2025-04-28 23:32:52The Wilson Group headquarters transformed into a glittering palace of New Year's celebration. Crystal chandeliers cascaded from impossibly high ceilings, reflecting off marble floors like a thousand tiny stars. Wealthy guests in designer suits and sparkling gowns mingled, their conversations a soft murmur of success and privilege.
Jack Parker stood out immediately. His attire was simple—dark jeans, a well-worn leather jacket, and boots that had clearly traveled far. While others wore thousand-dollar outfits, Jack looked like he'd just stepped off a long journey. Yet there was something about him that made the doorman hesitate before stepping aside. Wealth isn't always about clothes, Jack thought, sometimes it's in how you carry yourself. The buffet stretched like a culinary landscape. Silver trays laden with exotic delicacies beckoned. Jack approached with the hunger of someone who'd spent hours on a plane. He filled a plate with precision—smoked salmon, caviar, miniature quiches, and what looked like some kind of truffle-infused something. Two glasses of champagne completed his selection. Old Joe always said to eat well when opportunity presents itself, he mused, taking a generous bite. Around him, whispers began to rise like a gathering storm. "Who is that?" a woman in a red dress muttered to her companion. "Look at him. Dressed like that. At our party." "Freeloader," another voice said loud enough to be heard. Jack continued eating, seemingly oblivious. His casual demeanor only fueled their mockery. Robert Wilson, the head butler, approached with a look of pure disdain. "Excuse me," he said, his voice dripping with condescension, "may I see your invitation?" Jack looked up, champagne glass in hand. "I'm not here on an invitation," he replied calmly. "I'm here for Emily. I'm her fiancé." A moment of silence. Then laughter. Not just a chuckle, but a full-bodied roar of derision that echoed through the grand hall. "Her fiancé?" Robert sneered. "Emily Wilson is the CEO of the most powerful corporation in Draconia. Do you really expect anyone to believe she'd be engaged to... someone like you?" Jack's eyes, previously warm and casual, suddenly turned cold. "Take me to Emily," he said simply. More laughter. Robert's face reddened with anger. "Security!" he shouted, "Remove this man!" When Robert lunged forward, his fist aimed at Jack's face, something extraordinary happened. Jack didn't move. Didn't dodge. Simply... blocked. His hand intercepted Robert's punch with such casual efficiency that the butler stumbled backward, shock replacing his anger. "You're weak," Jack observed, not even slightly out of breath. Security guards converged, electronic stun sticks humming with potential violence. But before they could strike, a blur of motion swept through them. In less than three seconds, all six guards lay unconscious on the marble floor. No one saw how it happened. Jack looked amused. "Is that the best protection money can buy?" he asked the stunned crowd. Gasps and whispers multiplied. Who was this man? How had he neutralized trained security so effortlessly? More guards rushed in, filling the doorways. The tension became electric, ready to spark into violence. Then a voice cut through the chaos. Calm. Powerful. Commanding. "Enough." The crowd parted like water. Heads turned. And there, descending the grand staircase with the grace of a queen, stood Emily Wilson. CEO. Heiress. The most powerful woman in Draconia. Her emerald green dress seemed to shimmer with each step. Dark hair pulled back in a perfect twist. Eyes that could—and had—made powerful men tremble. She stopped three steps from the bottom, surveying the scene. Her gaze locked onto Jack. "Well," Emily said, "it seems we have quite the welcome party." Jack met her eyes. No fear. No apology. Just a calm, direct gaze that seemed to challenge everything and everyone in the room. So this is my fiancée, he thought. The New Year's party had just become something far more interesting than anyone could have anticipated.
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Chapter 65
The wind rolled through Harmonfield’s Lower Strip, carrying the scent of gasoline, street tacos, and danger.Jack’s boots clicked against the cracked asphalt as he and Sarah rounded the final block of 7th and Mercer. Neon lights from underground lounges flickered overhead. Somewhere beneath the surface, the city breathed in gears and pulses.He slowed when a matte-black Dodge Challenger idled at the curb. Ryan leaned against it, arms crossed, sunglasses on despite the moonlight.“Took you long enough,” Ryan muttered, flicking his cigarette to the ground.Jack kept walking. “Didn’t know we were racing to meet you.”Sarah narrowed her eyes. “What do you want, Ryan?”Ryan nodded toward the alley beside him. A soft hum vibrated under the pavement—music, engine roars, money being counted.“You’ve been Harmonfield’s golden boy for weeks,” he said. “Miracles, media, redemption arcs. But you’ve never faced what matters here. Not really.”Jack tilted his head. “Let me guess. You think that’s a
Chapter 64
But as someone who already had. The morning after the auction, Harmonfield buzzed with gossip. Social media lit up like a downed power grid. Clips of Emily’s dramatic win and the backstage fallout leaked within hours. Headlines flared: “Jack Parker Donates $3M Artifact, Pays for Rival’s Mistake.” “Emily Wilson’s $4M Flop—Who Covered the Cost?” But Jack wasn’t scrolling. He was already standing in a glass-walled boardroom on the 62nd floor of the Thompson Group tower, dressed in slate slacks and a black tailored jacket. He leaned against the far wall, quiet as a storm on the horizon. William Thompson—Sarah’s father, Harmonfield’s corporate lion—was halfway through presenting to the board when it happened. His voice caught. Then stopped. His eyes rolled. His hand slapped the table. “Dad?” Sarah stood, panic rising in her voice. William clutched his chest and fell. “No.” Jack’s voice cut through the stunned silence like a blade. “Sarah—call 911. Now.” He was alre
Chapter 63
The LaFerrari purred softly as it pulled up to Jack’s penthouse garage. The ride from Crestmont had been quiet—peaceful even. But Sarah had seen the storm still in his eyes, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty but calculating.“You okay?” she asked gently as the car shut off.Jack stepped out, straightening his cufflinks. “Yeah. Just thinking.”“About Emily?”Jack looked at her. “About people like her. About what power does to someone who’s afraid of losing it.”The next evening, Harmonfield’s skyline shimmered in gold as floodlights danced over City Hall’s courtyard. It was time for the Annual Charity Auction—an event dripping with wealth, influence, and egos wrapped in thousand-dollar suits.Jack arrived alone, dressed in a crisp black mandarin-collared suit with no tie, understated but flawless. He parked his own car—an old Mercedes 300SL he’d rebuilt with Old Joe in their garage years ago.As he approached the red carpet, flashbulbs flickered.“He’s here.”“That’s Jack Parker, r
Chapter 62
The night breeze swept through Harmonfield as Jack and Sarah stepped into the LaFerrari, the weight of what had just unfolded still settling in the air like dust after a demolition.Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes.Then Sarah broke the silence. “There’s an alumni gala at Crestmont University tomorrow night. I was going to skip, but… I want you to come.”Jack raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Isn’t that your old Ivy League place?”She nodded. “Very formal. Very elite. Very snobbish.”“Sounds like my kind of crowd,” he muttered, smirking.“You’ll love it,” she said, half-laughing. “Ryan’s coming too. Apparently bringing a… plus one.”Jack didn’t miss the tone in her voice.“Emily?”Sarah shrugged. “It’s all over the group chat. They’re not subtle. He wants to show her off to my old friends like some second-hand trophy.”Jack chuckled. “Let’s give them something worth looking at.”Some hours later.The Crestmont Alumni Gala was held in the prestigious Branner Hall, a n
Chapter 61
The matte black LaFerrari coasted down Harmonfield’s upper boulevard, humming like a predator at rest. Sarah leaned her head back, the wind brushing strands of her hair into Jack’s face.She smiled. “You really made Emily faint.”Jack adjusted his sunglasses. “She needed to sit down. That showroom had too much reality in the air.”Sarah laughed—short, soft, unburdened. But as they drove past the digital tickers downtown, Jack noticed something on a skyscraper news screen.BREAKING: WILSON GROUP STOCK PLUNGES AFTER THOMPSON GROUP WITHDRAWAL.He blinked. “Already?”Sarah followed his gaze. “You knew this would happen.”“I hoped it would. But I didn’t think they’d bleed this fast.”The LaFerrari’s engine growled as Jack took a sharp turn.“Where are we going?” she asked.Jack’s mouth set in a line. “The Draconia Capital Summit. Emily’s pitching for rescue money.”Sarah straightened. “Oh no…”“Oh yes.”Hours later.The Grand Royale Hotel sparkled like a diamond tower as Jack pulled into v
Chapter 60
The Mustang roared softly beneath them as they cruised through Harmonfield, sunlight bouncing off mirrored buildings, the city pulsing with late-afternoon energy. Sarah’s fingers still rested lightly in Jack’s. Neither of them spoke for a long while. They didn’t need to.Eventually, Jack broke the silence.“I need a new car.”Sarah blinked. “The Mustang’s still fine.”Jack nodded. “It is. But I’m not.”She turned toward him. “What do you mean?”Jack’s jaw flexed. “I’ve been walking around Harmonfield trying to live like the guy I used to be. And maybe I needed that. But after today?” He looked ahead, eyes narrowing. “I think it’s time the city remembered who I became.”Sarah smiled faintly. “Then let’s get you something worthy of that reminder.”An hour later, they pulled into Harmonfield’s Ferrari dealership—Gran Lux Motors, the most exclusive exotic car showroom in Draconia. The showroom’s glass walls glimmered like diamonds. Inside sat machines that looked like moving sculpture: sl
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