“So, where exactly are we going?” Joe asked, in a firm tone John kept his eyes on the road, gripping the wheel confidently. “You’ll see.” Joe frowned slightly, shifting in his seat. “You’ve been driving for almost an hour, John. You took the wheel like you had somewhere specific in mind.” John smirked faintly but didn’t look at him. “I do.” “And where is that?” Joe pressed, turning his head toward him. John’s jaw twitched as though he was mulling over his response. “Just wait and see how.” Joe let out a small, tired laugh. “I don’t think I have that patient.” “Well, too bad,” John said firmly. “It looks like you’re going to have to acquire a bit of patience today.” Joe shook his head, staring back out the window. “This is worse than standing in line for ice-cream.” “What a nice way to describe this moment,” John said in a corky tone and Joe wasn’t buying his corkiness in fact he didn’t like it, but he didn’t say anything. The car kept rolling, and it felt like they were dri

The car rolled to a quiet stop, its headlights cutting through the darkness of the neighborhood. Rusty buildings lined the empty streets. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional shuffle of rats scurrying through the debris. Joe sat in the passenger seat, his brows furrowed as he stared out at the scene in front of him. “This doesn’t look safe,” Joe muttered under his breath. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” John, sitting behind the wheel, didn’t look half as worried. He leaned back in his seat, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What, are you scared?” he teased. Joe shot him an annoyed look. “I feel like I’ve walked into the lion’s den. Don’t you think we’re being a little reckless?” John waved off the concern with a hand. “Relax, Joe. Nothing’s going to happen. Besides, if you’re scared, you can stay in the car. Hide out here while I do all the work.” Joe narrowed his eyes. “I’m not staying in the car. That’s not happening.” John chuckled

The fire attack on the finance dinner dominated the news for days. Smoke still lingered in the memories of those who witnessed it, and the tragic loss of life left the city in mourning. Families grieved, businesses expressed their condolences, and public figures made statements about the need for justice. Joe watched as the city struggled to recover. He was also caught up in the feeling of grief. One of his most loyal investors, Mr. Gregson, had been caught in the attack. Joe was invited to the funeral by his only surviving heir—his son Aiden. By midday, Joe set out with Mr.Adam and John to the funeral. “This shouldn’t have happened,” Joe muttered to John as they stood at the back of the crowd. “You know I can’t stop thinking of the fact that I would have been dead.” John nodded, his face equally grim. “But you aren’t, and that’s something you should be grateful for. Right now, we should be focusing on how to hit the gang where it hurts.” Joe didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on

“You must be kidding me?” Joe said as he regained himself from his shocked state. Mr. Adam’s gaze landed on Joe as he spoke. . “I’m saying the truth Joe. He was planning on double—crossing you guys.” Joe frowned. “Why do I have this feeling you are making this up just so you can prove a point?” Mr. Adam shook his head. “I’m not a boy Joe. I don’t have time to play those kind of games. Everything I say is based on facts and evidence not just some made up nonsense.” Joe still looked unconvinced despite Mr. Adam’s words. After a moment of silence he spoke up. “So what fact or evidence did you discover?”Joe asked in a firm tone. Adam stepped forward, his boots echoing against the concrete floor. “I had one of my men follow him. Last night, he went to a pub. While he was there, he got drunk and started running his mouth to another man.” Adam’s jaw tightened. “He told him, word for word, that Whitmore has no idea he’s digging his own grave.” Joe’s eyes widened, disbelief washing ov

Joe woke up the next morning to the faint aroma of coffee wafting through the house. Stretching, he headed to the kitchen and found John sitting at the table, sipping his coffee. “Morning,” Joe greeted, heading to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup. “Morning,” John replied, his tone measured. “You sleep alright?” “Yep” Joe admitted, grabbing a slice of toast and sitting across from John. John nodded silently, staring into his coffee cup. As Joe began eating, his phone buzzed on the table. Glancing at the screen, his brow furrowed in surprise. It was Lady Penelope. It wasn’t unusual for her to call, but this early in the morning was out of character. “Lady Penelope?” Joe said aloud, picking up the phone. “Hello?” Her voice came through, shaky and filled with worry. “Joe, I need you to come over. It’s about Mr. Adam.” Joe’s stomach tightened. “What about him? What’s going on?” “I got a call from him just a few minutes ago,” she began, her voice trembling. “He so