Armand's eyes opened suddenly! He found himself in a small but clean room—the very place he had stayed before getting married to Carla. "What's happening?" Armand questioned aloud, his eyes scanning the room. In a hurry to make sense of the situation, he reached for his phone beside the bed. The date displayed on the screen was 30/03/2023. Armand's eyes widened in realization as he pieced together the puzzle—the voice he had heard just before Carl had hit the car he was driving, belonged to the god of time. He had died, met the god of time, and was sent back to earth to accomplish his mission. “Amazing!” Armand muttered to himself, “The Smith's have no idea what's coming for them.” The god of time had sent him back an entire year before his tragic death. On this very day, he had forfeited being the heir to the Armstrong empire in order to marry Carla. His mother had worked as a maid for the Armstrong family, and they had always been good to him, even after his mother died. The

As Armand walked into the building, silence fell over the bustling workplace. About a month ago, during a company party, that was when Mr. Armstrong had voiced out his desire for Armand to be his heir. However, Armand had said he would accept just so he could give Carla a better life, but Mr. Armstrong had expressed his displeasure over Carla and her family, and Armand had declared that he wanted to be no part of the Armstrong empire if Carla wouldn't be by his side. “What a fool I had been.” Armand thought to himself. Ignoring their curious looks, Armand made his way to the CEO's office. However, just as he reached for the doorknob, a voice halted him. "Where do you think you're going?" Armand turned to find Aaron Armstrong, Mr. Armstrong's nephew who had been appointed CEO when he had turned it down before. As CEO, Aaron had destroyed the empire and ruined the good name Mr. Armstrong had struggled to build. Also, the empire kept facing multiple attacks from unidentifiable sourc

Armand couldn't believe the words on the screen when he turned to look. “Breaking News: Tragedy Strikes as one of the apartments built by the Armstrong Empire collapses!” The Newscaster then appeared, and the words that came out of her mouth reminded Armand of Vanessa's words. “Injuries reported as one of the buildings which was constructed by the renowned Armstrong empire has collapsed. Many are speculating that the collapse happened as a result of the use of inferior building materials. However, we urge you all to stay tuned. There's no word from the Armstrong headquarters yet.” Armand kept staring at the screen. This was new, and none of the buildings began collapsing until months after Aaron had been made CEO before. “What will you do?” Carla asked. “I think I'll…” Armand didn't get to finish that statement because Carla's eyes narrowed with greed, and she reminded him once more why he should hate her. Disregarding the fact that many had been wounded, Carla bombarded Armand

Armand's instinct to continue going up the stairs was strong. Ignoring the receptionist's pleas to retreat, he pressed on."I know There's fire up there, but I need to go in there!" Armand insisted, his voice edged with urgency."But it's too dangerous! We need to evacuate," the receptionist implored, her eyes wide with fear.Their exchange grew more heated as Armand argued for action and the receptionist stressed the importance of safety protocols. Back and forth they went, their voices rising above the blare of the alarms until a team of firefighters burst through the entrance, clad in protective gear."We need everyone out now!" one of the firefighters bellowed, cutting through the debate.Reluctantly, Armand yielded, knowing that further resistance would only hinder the efforts of the professionals. With a heavy heart, he allowed himself to be escorted outside, where a crowd of concerned onlookers had gathered, As the chaos subsided, Armand approached the receptionist. "I'm sorry

Armand pushed open the door and stepped into the conference room. The soft rustle of his tailored suit echoed in the quiet space, drawing eyes to his figure. The suit, a deep charcoal with a subtle pinstripe, clung perfectly to his shoulders and tapered waist. The silk tie, a rich shade of midnight blue, added a touch of elegance, complementing the crisp white shirt beneath. As Armand walked purposefully towards the head of the table, his polished black Oxfords made scarcely a sound on the plush carpet. His face was a mask of stern determination, lips pressed into a thin line, and his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Piercing eyes scanned the room, noting every detail, every person. Without a word, he reached the head of the table and adjusted his cufflinks with deliberate precision. The room held its collective breath, waiting for Armand to speak, knowing that whatever came next would set the tone for the day’s proceedings. Before Armand could lower himself into the chair at the h