Hunter adjusted his coat as he entered Lorelei’s home. The scent of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air, mingling with the faint fragrance of lavender that seemed to cling to every corner of the quaint house. Lorelei’s grandmother, Almara, sat by the window, her sharp eyes scanning Hunter as though she could read him like an open book.“Come in, sit,” she said, gesturing toward the chair opposite her. Despite her frail appearance, her voice carried authority.Hunter hesitated but obliged, his movements deliberate. Lorelei had mentioned her grandmother’s perceptive nature, but he hadn’t expected this level of scrutiny.Almara poured tea into two delicate porcelain cups. Her hands, though aged, were steady, her every action measured. “You have the look of someone who’s walked the village roads before,” she said, handing him a cup.Hunter accepted it, keeping his expression neutral. “I’ve traveled a lot. Maybe I passed through here once or twice.”Almara chuckled, a sound that was

Estella sat at the witness stand, her hands trembling as she gripped the edges. The courtroom was silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of the prosecutor’s pen on the desk. The weight of what she was about to do crushed her chest, but she knew there was no turning back.“Estella Marlowe,” the prosecutor began, his voice steady but tinged with an undercurrent of empathy. “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”Her voice faltered as she answered. “I do.”The air felt thick around her, suffocating her, and all she could focus on was the man sitting in the defendant’s chair—Jake. His eyes, once full of warmth and comfort, now seemed empty, accusing. She saw nothing of the man she had loved for ten years. Only the monster he had become.“Estella,” the prosecutor continued, leaning forward slightly. “Can you tell us what happened between you and Jake? How you became involved in these crimes?”Estella’s throat tightened. She could barely breathe. Her eye

Hunter sat in the quiet of the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Zafron’s labored breathing echoed from the hallway, a constant reminder that time was slipping away, piece by piece. Hunter’s gaze drifted toward the door to his father’s room, where the old man was struggling, his once commanding presence now diminished by the ravages of age and illness.The sound of footsteps broke his reverie. He didn’t need to look up to know it was Alamid. The younger man walked in quietly, as if sensing the weight of the atmosphere.“How’s he doing?” Alamid asked, his voice low.Hunter didn’t immediately answer. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly. “Not good.”Alamid lingered by the door, uncertain if he should say anything more. Hunter’s shoulders were stiff, his gaze distant.“Have you… said anything to him?” Alamid asked hesitantly. “About what he means to you, I mean.”Hunter’s jaw tightened. He glanced over at Alamid

The harsh sound of the news announcement sliced through the silence in the room, causing Olivia to freeze, her eyes glued to the screen. The weight of the words was too much, each syllable hitting harder than the last.“Breaking News: The Pritt family, known for their long-standing involvement in organized crime, have been taken into police custody after a series of investigations and raids that uncovered their criminal empire spanning several countries. Master Pritt, the patriarch of the family, alongside his son, Mr. Johnson Pritt, and daughter Olivia Pritt, have all been arrested. Sources suggest that their illicit activities include money laundering, trafficking, and other serious charges. Authorities are currently processing the suspects, but many questions remain regarding the extent of the family’s criminal operations. Further updates are expected.”Olivia felt her stomach twist at the mention of her name. She wasn’t just a bystander in this family’s empire; she was tangled up

Alamid sat in the plush leather chair in his penthouse office, the skyline of the city stretched out before him. The glass walls provided an unobstructed view of the urban expanse, the endless flow of traffic below a constant reminder of the world he had conquered.At thirty-two, he was already a household name. His business ventures, from tech startups to real estate empires, had catapulted him into the elite ranks of billionaires. His image was plastered across magazines and television screens, the media’s fascination with him growing by the day.The public saw him as the ultimate bachelor—charming, wealthy, and unattached. He was the kind of man every woman desired and every man envied.Despite the whirlwind of fame and fortune, Alamid hadn’t let it change him. He was still the same man who had started with nothing, driven by a relentless ambition that had never wavered. But the attention, the cameras, the flashing lights—they were all a part of the game now.He had learned to play