The next morning, the group gathered again. The room was thick with unspoken accusations and doubts about trust. Ethan felt the tension as he walked in, but he kept his face neutral. He knew they had all spent the night scheming, trying to figure out how to position themselves as the best choice for leadership. But he wasn’t worried. He had expected this.They all took their seats around the table, the silence heavy as they waited for someone to speak. Gerald was the first to break the silence.“We’ve all had time to think about this, and it’s clear this isn’t just about popularity,” Gerald began. “This is about survival. Honestly, I don’t care who leads, as long as they can get the job done.”Rhys nodded, even though his expression was still guarded. “Agreed. But that’s the issue, isn’t it? Who can actually get the job done?”Denera leaned forward. “We all know what this is really about. It’s not just about survival, as Gerald said—it’s about power. And I’m not about to hand that ove
Jason sat in his fully furnished office, facing his computer screen. The blue glow from his computer screen cast shadows across his face. His leather chair squeaked as he leaned back, his fingers tapping the desk rhythmically as he muttered to himself. The room was messy with papers, files, and half-empty coffee cups all over the place. It had been a long night, and his obsession was taking over. He was fixated on one thing—finding out everything about Laurel.He pulled up her Facebook profile on the screen, scanning thoroughly through her pictures, posts, and comments. "Laurel," he whispered, clicking on a photo of her smiling at some fancy event. She was pretty, no doubt, with those big green eyes and a smile that could light up a room. But there was something about her that seemed off.She was too perfect, too composed—this was an organized profile made to fool people. He scrolled further, digging into her old posts."Who were you before all this?" he muttered, clicking on a photo
Her business was done.The woman stepped out of the building with a graceful poise that turned heads. Her heels clicked against the pavement with each measured and confident step. She was the great vision of class… all draped in a simple black dress that hugged her figure. What stood out more was the fabric catching the light just so and giving off a subtle shimmer. She was a head-turner even in the dark.Her hair was a sleek dark wave that framed her face—a face that was both called beautiful and wicked. She wore dark sunglasses that shielded her eyes, adding an atmosphere of mystery, but it did nothing to hide the sharpness of her gaze. The black envelope she had handed to the silly young man earlier was just a part of her day’s work—another move in a chess game she had been playing with her boss for far too long.Immediately she caught sight of the sleek black car waiting by the curb. A man she called Jackson stepped out quickly, opening the door for her with a respectful nod. This
Kenji reclined in the comfy leather chair, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest as he scrutinized the old man across from him. The atmosphere was thick with tension, almost suffocating as they locked eyes. The old man's proposition lingered between them like an unpleasant odor, and Kenji had no intention of making this easy.“So, let me get this straight,” Kenji started, his voice laced with sarcasm. “You want me to say that Ethan had nothing to do with human trafficking? That all the photos, the evidence, the gossip—everything—is just one big misunderstanding? And for this little favor, you’re offering me five million bucks?” He laughed derisively, shaking his head. “You must think I’m either desperate or completely clueless.”The old man’s face remained impassive. He was a veteran in these kinds of negotiations, but Kenji noticed the slight narrowing of his eyes and the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. Kenji was getting under his skin, and that gave him a bit of sa
It had been a week since the unsettling events on the yacht, and the heavy silence that followed felt almost suffocating. Ethan Anderson was now back in the comfort of his home, grappling with the fallout from those two tragic deaths. The yacht, which once represented luxury and power, had turned into a haunting reminder of the threats that surrounded him. Although the quiet from everyone involved was somewhat comforting, Ethan knew it wouldn’t last long.The secrecy pact made by those on the yacht was only a temporary fix, driven by their fear of what Ethan might do if their roles were revealed. But he was sure the others—Geralt, Lockwood, Walton, and Rhodes—wouldn’t stay silent forever. Their quietness was probably just the calm before a storm, as they would likely look for ways to turn the situation to their advantage.Ethan was caught in a storm of frustration and determination. He had to uncover the truth behind everything, and his first step was to track down the mysterious “tre
Denera was sipping a cold beer in a quiet area of the bar. With a look of anger on her face, she stared at her phone. She had previously requested a meeting with Jason via message, but he had not responded. In an effort to detach herself from the constant worry about him, she took a sizable sip. Her brain continued to float back to Jason, and the more she paused, the more unsettled she became. The stall was faintly lit, projecting a delicate gleam over her as she tasted her beverage. A figure suddenly walked up to her and entered the booth across from her. The newcomer leaned in and whispered something to Denera, attracting her attention. “Ethan is throwing the party at his house with the press. Did you not know?Denera’s eyes widened in shock. She nearly choked on her beer, her mind racing. “What?!” she exclaimed, louder than she intended. The noise from the bar seemed to swallow her words, but her panic was clearShe quickly pulled out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen a
Sandra sat at her kitchen table, the morning light barely touching her tired eyes. Her coffee was almost gone, cold and bitter, a sign of her sleepless nights. She stared into the cup, her mind full of worry and exhaustion.The maid, a young woman with a gentle touch, quietly entered the room. She looked at Sandra with concern. “Good morning, Mrs. Sandra. You look like you haven’t slept well. Is everything okay?”Sandra sighed heavily, shaking her head as she took another sip of coffee. “It’s been one of those nights. Not work or anything, just... stalking emails, calls, letters. It’s been constant.”The maid’s eyes widened. “Stalking? That sounds awful. Do you know who’s doing it?”Sandra shook her head. “No, not yet. I’ve been trying to trace the emails and calls, but they’re coming from different places. Did you find out anything?”The maid hesitated before speaking. “I found a name that keeps coming up—Jackson. His background is pretty unclear. I couldn’t find much on him, but he
Ethan stood in the grand foyer of his home, greeting guests as they arrived. His smile was polite, his handshake firm, but his mind was elsewhere. The elegant surroundings of the house, filled with chatter and laughter, couldn’t distract him from the growing worry he felt. He glanced at the door every few minutes, waiting.Finally, Sandra arrived. She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room quickly. Ethan noticed the tension in her shoulders and the way she held her bag close, as if ready to run at any moment. He immediately excused himself from the group he was talking to and walked over to her.“Sandra,” he said warmly, his voice low so only she could hear, “I’m glad you’re here. Come with me.”Sandra nodded, her face pale but determined. Ethan placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the crowd. They moved swiftly, avoiding the eyes of curious guests, until they reached a narrow hallway at the back of the house. Ethan opened a door that led outside, into a secl