Driven by fear, Ethan Bishop drove to his safe house, located on the outskirts of Pantheon Valley.“Sir, who was your assailant?” Ethan Bishop’s right-hand man in charge of the safe house asked.“I have no idea,” Ethan replied.“It’s probably a hitman or a mercenary. Do you know who would want to take you out so badly they’d hire one?”“Which of them wouldn’t? I’ve made so many enemies, I’ve lost track of the count. But I do know this: whoever or whatever that was, he’s not done. He just gave us a head start, and that, my friend, was a big mistake.”Ethan Bishop’s safe house was a three-story building armed with at least twenty guards at all times. Each of the rooms and floors could only be accessed by specific people, depending on their security clearance level. Ethan Bishop’s safe room was an underground bunker accessible only via an elevator from the highest room in the building. As Ethan looked around his safe house, his mind flashed through the sequence of the earlier occurrence

The air was thick with tension. Fifty men stood in tight formation, their guns trained on the elevator door. Ethan Bishop, seated in his command center, watched the CCTV feed with laser focus. The elevator began its slow ascent, each floor ticking by like a countdown to the inevitable confrontation. “Steady,” Ethan whispered to himself, his heart pounding against his ribcage. His plan was simple: overwhelm the attacker with sheer numbers. No one could possibly take down fifty armed men. But as the elevator doors slid open, and the barrage of gunfire erupted, something felt off. For fifteen deafening seconds, bullets tore into the empty elevator. Only then did the captain notice—there was no one inside. “Cease fire!” the captain barked. Ethan’s voice cracked through the comms, panic creeping in. “Where is he? I saw him enter the elevator!” “I don’t know, Sir. He’s not in there. It’s empty.” “That’s impossible. Are you sure you didn’t vaporize him?” Ethan spat, frustration

When all was said and done, Ethan Bishop and his men were beaten to a pulp, their jaws so disarranged they might never be able to utter another word. Alexander found a discreet place to change back into his regular clothes before heading home. His plan had been more successful than he anticipated. All he’d wanted was to make Ethan pay for what he'd done to Seraphina, but he also ended up getting a public confession that vindicated her completely. Now, with the deed done, he just hoped it would work. "Alexander!" His name was the first thing he heard as he opened the front door. It was Seraphina, with her mother, Caroline, seated in the living room. "Seraphina? Carol? What are you two doing up?" Alexander asked, surprised. He had expected them to be asleep, allowing him to sneak in unnoticed. "Are you out of your mind? How do you expect us to sleep with everything that's going on?" Caroline snapped. "Fair point," Alexander muttered, cursing under his breath for not considering that

It was 5:30 AM, and Alexander was walking through the fancy streets of Pantheon Valley, his mind crowded with far too many thoughts. His wife, Seraphina Lockwood, had hurriedly left to go see Lady Charlotte. "That mischievous old hag," he muttered to himself. It wasn’t hard to guess why Lady Charlotte had summoned Seraphina. She must have seen the news, realized how wrong she was, and now wanted to save face by calling Seraphina over to reinstate her as Project Manager—probably behind closed doors to preserve her dignity. Seraphina knew this too, which was why she had been more excited than a bee stuck in jelly. Even though she was in such a rush, she still managed to put on her finest outfit, perfect her makeup, and look every bit the part of a soon-to-be, or rather long-overdue, Project Manager. Alexander couldn’t have been more relieved by the timing of it all, but her final words before she left still haunted him: *“Alex, we will finish our conversation.”* He had looked back

Alexander dropped the woman and her child off at the nearest police station. He didn’t wait to give a statement—he couldn’t afford to. The sound of Seraphina’s sobbing still echoed in his ears, driving him to move faster. What could have happened? Alexander questioned himself as he ran home, moving so quickly that anyone who saw him would have caught nothing but a blur. He promised himself he would find out who had hurt his wife and make them rue the day they dared to do so. When he reached home, Alexander was panting heavily, short of breath. He pushed the door open with urgency. “Sera!” he shouted, his voice laced with concern. To his shock, there she was, sitting in front of the TV, a half-empty bottle of alcohol in her hand, with more bottles and cans scattered across the floor. It was clear she was drowning her pain, something completely out of character for her. “Oh, Alex, I’m sorry… I was just overwhelmed,” Seraphina mumbled, turning to him, her head slightly lowered in emba