The night stretched on endlessly as I tossed and turned, each tick of the clock serving as a relentless reminder of the chaos that had engulfed my life. 3:27 AM blinked accusingly on the bedside clock, its red digits slicing through the darkness like sharp accusations. Sleep was a distant memory, chased away by the relentless onslaught of thoughts racing through my mind.The morning light began to filter through the blinds, casting a cold, unwelcome glow across the room. Dawn brought no relief, only the harsh reality of the nightmare that had unfolded just hours before.I sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by scattered papers and my laptop, trying to make sense of the chaos that had consumed my life. My phone vibrated, and I saw Henderson Rhodes's name flashing on the screen. He was the closest thing I had to an ally in this mess, and despite my racing heart, his voice was a reassuring presence amidst the turmoil.“Richard, I saw the news. What’s going on? What's this mess, man!? Te

RICHARD'S POVThe next day dawned with a sense of urgency hanging heavy in the air. I knew I needed to address the situation head-on, to confront the storm that threatened to engulf me before it grew too powerful to control.With a deep breath, I picked up my phone, my fingers tapping impatiently against the sleek surface as I dialed Henderson's number. The call rang, each ring felt like an eternity, the anticipation mounting with every passing second until finally, he answered.“Henderson," I greeted him, my voice tight with tension. "I need to talk to you about yesterday."There was a pause on the other end of the line before Henderson replied, his tone guarded. "What about yesterday?”"Henderson," I began, my voice clipped with frustration. "I saw you on TV last night. Care to explain why you went for that interview without informing me?"Henderson sighed, his frustration evident even over the phone. "Look, Richard, I did what I had to do. Our partnership is on the line, and invest

RICHARD'S POVAn hour later, I stood in the dimly Lit parking lot behind my office building, the cold night air biting at my skin. The sound of tires on wet asphalt signaled Gustavo's arrival. He pulled up in a nondescript sedan, the back door opening to reveal a man who looked far too relaxed for someone caught in the eye of a storm. Michael Derringer, the leaker, stepped out, a slight stumble in his step, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the dim lighting. He looked up, locking eyes with me, a flicker of recognition passing over his features before it was quickly masked by indifference. "Richard, huh?" His voice held a mocking tilt, the arrogance of his stance infuriating me further. "Why did you leak those false trash about me? And why lie about being arrested?" I asked, my voice calm but ice-cold.Michael smirked, leaning his back against the car. "Why does anyone do anything in this game? Money, Mr. Richard. It's always about the money." The simplicity of his answer, the

RICHARD'S POVThe cool, calculated air of the conference room was a stark contrast to the storm raging in my heart as I entered. The long, polished table was surrounded by familiar faces. At the head of the table sat the minister, Collins, his presence authoritative yet open. I was here for the business meeting which he had invited me to.Henderson Rhodes, my former partner, was already seated, his surprise at my arrival poorly masked by a quick, insincere smile. "Richard, glad you could join us," the minister greeted, still oblivious to the undercurrents of tension. "Thank you, Minister," I replied, nodding respectfully as I took my place. Henderson wasted no time. "Minister, I feel it's important to clarify that Richard and I are no longer in partnership. His presence here might be... misleading." The room tightened with whispered speculations, the air thick with sudden interest. The minister’s brows knitted in confusion. "Is that so? Richard, you were just discussing the pro

RICHARD'S POVThe smoke still lingered in the air, a bitter reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. The firefighters, their faces smeared with soot and sweat, were wrapping up, hoses coiling like exhausted serpents. My office, once the heart of my operations, now lay in ruins, charred and unrecognizable. The acrid scent of burnt paper and wood stung my nostrils, mingling with the bitter taste of dread in my mouth. "Mr. Richard, most of the documents are gone” a firefighter, his name tag reading 'Johnson,' said, his voice heavy with sympathy. "I'm sorry, man." I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. My mind raced, tallying the losses. Important documents, ownership rights, contracts—Amelia's former company was now in a precarious position. This wasn't just a fire; it was an attack. "Get the security team here," I managed to croak out, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears. "I need to know how this happened." Minutes later, the security team assembled in the remnants of my