2025-04-29 19:02:10Moonlight 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 physical blow. Her eyes had flicked away from his, focusing on Silas with warm attentiveness. That simple act stung worse than any harsh word. He paused beside his desk, retrieving his phone. Scrolling through old photo albums unlocked a flood of memories: smiles at charity galas, late‐night strategy sessions, the way her hair fell when she leaned in close. There was the shot of them at the summer festival—him in linen, her in a flowing sundress, both laughing as fireworks mirrored in their eyes. As Mat swiped, the present blurred into the past, and the screen’s glow gave way to a flashback—months ago, before ambition and betrayal had driven them apart. --- **FLASHBACK** Elena and Mat sat together on a bench in the NGO’s rooftop garden, twilight wrapping the city in lavender hues. She leaned into him, her hand brushing his knee. **Elena (softly):** “You’re amazing, Mat. I couldn’t do any of this without you.” Mat cupped her cheek, thumbs warm against her skin. “Neither could I. You challenge me to be better.” As they kissed, the world seemed to hush around them. But later, in the glow of streetlights, Mat’s phone buzzed with a message from his corporate handler—a confidential tip about a competitor’s internal plea bargain. Temptation sparkled in his eyes. He glanced to the side, heart pounding. Elena was resident director, trusting him with every nuance of her plans. And yet… A week later, in her sunlit office, Elena confronted him. **Elena (hurt):** “I found out you leaked my project proposal to Lancaster Industries. You used my connections to get ahead.” Mat’s eyes widened, guilt surfacing. “El, it was a business move—strategic. I thought I could help both sides.” Elena’s voice shook. “You betrayed my trust. I opened my life to you—and you sold me out.” Mat reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I… I only wanted to impress you.” Elena (pulling away): “Impress me? You lied to me. I can’t do this anymore.” She stood, eyes tearing. “I loved you, Mat. But I won’t be second to your ambition.” Then she turned, her heels clicking down the corridor—leaving him alone among the echoes of his mistake. --- **END FLASHBACK** Mat blinked, reality snapping back. His phone’s screen glowed with images of happier days. He pressed his fist to his chest, heart hammering with regret and longing. “Damn you, Mat,” he muttered. “Damn me.” He sank into his leather armchair, head in his hands. Every time he tried to forget Elena, fate pulled her back into his orbit—first with the contract, now with Silas. She hadn’t just negotiated a deal; she’d stepped into the path between him and everything he thought he wanted. He recalled her crisp greeting that morning—“Good morning, Mat”—so polite that her words hovered between them like frost. And then the brilliant arc of her smile toward Silas. That warmth… he’d envied the heir. Mat closed his eyes, a single tear betraying his stoic façade. He’d lost her once; he couldn’t lose her again to this tangled corporate web. But how to win her back when his own ambition had driven the wedge between them? He opened his eyes with renewed resolve. Standing, he reached for the photos on his phone. He selected one from their happier festival night and tapped “Favorite.” Then he drafted a quick note to Elena: *Elena—seeing you today reminded me of who I used to be. I made mistakes I can never undo, but I want you to know how deeply sorry I am. If you can ever forgive me, I’d like the chance to make things right. —Mat* He hovered above “Send,” heart pounding. Doubt crept in—would she even read it? Would she banish him with silence as before? Finally, he pressed the button. The message launched into the digital ether, beyond recall. Mat exhaled, tension ebbing. He paced once more, less erratically this time, more focused. Tomorrow, he’d request a private audience with her. No corporate masks, no apologies hidden in ambition. Just the man who’d loved her and hoped to earn her trust anew. As the city lights below blinked with life, Mat’s own life realigned. He would fight for Elena’s forgiveness, and perhaps in the process, reclaim the person he’d lost when he sacrificed love for power. And when dawn came, he would be ready.
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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
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Silas’s phone buzzed again. He stood in the dim hallway, glancing at the illuminated screen. “We need to meet in person. Your legacy cannot wait. Come to the address attached.”Silas hesitated. His thumb hovered over the screen. Another message followed: “Do not delay. The Elders chose you for a reason.” A lump formed in his throat. His instincts screamed at him to ignore it, but curiosity gnawed at him. With a deep breath, he dialed the number. A man’s voice, calm yet commanding, answered. “Master Silas. The council awaits your arrival.” The line went silent for a moment before Silas’s voice came in. “I… I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Silas stammered. “No mistake. You’ll understand everything when we meet. Come alone.” The line went dead. Silas slipped the phone back into his pocket, his heart racing. As he turned, he froze. Lilian stood at the top of the stairs, her arms crossed, her sharp eyes fixed on him. “What are you sneaking around for?” she asked, he
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Silas stepped into the luxurious lobby of the Grand Regency Hotel. The golden chandeliers sparkled above, their light reflecting off the marble floors. Elegantly dressed guests moved about, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Silas adjusted his worn-out jacket and stepped toward the reception desk. The receptionist barely glanced at him as he approached. “Yes?” she said curtly, her manicured fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’d like a room for the night,” Silas said quietly, his voice steady despite her dismissive tone. Her gaze flicked over him, her expression skeptical. “Do you have a reservation?” “No. I need something available now. VVIP section, please.” She raised an eyebrow, her fingers pausing mid-air. “VVIP?” she repeated, as though the very word coming from his lips was a mistake. “Yes,” Silas replied, his tone calm but firm. “Is that a problem?” The receptionist’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “We don’t usually take walk-ins for the VVIP sect
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Silas stopped a few feet from him, his eyes cold. “You’ve got a big mouth for someone so small. A real man shouldn’t be seen in a compromising position with another woman.” Damien straightened, his smirk fading. “Careful, Silas. You’re in no position to talk to me like that. Do what I said you should do and I’ll save you from completely disgracing yourself.” Silas’s voice dropped. “You think I’ll kneel for you? I’d rather drink from a basket than beg for anything you offer.” Damien’s lips twitched, a mix of anger and amusement flashing across his face. “Is that so?” Silas turned to leave, his steps deliberate and slow, as if daring someone to stop him. “Wait!” the receptionist barked. Silas froze and turned back to the receptionist. “To hell with you all, you’re not worth any penny from me.”“Guards!” she called, her voice sharp. Two uniformed men emerged from the nearby hallway, their footsteps heavy against the polished floor. Silas turned, confusion etched on his face
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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
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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
