2025-12-17 04:02:22
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194. Haggling.....
Mark led Helena and Smith to his private office, gesturing toward the guest chairs while he settled behind his desk.The earlier blush and the fluster of their unexpected reunion had vanished from Helena’s face, replaced by a razor-sharp business expression. She interlaced her fingers and fixed Mark with a grim, level gaze."Listen, I’m not here as a government official," she began, her voice low. "In fact, I really didn't want to come at all. But I realized that if I didn’t and the same thing that happened to Jaden happens to someone else because I lacked the courage to act—I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Or at least, I wouldn't have peace."Mark leaned back, his curiosity piqued. "Who’s Jaden?""Her late husband," Smith interjected. Helena shot him a glare so icy that the man immediately wiped the small smile from his face."I see," Mark muttered. "Go on."Helena cleared her throat. "The government is dangerous, Mark. Many geniuses have invented things that could change the
193. An unexpected reunion
While Lilith prepared to deal with Enny Simpson, Mark was gearing up for another day of modeling training at the Throne Agency. His plans were abruptly derailed when his phone began ringing; it was Lady Clarice."Hey, Mark. We need you at the pharmacy," she said the moment he picked up.Mark frowned, checking his watch. "Is everything okay?""It's the government official... he’s back," Clarice responded, her voice tight."Oh, did they sign the contract? If so, just accept it and we’ll start the next batch of capsules, right?""It’s just... they want to talk to you personally."Mark’s frown deepened. "They?" As far as he knew, Mr. Smith always handled these visits solo."There are two of them this time. A man and a woman," Clarice clarified. "Please, just get here."Mark let out a heavy sigh. Dealing with the government was a chore he had no interest in, but he knew the score: either handle them once and for all, or they’d be breathing down his neck forever.To avoid drawing unnecessar
192. Curse made flesh
The morning was perfect for work. The sun rose steadily, the wind was calm, and the birds sang melancholic melodies that felt more like a professional choir than a random occurrenceLilith woke early, the gears of her mind already turning. Today, she swapped her signature black dresses for something that commanded a different kind of respect. She donned flowing black trousers paired with a sharp, tailored blazer over a crisp white shirt. She looked like a high-powered executive—the hot secretary of the division—though she kept her aesthetic intact with her signature black neck collar.Stepping into her black loafers, she walked with a rhythmic grace that suggested she was far more fit for a runway than Mark was. Had Xavier seen her walk, he would have realized Mark was actually the second-best model in the family.Ben, her ever-present butler, was already waiting by the limousine, the door held open with practiced precision. Getting inside, they were driven to a helipad to pick up a
191.
While Mark slept soundly at home, his second heroine, Lilith, was wide awake in her private study. Weeks ago, she had promised to help Mark manage his ranch, and Lilith was not a woman who made idle promises. Mark had given her carte blanche to reshape the ranch's image as she saw fit, and she intended to use every bit of that authority.The ranch itself was impressive—a solid foundation—but Lilith didn't want a mere farm. She wanted an empire that would be whispered about in the highest circles of the country.Her first task was branding. After cycling through several options, she settled on a name: The Divine Farm. It was catchy, sophisticated, and a subtle hint to the man behind the ranch.Next, she decided to tackle the ranch’s output systematically, starting with the dairy. Currently, the ranch produced high-quality milk but sold it in bulk to local companies at a discount. Lilith intended to end that immediately. To her, value wasn't just in the product; it was in the presentati
190. The List
"Hey, baby. How was your day?"Mark looked up from the couch to see his mother, Clara, standing over him. She looked as radiant as ever, dressed in a crimson, form-fitting skirt that hugged her curves and a white top with gold accents that made her blonde hair pop. He quickly averted his eyes from her plunging neckline that showed off her impressive cleavage, focusing back on the TV."Uh... hi, Mom. My day was horrible. I failed at modeling."Clara patted his hair affectionately. "Oh, don’t get too worked up. I’m sure you weren’t that bad."Mark shook his head. "I was fine in the beginning... until Rita’s cooking made me sick! It was the worst.""What was that about my cooking?" Rita’s voice drifted down as she descended the stairs."Nothing!" Mark snapped. He knew better than to provoke Rita when it came to her kitchen skills—or lack thereof."Good," Rita said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Because I’m cooking f
189. The assistant
Neko fumed, her chest heaving with silent rage. She had never missed a jugular shot at that range—ever. The fact that Mark had caught the needle like he was bored made it feel like a personal insult.The room remained eerily quiet. Neither of them had breathed a word to the other. Mark continued his practice, his facial expressions a practiced icy composure. In his mind, he was already a superstar, successfully navigating the most intense "modeling test" in history.Neko, meanwhile, circled him like a predator. She was looking for the one thing every human had: a blind spot. But as she darted between the freestanding mirrors, she realized with growing dread that in this room of infinite reflections, Mark was seeing everything. Every time she thought she was behind him, a mirror caught her movement and fed it right back to his line of sight.She reached down and slipped off her stilettos. If there was one thing her Master had taught her, it was that an assassin’s surroundings were a to
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