It's the third day, and Oliver returns to Vance Carver's den, the dark and infamous domain of the gambling and drug boss. Oliver steps out of his car, his expression hard and resolute, carrying a sleek black briefcase. Inside it lies the two hundred million dollars—the key to freeing Mia once and for all.At the entrance, the burly guard who had once delayed him now steps aside without a word, nodding in recognition. Oliver’s presence demands attention. He’s immediately escorted inside, bypassing the crowded, smoke-filled gambling floor that reeked of desperation and decay. The sound of clinking chips and muffled laughter fades as Oliver follows the guard into Vance's private office.The room exudes power and corruption. Vance sits behind a massive desk, leaning back in his chair with a smirk plastered across his face. His eyes light up with amusement as Oliver strides in."Well, well, look who decided to show up," Vance drawls, his tone dripping with mockery. "I half expected you to

One week has passed.Mia had settled into the cozy little house Oliver had arranged for her.The house, though modest, was warm and comfortable, surrounded by a lush garden. Oliver visited occasionally, mostly to ensure her safety and to check that Vance hadn’t tried to disrupt her newfound peace.Despite his reassurances, Oliver couldn't shake the lingering worry that Vance might retaliate.This particular evening, Oliver parked his car in front of Mia's house.The soft glow of the porch light spilled onto the steps as he approached.Mia opened the door before he could knock, her expression lighting up with relief."Oliver," Mia greeted, her voice a mix of gratitude and concern."I was just thinking about you. Come in."Oliver stepped inside, the familiar scent of lavender greeting him.“I just came to see how you’re doing. Everything’s okay?”Mia nodded, motioning toward the living room."Yes, everything's fine. I've been following your advice—no contact with anyone from my past. It

Elena had not spoken to Oliver for days. Her anger lingered like a storm cloud, and her silence cut deeper than any words could have. Oliver, weighed down by guilt, decided it was time to mend the rift.That evening, he planned a surprise—a dinner at her favorite restaurant. He crafted the message carefully, hoping it would show his sincerity:"I'll pick you up at the company tonight. Be ready by 7 PM. Let’s talk, Elena. I miss you."As he hit send, Oliver felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this could be the first step toward reconciliation.At exactly 6:50 PM, Elena stepped out of the elevator into the company lobby.The day’s work had exhausted her, and the tension with Oliver had left her emotionally drained. She glanced at her phone and saw his message from earlier, confirming he was on his way.Elena sighed.Fine. I’ll hear him out.As she stood near the curb waiting, a sleek black car pulled up right in front of her. She frowned, puzzled. It wasn’t Oliver’s usual car.The driver st

Oliver drove through the city in silence, the hum of the car engine the only sound breaking the stillness.Elena was slumped in the passenger seat, her head resting against the seatbelt.The faint light from passing street lights illuminated her face, pale and peaceful, but Oliver couldn’t shake the tight knot of worry in his chest.He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening.The events of the night replayed in his mind: Vance’s smug face, the fight, and Nero’s sudden appearance.Nero’s involvement unsettled him. He hadn’t wanted to owe anyone, least of all a man like Nero, but tonight had left him no choice.Elena stirred slightly, a soft murmur escaping her lips. Oliver glanced at her, his voice gentle.“Elena? Can you hear me?”She didn’t respond, her head merely shifting as if trying to escape a bad dream. He sighed, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease.The city streets gave way to quieter roads as he approached his home.Oliver parked in the driveway

The elegant ballroom shimmered under the light of the crystal chandeliers, and the faint hum of classical music filled the space. Oliver stood near the bar, sipping a glass of whiskey, his sharp gaze surveying the room.Despite the sophistication of the event, Oliver felt out of place. Wealth and luxury hadn’t always been part of his life, and the ghosts of his past seemed to whisper louder in moments like these.“Elena will be fine,” he told himself, glancing toward the group of businessmen where his wife was engaged in conversation.Her presence always reassured him, grounding him in this new life that sometimes felt too foreign.“Oliver Roberts,” came a smug voice from behind him, slicing through his thoughts.Oliver turned to see a tall man with slicked-back hair and a designer suit that screamed arrogance.The man smirked, a champagne flute dangling carelessly in his hand.“I’ve heard a lot about you. The rags-to-riches story. Quite the tale.”Oliver’s jaw tightened, but he kept