The rhythmic thud of fists hitting the heavy punching bags filled the air of Ethan’s private gym, the sound accompanied by grunts of effort and the steady hum of machines. Ethan and Paul were sparring in the open area, the gleaming hardwood floor reflecting the bright overhead lights. It was early morning, and both men had been at it for almost an hour, sweat beading on their foreheads and rolling down their necks. Ethan, always competitive, threw a sharp jab, which Paul dodged, but not before Ethan followed up with a quick kick to his side.“Getting slow, Paul?” Ethan teased, grinning as he lowered his guard slightly.Paul rolled his eyes, stepping back to catch his breath. “Not slow, just giving you a chance for once.”Ethan chuckled, wiping his face with a towel. “You’re too generous, my friend.”The gym was a space designed for intensity—walls adorned with motivational quotes, sleek and minimalistic equipment lined up with precision, and the floor-to-ceiling windows gave a pano
The room was dimly lit, casting shadows that danced with every movement Jackson made. Sweat dripped from his brow as he jabbed at the air, the sound of his fists cutting through the silence. His breathing was steady, each punch more forceful than the last. He moved with precision, years of training evident in the way his body moved—a symphony of discipline and focus. The walls were bare except for a single mirror that reflected his intense expression, a man driven by secrets and ambition.Next, Jackson moved to the knife rack on the wall. He grabbed three blades, testing their weight in his hands. With a quick, practiced flick, he hurled them one by one at the target across the room. Each knife buried itself deep into the bullseye, the thud of steel hitting wood echoing through the space. He smiled grimly, satisfaction flickering briefly in his eyes before it was replaced by the familiar gnaw of doubt and anger.The memory crept in uninvited. Ethan. The crime. Ten years ago.He pa
The night was still, almost too quiet. A crescent moon cast its pale light over the secluded estate where Rhys moved through the garden, unaware that his every step was being mirrored by a group of men cloaked in shadows. Five of them, masked and silent, moved with the precision of predators stalking their prey. They stayed in the periphery, always out of sight, blending into the night. Their black attire made them nearly invisible in the low light, and the only hint of their presence was the soft shuffle of feet that the wind conveniently swallowed up.Rhys paused, glancing around briefly as though he sensed something was off, but the masked men had already melted into the darkness, crouching behind the dense shrubbery and trees. His phone rang, breaking the tension, and he answered, distracted by the conversation, continuing his walk toward the house. The men followed, their movements synchronized and calculated. They weren’t just watching; they were studying him, memorizing eve
Rhys stood in front of the Rhodes mansion, his fingers brushing against the iron-knobbed door. The grand estate loomed before him, a structure steeped in memories, both bitter and sweet. It had been weeks since he left, distancing himself from the chaos, from Denera, and from the life they had built together. Now, returning here felt strange, like stepping into a past he wasn’t sure he could face. His mind was still reeling from Sebastian’s visit, but his body was numb, moving on autopilot as he raised his fist and knocked.The door creaked open, and there she was—Denera. Her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and elation. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came at first. She blinked a few times, almost as if she wasn’t sure he was real. “Rhys…” Her voice finally broke the silence, and in it, there was so much emotion. Hope, confusion, longing.He saw her excitement, the way her body seemed to relax at the sight of him, as if expecting that this was it—that he had forgiven he
Mark Dave sat in the study of his room. A lot ran unhinged in his mind and he needed to reevaluate his stance in the war that was going on.Mark Dave had always been the reliable one, the trusted right hand to the Old Man. For years, he stood by, working hard, making sacrifices, and handling the details behind the Anderson’s business success. But no one ever saw it. No one ever gave him the credit he deserved. It was always The Old Man who got the applause, the recognition, and the spotlight. Every time Mark’s phone buzzed with congratulations, it wasn’t for him—it was for the man standing in front of him. As if that wasn’t enough, Ethan emerged out of nowhere and then completely shattered his dream of taking over from the Old Man.Ethan’s arrival to society further cemented his fate that he wouldn’t rise beyond his current status. Mark stared at the stack of papers on his desk, his hands clenched into fists. All these years, he had given everything to the company. He had kept thi
The city’s skyline glimmered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Ethan’s office. The late hour draped the room in shadows, but the soft glow from his desk lamp illuminated the papers strewn across his desk. Outside, the hum of traffic was faint, a distant reminder of the world moving beyond the walls of his empire. It was almost midnight, yet Ethan was still there, working. His mind had been racing ever since he’d received confirmation that Mark Dave was betraying him. The betrayal was like a dull ache in his chest, not because he hadn’t expected it but because he had hoped it wouldn’t be true. Mark had been by his side for a long time now. Trusted. Reliable. Or so he had thought.Now, the game had changed.He stood up from his leather chair and moved toward the window, hands clasped behind his back. The city below pulsed with life, unaware of the battle quietly unfolding in his world. Ethan had always prided himself on staying two steps ahead, and tonight would be no differe
The sunlight filtered through the large, intricately designed windows of Denera's room, casting delicate patterns on the walls. Her space was as elegant as she was—lavish furniture, soft carpets, and shelves lined with books on history, politics, and strategy. But today, her focus wasn’t on any of these things. Denera sat at her oak desk, her eyes cold, calculating, as she scribbled the last few details of her plan onto a notepad. Her lips curled into a sly smile. Today, she was preparing for something far more personal—eliminating her brother, Jason.Jason, always the arrogant one. Always thinking he could do whatever he wanted, that no one, not even his own sister, could bring him down. But Denera had been watching him for years, knowing his every move, his every vice. She had tolerated his reckless behavior long enough, but now, with his ambitions threatening to ruin everything, it was time to strike. And Denera knew her brother better than anyone. His weakness was women.It
The music in the club had become a muffled hum as Jason leaned back, thoroughly intoxicated, with the two women draped over him. Their flirtatious giggles filled the air, and Jason’s sense of reality had started to blur. He was tipsy, his usual sharpness dulled by the liquor and the attention. The night was going better than he had expected, and his ego swelled further, filling his head with thoughts of how lucky he was.One of the women, the blonde, nuzzled into his neck and whispered into his ear, "Why don’t we take this party back to your room?" Her words were warm, seductive, and exactly what Jason wanted to hear.He gave them both a lopsided grin. “Yeah?” He ran a hand through his hair, barely able to control his excitement. “Alright, let’s get out of here. My place isn’t far.”The two women giggled, their hands lazily caressing his chest. The brunette leaned in close and murmured, “Perfect.”Jason staggered as he stood up, his balance unsteady from the alcohol. The two women