Midway through his drive Franklin reconsidered his decision. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he stared at the glowing lights in the distance. He couldn’t go and drown his frustration in alcohol—it would only add fuel to the fire. The last thing he needed was for anyone to see him like that and spread stories that could damage his already crumbling reputation.Shaking his head, Franklin let out a long breath, silently urging himself to retreat. He turned the car around and drove back to the hotel, his thoughts racing. He needed someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge him or make things worse.When he pulled into the hotel parking lot, the place was already getting isolated and he was sure Daisy was gone. Relief washed over him. At least he wouldn’t have to face the night alone.Franklin hurried to his suite, but before he could reach the door, Vera was already there, opening it.“Welcome back! I made your—” Her words were cut off as Franklin involuntarily leaned

The next day in Miles Empire, the boardroom was unusually bright that morning, sunlight pouring through the large windows. The executives of Miles Empire sat around the long table, each wearing expressions that ranged from cautious optimism to outright frustration.Mr. Patel was the first to break the silence. He tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze shifting between the documents in front of him. “Are we really going to do this? This deal feels more like selling our company than saving our company.”Mr. Reynolds adjusted his glasses, leaning back in his chair. “Do we have another option, Patel? We’ve been over this. Without this deal, Miles Empire won’t survive. We can’t afford to delay any longer.”Mr. Thayer straightened his tie, his voice calm but firm. “Reynolds is right. We need Bill Ford’s resources to rebuild our reputation and keep our investors from pulling out completely. It’s not ideal, but it’s necessary.”Patel shook his head, frustration evident on his face. “Necess

Towards the end of the day, Franklin made his way to the bar at the Empire State Hotel, scanning the room until his eyes landed on Conor seated in a quiet corner.The place wasn’t crowded, and soft jazz music played in the background. Conor, his loyal chauffeur, had a calm demeanor, a glass of whiskey resting untouched in front of him.Franklin approached the table. Conor noticed him and stood up slightly, nodding in respect before sitting back down.“Evening, boss,” Conor said, his voice steady.“Conor,” Franklin replied, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. A waiter approached, but Franklin waved him off. He wasn’t here for a drink—at least not yet. “I trust you handled the task I gave you?”Conor leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Of course. It wasn’t easy, though. Professor Arjun’s a cautious man, but I managed to plant the device during his meeting earlier today. He didn’t notice a thing.”Franklin’s expression remained unreadable, though a hint of relief flashed in his eyes

Franklin was seething with rage as he stepped out of the Empire State Hotel that morning. The crowd of protesters, which had been loud but peaceful earlier, suddenly turned hostile the moment they spotted him.“Get out of here, you crook!” someone yelled.Before Franklin could fully register the change in their mood, objects started flying toward him—bottles, scraps of paper, and even small stones. One hit the pavement near his feet, and he quickly retreated back inside the hotel to avoid getting hurt.“What the hell is going on?” he muttered under his breath, glancing over his shoulder as the hotel staff hurried to shut the doors.The crowd outside was no longer just shouting slogans—they were furious. Franklin pulled out his phone, his gut churning with dread. He quickly checked for updates, praying it wasn’t what he thought.His worst fears were confirmed.More videos had been posted by the anonymous account, this time claiming to show hotel management ignoring reports about the hi

For his next move, a meeting was fixed the following day to address the issue at hand. Franklin was already sitting at the head of the long table in the hotel’s private conference room, his fingers drumming softly against the polished wood. This was one of the most important meetings Mr. Hughes had arranged for him—a chance to address the men leading the boycott against the Empire State Hotel. They were angry, and rightfully so, but Franklin has promised to set the record straight.The door opened, and six men filed in. Peter Grant, the most outspoken of the group, took the seat directly across from Franklin. Beside him were Tom Reaves, Marcus Dole, Eric Summers, Benjamin Carter, and Richard Vaughn. Their expressions were a mixture of suspicion and barely concealed frustration.Peter leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Alright, Franklin’s, we’re here. What’s this all about? Another excuse to dodge the blame for what your hotel’s been doing?”Franklin stayed calm, his voice steady