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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EPILOGUE–THE TASK COMPLETED 🐉
LATE OLD JOE Jack turned away before anyone could see. He didn’t trust his voice. He didn’t trust his face. He took the stairs quietly, each step careful, controlled, until the sounds of the sitting room softened into a distant hum. His bedroom welcomed him with dim light and familiar shadows. The window was cracked open; night air drifted in, cool and clean. Jack shut the door. The moment the latch clicked, his control broke. He sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed. A sound tore out of him—raw, unguarded. Tears spilled freely now, hot and relentless, soaking into his hands. “My mentor,” he whispered hoarsely. “Joseph Donovan.” His gaze lifted to the wall opposite the bed. The portrait hung there—large, carefully framed. A hand-drawn image, charcoal and ink, every line deliberate. Old Joe sat as he always had in Jack’s memory: relaxed posture, knowing eyes, a half-smile that carried both kindness and iron certainty. Jack stood on unste
Chapter 548
The porch light washed William Thompson in a pale amber halo, sharpening the lines at his eyes, softening the silver at his temples. He didn’t step in right away. He waited—like a man asking permission without words. Jackson’s fingers curled around the door edge. “Um,” he said, craning his neck. “Do you know my mom?” Sarah found her voice. It came out thin, then steadied. “Dad.” William exhaled, a long breath that seemed to empty years out of his chest. “Hey, kiddo.” His eyes didn’t leave Sarah as he said it. She crossed the space in three quick steps. They met in the doorway, awkward for half a heartbeat, then arms wrapped tight—hers around his middle, his around her shoulders. William’s hand pressed into her hair, firm and familiar. He closed his eyes. “I should’ve called,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re here,” Sarah said. Her voice caught anyway. “That’s enough.” Behind them, the house released the breath it had been holding. Ryan shifted, clearing his throat. Emily stra
Chapter 547
Jack let the doorway frame him a moment longer, the noise inside settling into something domestic and real. Laughter, overlapping voices, the scrape of shoes being kicked off without care. This was the other side of victory—no banners, no broadcasts. Just walls that knew your name. He reached back and unfastened the Dragon Dagger. The metal slid free without resistance, its presence dim now, quiet. No hum. No pull. Just weight—honest and inert. Jack crossed the living space and placed it into the recessed wall cradle beside the stairs. The housing sealed with a soft click, biometric lock engaging. Sarah noticed. She always did. “You sure?” she asked gently. Jack nodded. “It’s done for tonight.” She smiled at that—not wide, not triumphant. Relieved. “Baths,” Sarah announced, clapping her hands once. “Everyone. Before anyone falls asleep on the couch.” A chorus of groans answered her, half-hearted and theatrical. “I’m not dirty,” Matilda protested, already halfway up the stai
Chapter 546
Jack stayed where he was a moment longer, letting the Governor of Carlisle’s voice fade naturally into the night air. The plaza didn’t rush to reclaim noise. It didn’t need to. People were already turning inward—talking, pointing, planning routes home that felt different than the ones they’d taken coming here. That was when DragonBot dipped closer. “Transport readiness confirmed,” it said. “DragonCar is positioned at the east ramp. Crowd density decreasing along primary exit corridors.” Jack nodded once. “Alright.” He looked down at Matilda and Jackson. Both were tired now—the sharp edge of excitement blunted by exhaustion—but their eyes were still bright. “Home?” he asked. Matilda nodded immediately. Jackson yawned and leaned into Sarah’s side. “Home,” Sarah echoed softly. They began moving. The crowd parted without being told. Not in a dramatic way—no bowed heads, no reverent silence—but with something quieter. Recognition. Gratitude that didn’t demand anything b
Chapter 545
He let the conversation breathe for a few seconds longer, listening to the low tide of voices around him. This—this—was the fragile part. After victory, before direction. He felt it in the way people leaned closer to one another, in the way questions hovered just beneath smiles. He turned slightly, addressing not the press, not the screens—but the people within arm’s reach. “Reidsville,” Jack said, voice steady, unamplified, yet somehow carrying. “I won’t pretend tonight fixed everything. It didn’t. What it did was stop the bleeding.” The plaza quieted again, not by command, but by choice. “For a long time,” he continued, “this city was forced to make decisions under pressure that wasn’t its own. Fear distorts judgment. It makes good people compromise just to survive.” Ryan nodded slowly beside him. Emily folded her arms, attentive, analytical. “Tonight,” Jack said, “fear lost its leverage. Not because someone stronger showed up—but because enough of you refused to keep living
Chapter 544
Jack let the laughter around him taper naturally, not silencing it—just guiding it. The plaza had reached that rare balance point where relief hadn’t yet curdled into chaos. Families stood shoulder to shoulder. Strangers shared space without suspicion. Reidsville was breathing. Then the LED screens shifted. Not abruptly. Not with alarms. The Senators’ split-screen debate faded into a soft blue seal edged in gold. The murmur of the crowd lowered on instinct. Even DragonBot’s stabilizers adjusted, hovering a fraction higher, optics narrowing in quiet focus. A familiar crest resolved across every screen in the plaza—Venmoor’s national insignia, crisp and unmistakable. Ryan’s brow creased. “That’s… international.” Emily straightened slightly. “They don’t interrupt local broadcasts unless it matters.” Jack didn’t move. He only tilted his head up, one hand resting loosely near the Dragon Dagger—not in readiness, but in habit. “Let’s hear him out.” The seal dissolved. The President
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The novel is full of action. I love it!