On the other side of the city, Alex had already visited ten hospitals. His presence was felt even in places he didn’t physically step into.“God bless Alex Carter!” a grateful patient cheered, echoing sentiments shared across the wards. Though Alex never met most of the beneficiaries in person, his actions spoke volumes.He had gone directly to the head doctors of each hospital, settling outstanding bills without any media coverage or public spectacle. Yet, to ensure transparency and keep the people of Southlake and Velmoria informed about his commitments, he made a written update on his social media accounts.“We have successfully covered hospital expenses for over 4,000 patients across nearly all hospitals in Velmoria. We have three more hospitals to visit. Thank you all for believing in us, thank you for trusting AOIV.” —Alex Carter.Not long after, the impact of his generosity rippled through social media.“We are happy to announce that Mr. Alex Carter has paid $13 million to cover

Warren raised his brow. “Was this about what…”He paused, gripping his phone firmly as he strode toward the window, his gaze sweeping over the city skyline. Taking a deep breath, he dialed Thompson.“Hello,” Thompson's voice came through.“Did you see the news?” Warren asked without preamble.“Yes. I told you I was going to handle it, didn’t I? Hahaha,” Thompson laughed, his voice dripping with satisfaction.“Check the public's reaction. Now, we are definitely going to win this election, and nothing is going to stop us,” Thompson added confidently.Warren didn't respond immediately. Instead, he ended the call and returned to the notification he had received earlier about the news. His fingers hovered over the screen before he tapped on the comment section.“Hmm. Interesting,” he muttered as his eyes locked onto the first comment pinned at the top.I knew Warren Buffet would be the better candidate. Look at that sum of money. It is enough to buy the nation. He is my president, not Alex

Lucas, the AOIV party chairman, opened his eyes widely at what he had just witnessed. His heart pounded as he processed the shocking announcement.“How could this be?” he murmured to himself, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit party building. The tension in the room was suffocating, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on him like a boulder.He had purposely stayed behind, glued to the television screen, waiting for the official presidential declaration. Every fiber of his being had anticipated a victorious announcement for Alex Carter. The signs had all pointed to it—the polls, the overwhelming support, the countless rallies filled with enthusiastic citizens chanting his name. Yet, against all logic and expectation, the name that rang through the speakers was not Alex Carter but Warren Buffet.Lucas lowered himself into the chair, but a surge of frustration shot through him, forcing him back on his feet almost immediately. His fists clenched at his sides, his mind r

Suddenly, a man in a suit and dark shades barged into the interrogation room.Raising his head, Alex looked at him.As the man entered, the brightness from outside flooded into the dimly lit room. Yet, behind his dark glasses, all he could see was darkness."Why is this place so dark?" he muttered before removing his glasses.As soon as he took them off, he realized how much clearer everything was. He placed his briefcase on the table and said,"Hello, Mr. Carter. I am Detective Marshall."He dragged a chair from the corner of the room and sat at the opposite edge of the bench.Alex, on the other hand, immediately recognized him.Abel Marshall was a name everyone in Southlake knew. He was known to work with the CIA, FBI, and police—any law enforcement agency you could think of. An undercover specialist. Yet, no one knew exactly what he looked like. His name was frequently mentioned on TV, but his face remained a mystery.Over the years, he had solved over a thousand cases—cases once de

Agent Marshall slapped his hand on the desk, his patience wearing thin. “Fucking start talking before I go hardcore on you, pumpkin,” he threatened, his glare fixed on Alex.But Alex remained composed in his chair, unfazed by the agent's aggression. He smiled gently, tilting his head slightly.“But what is there to say if I didn’t commit any crime?” he responded smoothly, his voice calm and collected.Agent Marshall exhaled heavily, frustration evident in the tension lining his forehead. He was getting fed up. Rising to his feet, he yanked open his briefcase and laid it flat on the desk.He had reached his limit. If Alex refused to give him the information he wanted, he had other ways to extract it.Alex, however, remained unbothered. He continued rubbing his finger over his hand ring, his confidence unwavering. No amount of torture could break him. If he wanted, he could fight his way out of there.But no, that was the act of a criminal—and he was not one. He had nothing to prove exc