning of this new chapter.”Curiosity sparked in Si
The Lost Heir: Trials of an Empire Reclaimed Chapter 015
The final strains of laughter and music from the Smith estate still echoed in Silas’s mind as the G-Wagon glided through the quiet streets. Isaac, the chauffeur, eased the vehicle into motion, and Silas sank back into the sumptuous leather seat, savoring the last remnant of celebration’s warmth. Beside him, Charles—the butler—sat with an inscrutable expression, his posture perfectly straight despite the late hour.Before Silas could speak, Charles’s phone buzzed quietly in his jacket pocket. He glanced down at the screen, then looked up with a subtle shift in his gaze. “Young master,” he said softly, “I’ve just received word from the patriarch. His request is urgent: we are to proceed directly to the family mansion.”Silas’s pulse quickened at the implication of an unexpected summons. “Right away?” he asked, astonished but ready to obey.Charles inclined his head. “His tone was insistent. Please inform Isaac of the change in destination.”Isaac acknowledged with a slight nod and gu
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Chapter 036
Moonlight slanted through broken windows of the abandoned warehouse, casting fractured beams across the cracked concrete floor. The two black jeeps skidded to a halt on the gravel outside. A ragged chain-link fence, its barbed wire twisted and rusted, marked the property’s perimeter. Inside, moonlight revealed peeling paint, graffiti-scrawled walls, and the skeletal shells of long-abandoned machinery.Two masked men yanked Silas Lancaster from the rear seat of one jeep. He slumped between them, still groggy from the blow to his neck. They dragged him across the littered floor, the soles of his dress shoes scraping against shattered glass. The warehouse doors groaned as they pushed him into the main chamber.A third man grabbed Silas’s arms and forced him into a scarred metal chair bolted to the ground. His legs dangled, wrists pulled tight behind the chair’s narrow backrest. The cold metal bit into his skin through his suit. “Wake him,” the first kidnapper growled. They poured
Chapter 035
Silas settled deeper into the backseat of the sleek black sedan, the night air cool against his skin as the city’s neon lights flickered past. His chauffeur, Isaac, guided them along the quiet boulevard with practiced ease. Silas closed his eyes for a moment, letting the hum of the engine soothe him after a long day at the office.Then, around a sharp bend, two rugged jeeps screeched to a halt across the road. Isaac slammed on the brakes, tires chirping in protest, and the car nearly lurched forward before coming to an abrupt stop inches from the jeep’s grille.Before Silas could react, seven figures in dark clothing and featureless masks poured out of the jeeps, brandishing wooden planks and metal rods. The leader—a tall man with a scar running down one cheek visible beneath his mask—stepped forward. He raised a plank overhead and pointed directly at Silas.“You fraud! Imposter!” the leader hissed. “We’ve got a package for you!”In an instant, the masked men charged. Isaac threw
Chapter 034
Moonlight pooled across Mat’s sprawling penthouse study, illuminating sleek bookshelves and the glint of city lights through floor-to-ceiling windows. Yet the room’s luxury offered him no comfort. He paced in erratic figure‐eights across the marble floor, irritation knotting his shoulders.“Why did she have to be the one to come and sign the documents?” he snarled to the empty room, voice rough with disbelief. “Of all people…” His shoes clicked against the stone as he strode, turned, and strode again. Earlier that day, he’d slipped into Silas Lancaster’s office to assist with pending contracts—his usual role as right hand to the heir. He’d expected formalities, handshakes, the routine press of paper. Instead, he’d found her standing across the desk: Elena Rogers, head of the Rogers NGO. Her steely poise, the grace of her greeting—yet she had refused to acknowledge him beyond a curt nod. Mat ran a hand through his hair. “Elena…” he whispered. The memory struck him like a physica
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Elena Rogers sat at her polished oak desk in the Rogers NGO headquarters, sunlight filtering through tall windows and dancing across the rows of binders stationed neatly on chrome shelves. She’d spent the morning reviewing grant applications, fine-tuning budget projections, and fielding emails from field officers in three different time zones. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she drafted an upbeat progress report—until her wrist begged for pause. With a decisive click, she minimized her screen and leaned back in her ergonomic chair, eyes closed for a moment’s respite. The hum of the server cluster in the corner, the soft tread of assistants on the carpeted floor, even the distant murmur of a late-morning staff meeting—all of it faded into the background as she let her shoulders relax. At that instant, her phone buzzed insistently on the desk. The caller ID glowed with a name that always made her heart skip a beat: “Sandra.”A smile bloomed across her face before she eve
Chapter 032
Morning sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lawson Industries’ headquarters, illuminating the sleek steel desks and humming servers lining the open-plan office. The steady click of keyboards and low murmur of meetings formed the usual soundtrack of corporate life. Behind a polished mahogany desk in her corner office, Lilian Lawson stared at her monitor, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She’d thrown herself into a half-finished marketing proposal, determined to drown out the echoes of Silas Lancaster’s rise to prominence. Despite Damien’s reassurances—that Silas’s ascension was a contrived spectacle—her mind kept circling back to the possibility that it was all too real. Every headline, every blinking news ticker seemed to taunt her with Silas’s name. She exhaled and refocused on the spreadsheet before her when the door burst open. Lilian jerked upright as her younger brother, Derek, stormed in, laptop in hand, eyes wide with alarm. “What the hell?!”
Chapter 031
Silas Lancaster guided his sleek black sedan through the manicured gates of the Lancaster family estate. The late-morning sun glinted off the limestone façade of the mansion, throwing long shadows across the courtyard. He took a steadying breath, smoothing the lapels of his suit jacket. Today, he would visit his grandfather—the patriarch—in his private chambers. He stepped into the marble foyer. Crystal chandeliers refracted light into dancing patterns on polished floors. Yet the grandeur felt secondary when he noticed a cluster of elders gathered near a sweeping stairway, leaning in low over hushed conversation. As Silas approached, they fell silent, eyes flicking to him like hawks tracking prey. In their glances, he sensed disdain—spite hiding behind stiff collars and jeweled brooches. Silas’s chest tightened, but he refused to be distracted. “No matter,” he told himself, “I’m here for Grandfather. Can’t let myself be distracted by bitter elders.”He passed through the hall
Chapter 030
She laughed softly, reached for the handle, and paused to glance back at him once more before walking out. As she turned the door handle, she collided with Mat at the door.Elena Rogers stepping out, and Mat stepping in. They collided like two startled fencers. Elena’s cream blouse fluttered; Mat’s crisp shirt tilted askew. For a heartbeat, Mat’s brows knotted in irritation—until he realized who it was. His eyes widened, jaw slackening. “Elena?” he stammered, voice a mix of relief and surprise. Elena’s lips almost curved in a polite, almost a painful smile but she kept a straight face. She straightened, smoothing her slacks. She inclined her head ever so slightly—an acknowledgment, no more. Mat opened his mouth again, perhaps to speak, but Elena simply turned on her heel. Her gaze flicked toward Silas—warmth blossoming across her features. “Silas,” she said, her voice soft and bright. “Thank you for this morning. I’ll be in touch.” She gave him that same serene smile she
Chapter 029
The Lancaster Headquarters was already alive with movement and purpose. From the legal department to the financial wing, each corridor hummed with quiet energy. Keyboards clicked in rhythmic unison, phones buzzed intermittently, and clipped conversations filled the air as staff bustled with their morning tasks. Inside the sleek, spacious corner office on the top floor, Silas Lancaster was buried neck-deep in a maze of paperwork. His blazer was draped over the back of his chair, sleeves rolled up, tie slightly loosened. The early sun filtered through the massive glass windows behind him, casting a golden hue over the desk piled high with documents awaiting his attention. He reached for another file, eyes scanning numbers and legalese, when the soft creak of the door opening reached his ears. Without lifting his gaze, he sighed. “I really do not want to be disturbed this morning, Nancy,” he said flatly, assuming it was his PA again. “Good morning to you too.” The voice stop
Chapter 028
Moonlight poured through the floor‐to‐ceiling windows, illuminating the plush king‐size bed where Lilian and Damien lay locked in an embrace. Their bodies glistened with sweat as they moved together with a shared urgency, each touch sending sparks through them. Damien’s strong hands roamed Lilian’s curves, while she arched into him, breath hot against his neck.“God, Lilian,” he murmured between kisses, voice husky. “You feel incredible.”Her soft moan was answer enough. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he guided her with a confident rhythm. Their whispers and sighs filled the room: promises, confessions, gasps of pleasure. Damien’s breath grew ragged as he found that perfect cadence, and Lilian clung to him, nails light against his back.Then, with a rush of heat and release, they both reached that single, shattering moment. Damien’s arms tightened around Lilian as she cried out softly, and for a beat, time froze. They panted, foreheads pressed togeth
