2025-12-26 22:41:17
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Chapter 90
Chapter 90All eyes were on Johnny.He stood where he had always stood—hands loose at his sides, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. If he felt the weight of the room pressing down on him, it didn’t show. If he sensed how quickly power had shifted, he didn’t react to it. He simply watched.Emily stood a few steps away, rigid. Her jaw was tight, lips pressed thin, eyes darting between Johnny and the man who had just entered. She was calculating. She always was. Fear sharpened her instincts rather than dulled them.Darius King groaned softly on the floor.The sound barely registered.Blood had soaked into the carpet beneath him, dark and ugly against the muted corporate grey. His breathing was uneven, shallow. No one bent to help him. Not because they didn’t see him—but because they were suddenly unsure who was allowed to.Darren Cross remained upright, but his posture had changed—no longer commanding, no longer certain.That alone told Johnny a lot. Darren wasn’t stupid. He was t
Chapter 89: Mr. Santiago Silver
His suit was charcoal—custom, understated, flawless in its tailoring. No flashy accessories. No visible branding. The kind of clothing that didn’t announce wealth, because it assumed recognition. His shoes made no sound against the polished floor, yet every step felt audible.Mr. Silva.The current owner of SilverCrest Holdings.He didn’t enter the room so much as claim it.But the first thing people noticed wasn’t his height, or even the cut of his suit—dark, precise, expensive without announcing itself. It was the way the room adjusted around him. Conversations died mid-thought. Spines straightened. Breathing changed. Men who had built careers on intimidation suddenly remembered paperwork, protocols, consequences.Silva walked like a man who had never needed to prove where he stood.His hair was neatly groomed, streaked just enough with gray to signal time rather than age. His face carried no obvious emotion—no anger, no curiosity—but his eyes were sharp in a way that unsettled s
Chapter 88: If I were you
As the men were about to pull their triggers— “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Johnny’s voice wasn’t raised. It wasn’t urgent. It carried the same tone he’d used all morning—flat, almost bored—as his eyes tracked invisible lines only, he seemed to notice. The trajectory of the bullets. The angles. The ricochet paths.He could dodge them.All of them. But he also knew what they didn’t. If he moved, someone else in the room would die. An assistant near the glass wall. A junior executive frozen behind a chair. Maybe even one of the guards themselves. Innocent blood spilled not out of intent, but incompetence. Johnny had learned long ago that survival wasn’t just about living. It was about choosing who didn’t have to die for it. Darren Cross stared at him. Not with rage. Not yet. For a long second, Darren simply looked—really looked—at the man standing alone at the center of the room with guns trained on him and no fear on his face. “Is this funny to you?” Darren asked. T
Chapter 87: Darren
The executive floor of SilverCrest Holdings now had a particular kind of quiet—manufactured, expensive, hostile. The carpet swallowed footsteps. The glass walls reflected power back at itself. Even raised voices sounded moderated by money.And the guns never moved.They stayed trained on Johnny’s chest, his head, his spine—three different men, three different angles. Professional. Careful. Not shaking. The kind of stillness that told everyone in the room these weren’t bluffing security contractors. These were people who had done this before.Johnny stood in the center of it all.Hands relaxed at his sides. Posture straight. Face calm.The room had formed a wide circle around him without anyone consciously deciding to step back. Executives. Assistants. Sector heads. A few interns frozen near the walls, unsure whether to look or pretend they weren’t witnessing something that could end careers—or lives.Darren Cross stood near the center of the floor, jacket perfectly cut, cuffs immac
Chapter 86: Grateful
Time stretches. Johnny’s finger settles against the trigger. Another realization surfaces—not a memory, but a truth he can no longer avoid. He is no longer innocent. That had ended the night he died and came back wrong. Since then, the world had felt thinner. Sharper. People too. Desire, fear, loyalty—none of it hid well anymore. The Ultimate Harem System hadn’t made him reckless. It had made him aware. He’d seen how easily power moved. How quickly it traded hands. How often it wore charm instead of violence. Death took his fear. Coming back took his excuses. That was why his hand was steady now. Why the begging didn’t move him. Why he could look at a broken man and feel nothing he hadn’t already buried. He wasn’t here to prove anything. He was just done pretending.Strangely enough, Johnny was grateful to them. To Darius, for showing him what power looked like when it rotted. For teaching him that authority was often just permission wrapped in a suit. For breaking him so
Chapter 85: The gun
Darius King doesn’t fall so much as he gives up. His knees buckle, not from impact, but from realization. From the sudden understanding that whatever protected him for years—status, fear, rooms that closed when he entered—has stopped working. He sinks down, palms bracing against the carpet, shoulders caving inward. The suit that once made him look untouchable now hangs wrong on his body, wrinkled where it shouldn’t be, pulled tight across a back that no longer knows how to stand straight. “I’m still the head here!” he snapped, voice louder than he felt. His hands trembled as they hovered uselessly. “You don’t—You can’t—know what you’re doing!Everything stopped. The air itself seemed to stiffen. Johnny’s fist hovered mid-motion, Darius’ body rigid, the room suspended in disbelief. Armed men appeared, their boots heavy on the floor, guns trained. Every heartbeat was audible, every breath a thunderclap. Johnny’s eyes scanned the barrels aimed at him. Each one a promise of instant
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