Chapter 306
Author: Youngblood
last update2026-01-01 21:10:09

The weight of the ring was wrong. It was the first, sickening clue. As he snatched the ring from the table, it felt light in his palm, a hollow imitation.

The second was the temperature. The true Aurelian ring always held a subtle, inexplicable coolness, like stone from a deep river. This was just metal, warmed by the room.

He held it to the light. To the untrained eye, it was perfect—the same worn gold band, the same deep, blood-red cabochon stone.

But the facets within the stone were wrong, cut with modern precision instead of the ancient, irregular handiwork he knew by heart. A perfect mimicry, save for its soul. A forgery.

A cold, silent roar filled Chance’s ears. He had been played. Not just watched, but outmaneuvered in his own sanctum.

He didn’t run. He moved with a lethal, controlled swiftness, the fake ring clenched in his fist. He strode down the hall to Wilfreda’s room, each step hammering the truth home.

The security feed was a lie. The untouched ring was a lie. Her tra
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  • Chapter 324

    Courtney returned alone later that evening. Gary had texted: "Going to be late. Critical meeting with Chance. Don't wait up." The message was terse, typical of him when things were volatile, but it left her feeling unmoored in the quiet space.She dropped her bag by the door with a soft thud, the day's accumulated grit and mental fatigue clinging to her. All she wanted was the scalding spray of a shower to wash away the dust of the secret facility and the chill of shared confessions.It was only after, wrapped in a soft robe with her damp hair piled in a towel, that she finally checked her personal phone, which had been silenced for hours.A notification glowed on the screen: 1 New Voicemail.Frowning, she tapped it and put the phone to her ear. The connection was poor, layered with static and the faint echo of a vast distance."Court? It's... it's me. It's Margaret." The voice was her sister's, but thinner, strained. A tremor ran through it that had nothing to do with the bad line. "

  • Chapter 323

    The damp, cold air of the warehouse seemed to crystallize around Adams Smith's words. He unclasped his worn leather satchel with deliberate care, as if handling sacred texts."The animosity between your uncles and your father was not merely sibling rivalry, Chance," Smith began, his voice a dry, precise instrument. "It was a war of legitimacy. A war your grandfather foresaw."He withdrew a sheaf of yellowed papers, their edges crisp."This is a copy of Alfred O'Connor's last will and testament. The true one, never filed with any court." He handed the top page to Chance. "It names Steven O'Connor as the sole inheritor of the O'Connor empire—its wealth, its holdings, and its most sacred trust. Robert and Richard were to be provided for, but they were never to hold the reins. Alfred knew their character."Chance scanned the document, his eyes catching on his father's name, on the formal, unforgiving language of disinheritance. The legal bedrock of his uncles' lifelong grievance."Alfred

  • Chapter 322

    Before Gary could reply, the soft purr of a different engine echoed from a side access tunnel. A modest, dark sedan glided to a stop a few yards away. The door opened, and a man in his early to late fifties stepped out. He was tall, slightly stooped, with a mane of silver hair and eyes that held a lifetime of meticulous study behind wire-rimmed glasses. He carried an old leather satchel.Adams Smith.He approached Frederick Wheler, and the two men exchanged a handshake that was more than a greeting—it was a silent transfer of weight, a reaffirmation of a decades-old pact. No words were needed.Smith then nodded to Gary, a brief, assessing glance. "Gary. Thank you for facilitating this."Before Gary could respond, the main entrance tunnel filled with the sound of Chance's powerful car. It pulled into the pool of light and stopped. The doors opened.Chance stepped out, his eyes immediately scanning the scene, taking in Gary, the imposing figure of Frederick Wheler, and the unfamiliar y

  • Chapter 321

    Chance’s phone buzzed on the side table, a jarring intrusion in the intimate space they’d carved out of the worry. He glanced at the screen. Gary.The timing felt like a physical tug, yanking him from the theoretical to the immediate. He answered, keeping his voice low. “Gary.”“Chance. We need to meet. It’s urgent.” Gary’s voice was tight, stripped of its usual steady calm. There was an undercurrent of something raw—not fear, but a grim, pressing intensity.“Where are you?”“The secure lot under the old shipping warehouse. Can you come now?”Chance’s eyes met Chloe’s. She was watching him, already reading the shift in his posture, the naew focus in his gaze. “I’ll be there in twenty.”He ended the call and stood, the moment of quiet contemplation over. The waiting was done.“Who is that?” Chloe asked, though she’d clearly heard one side of the conversation.“It’s Gary,” Chance said, already moving to retrieve his jacket from the back of a chair. “He says there’s something he needs to

  • Chapter 320

    “What was that?” Christopher demanded, his voice low and seething. “In there? That wasn’t a cross-examination, it was a public flaying! She made me look like a jealous, scheming idiot, and you just… let it happen!”Sandy remained seated behind her desk, her hands steepled, projecting a calm she did not feel. “Sir, I understand your frustration. Ava Rennet is a formidable opponent. She exploited the family history angle, which was a known vulnerability. Our strength is the forensics, the physical evidence. We’ll pivot back to that.”“Pivot?” Christopher stopped, slapping his hands on the glass surface of her desk, making her flinch. “You don’t pivot when your star witness is turned into the prosecution’s best argument! The reason we hired you—the reason my father is paying your astronomical fees—is to win. Not to ‘pivot’ and hope the jury forgets that my testimony now smells like sour grapes and a decades-old inheritance fight!”He leaned in, his face flushed. “Did you see her? Ava? Sh

  • Chapter 319

    The meeting was held at a place which Richard had chosen; a private viewing room at the most austere modern art gallery in the city, which was closed to the general public. It was an area of cold concrete, glare and a single, bloody splash of color upon a large white wall--a metaphor which Richard must have admired.Richard was already there standing before the picture, with his back turned, when Robert came into the room. He was dressed so well that he appeared to be an outcast of the dust in the air. The gulf of years and philosophy in the gap between him and Robert, was felt by the latter in his custom-crafted, though less rigorous costume.Richard turned. Time had drawn its own fine cold lines down his face, but the eyes were the same--cold, cold, without pity. There was a long period when the brothers just gazed at each other. It was the last face-to-face meeting, and Steven had simply just disappeared, and they had been the competitors on a crumbling kingdom."Robert." There was

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