“The rat race is finally over!” “On your knees! Your hands wrap around your neck!” A menacing voice alarmed in a discordant baritone. “Spill your last prayers before we send you six feet underground.” “It's the end of the road!” Three vicious voices reverberated across the cold street with their faces etched with simmering rage. Their words ushered in moments of numbness, as a surge of tension ran through the victim’s vibrated veins. Without further ado, she silently obeyed and shut her eyes in mumbled prayers with her heart bleeding in alarming pain. Uncontrollable tears glued on her tender cheeks as her spines quivered in indescribable anguish. She didn't envisage her last moments would seem profoundly pitiful. The sky viciously rumbled, accompanied by a thick, darker cloud, which sent an explicit message of a soon heavy downpour about to hit the streets of Manchester City. “Please!” Her voice desperately gutted out. “Don't do this! I will triple whatever you were p

Michael narrowed his eyes at his wife and muttered. “What do you mean by that?” his reflective question resounded but she continually exuded a cold gesture. He knew his wife hadn't truly been in love with him in their union which was contrary to how he felt. ‘Madam Cathrine would have simply displayed all these in private. Why show them off on the tenth anniversary? Could my wife be a cohort?’ he questioned inwardly as their words formed a thick voice in his head. He could feel more was underway but was yet to wrap his head around what his mother-in-law intended to achieve from her condescending public display in the past twenty minutes. “My confused husband of all wealthy successful men across European countries to give his beloved daughter's hand in marriage. He ridiculously chose you. He picked, “I wanna be rich someday, dude!” “What a joke!” her words reverberated in cooked-up insults as though she specifically waited for the tenth anniversary to entirely unleash her ills a

Amidst the unprecedented disarrayed twist of Michael's epic response, a certain man in his late fifties sprinted through the back entrance of the hall and made his way toward the stage.“I’m… I'm sorry for being late. I had an emergency at the last second,” he managed to spill out while still catching his breath.He stared around the hall and beheld different faces in undefined countenances. “Why does everyone seem stunned?” “Where is Michael? Didn't he make it for the tenth anniversary?” he continually inquired as he drew closer to the Augustine family who were still rattled.Madam Catherine drew a breath with somewhat curved lips. “He just exited the hall… there's something weird about–” she was still in words when she hastily got interrupted.“I don't care whatever! Has he been divorced?” Barr. Frederick proactively expressed.“Yes… he has…although there was something strange about…” Michelle responded in a stuttering aura as she was unable to wrap her head around how her ex-husba

“Sir!!!” A hasty thudding footsteps persistently approached in a gasping breath. “Please come with me!” “Sir!” the stormy voice reverberated in its thickness. A seemingly frightened young man in his early twenties, in a fast heartbeat, vigorously sprinted towards Livingbird Memorial Cemetery, which was barely three minutes away from Southgate Godfrey's Lake. “It's extremely urgent!” “Please come with me!” The same alerted voice echoed across the quiet moody ambiance. On reflection, an angry, concocted voice expressed with brows furrowed. “Who the hell are you?! Can't you see I'm having quiet moments with the deceased?” a light-skinned man in his late sixties barked out in a sharp exhalation. “I’m sorry, but if it wasn't life-threatening. I wouldn't have called for your help. You need to–” he was still in speech before being aggressively interrupted. “And what!? What in heaven's name happened?” his eyes still on the cemetery ground. The young man replied after letting out

“Would you want to occupy the Royal Suite Bedroom or the Kingship Mortgage Bedroom?” Lord Eric delightfully inquired in a flash of hours. Michael Scofield stood in awe as his eyes profusely darted across the eye-catching spacious living room; absolutely a phenomenon. He irresistibly stood at a spot for almost two minutes with delightful, thick words hanging in his throat. “Any of the bedrooms would be perfect Sir,” he politely responded, still enthralled in bewilderment as he was yet to grasp who Lord Eric really was. In his past life endeavors, he had seen beautiful edifices and castles, but being a man with instilled maximum composure, he didn't really get swayed by them. However, Lord Eric’s mansion preceded his prominent personality as the wealthiest man in the Northern Hemisphere and the top five most influential personnel in Europe, which Michael wasn't yet aware of. The mansion was nothing short of premium and high class which exemplified his distinctive taste for va