Cozbi's keen, inquisitive voice cut like a razor across the room. She squinted as she examined Megan with a fresh focus. Loulou tensed, a glimmer of astonishment showing through her composed demeanor. The shock that went through him was too strong even for Alex to conceal. Megan turned back slowly, her posture rigid but her smile gentle, giving the impression that she was unconcerned. "Yes, I have collaborated with Mr. Frost on several projects. In the real estate industry, I am one of his reliable associates. Megan's mind was obviously racing as Cozbi's scrutinizing gaze lingered on her. Finally, with a slow, menacing smile on her lips, she replied, "Interesting." Few people may say they belong to Mr. Frost's inner group. He's a bit of a mystery, don't you think? “Very,” Megan replied smoothly. “But he values loyalty and competence, which is why I’ve had the privilege of working closely with him. Is there something specific you’d like to know about him, Mrs. Reed?” Cozbi’s smile
Megan could see the ambition burning in Cozbi’s eyes, the desire to claw her way to the top no matter the cost. It was almost laughable. Almost. She couldn’t allow Cozbi to fall into her own trap. No, Megan needed Cozbi to believe she was on her side, to think that her ambition was just a small thing in the grand game. "Well," Megan said, her voice cool but laced with the weight of experience, "I don’t doubt that you have the drive. But you have to be very careful who you’re targeting. There’s more at play here than you realize. Mr. Frost doesn’t just hold power—he holds all the cards. And someone like you, Cozbi... well, you wouldn’t want to be caught in the crossfire, would you?" Cozbi’s smile tightened, but Megan could see the wariness creeping into her eyes. She had her attention. Megan wasn’t backing down, but she was playing the part—planting the seed of doubt. After all, she wasn’t about to let Cozbi ruin everything she’d worked for. Cozbi straightened, eyes glinting with
Nathan shut the door and walked to the helicopter, Beatrice and Emma walking behind him. It was an emotional scene as they watched Nathan go. Yet again. Emma was broken and sad. The fact that she could do nothing to help Nathan who had done so much for her was saddening. She wished she could do something to help. He had gone through hell, lost families, lost friends, lost his sister, lost battles and now, he was losing himself. Nathan wore a black suit, a black tie and a black shirt. Everyting he wore from head to toe was pure black, well, except for his necklace. It was a bright-red necklace that Kamsi crafted for him many years ago as a gift for his birthday. He had the necklace on for many years but had always had it hidden inside his clothes. Seeing the beads tingled his eyes and wrecked his soul. But maybe that was the problem, running away from everything when he should be standing and fighting back. And this time, the necklace would be a reminder of that fact. “But Natha
“It is a wonderful day, friends and family. We have every cause to rejoice and celebrate.” Mr. Donald raised his glass up, letting the light from the chandelier bounce on the golden cup. The whole family and friends were there. The Davenport family, Donald and his son Charles who was as mute as the silence in his head, Mr. Hearst and his family, including his daughter whom he wedded out to the Hearst family. It was a huge table and food was spread across the extremely large table. It was a grand celebration. The downfall of Nathan was not an easy task. It took years for this feat to be accomplished. For Mr. Donald, it was a really huge triumph, one he had been planning for years. Ever since Nathan was ruling the Reed Empire many many years ago, Donald had always seen Nathan as an insurmountable obstacle. From a young age, even in college days, Nathan was a pain in his ass. A really horrible pain. Nathan wasn’t just a ruler of an empire; he was a force, someone who turned chal
Charles’s head snapped in his father’s direction, his eyes wild. "Enough? Oh, now you decide what’s enough, Father? After all the lives you’ve destroyed? After you turned us into pawns for your schemes? You don’t get to tell me when to stop!" Lucas’s fear turned into humiliation, and he tried to regain some control. "Let him talk, Mr. Donald. Your son has been hiding behind his silence for too long. Let’s see what this failure has to say!" The jab landed like a slap in the face, but Charles didn’t flinch. He released Lucas, shoving him backward so forcefully that the man stumbled into his chair, spilling his wine across the table. Then, he spat on the man’s face. Charles straightened, his voice steady but filled with venom. "You think I’m a failure, Lucas? Look around. Every single person seated here today, apart from my sister is not just a failure but a disaster and a loser in life. Your souls were carved from the devil’s balls and even the devil is scared of your lives.” As h
Leon's detachment was not a defense mechanism; it was a deliberate choice. Feelings were liabilities, vulnerabilities that could be exploited. His father, Samuel, had taught him that much. The world didn’t care for softness or sentiment, so Leon had eradicated them, one painful layer at a time, until only the cold, calculating shell remained. Yet, as Leon's sharp eyes lingered on Charles, a flicker of curiosity broke through his indifference. Charles was different from the usual players in these games of power and dominance. There was a rawness to him, a defiance that refused to die despite his shattered state. Leon could see it in the clenched fists at Charles's sides, the way his eyes darted between his father and the Langfords, searching for some shred of dignity in this public humiliation. "Donald," Samuel began, his voice smooth yet razor-edged. "I see your family affairs are as colorful as ever. A shame, really. But I’m not here for entertainment." Donald straightened, the b
“Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear asshole. Sad birthday to you!” Kamsi sang with so much passion that the mirror on her wall almost broke. He reached out to the teddy bear on her left and snapped its head off, spilling the Polyester Fiberfill all over the room. “Ah! There’s not much blood! I need blood! How can I kill Nathan if I can’t stand seeing blood?!” She roared to herself. Then, she looked over to the table on the corner of the room. “Yes! This is it!” She muttered to herself. She smiled evilly as the toad watched her in fear, as if knowing what the 19 years old girl was about to do to her. Its eyes suddenly bulged out. Perhaps it was trying to appear cute. Its Kawaii face was pronounced as its pleading, wide round eyes bulged out, almost popping out of its head. “Ah, poor thing. It’s sad to see you die. But I have kept you in that jar for too long. I am devising a plan to kill my brother, Nathan for all he did to me. You should be gratef
Charles’ being in his father —ex father’s— mansion was a taboo, a crime that could cost his life. He had been disowned by his father, and he knew the risk he was taking by showing up here. Yet, he had his reasons. Kamsi stood frozen, staring at him with wide, confused eyes. The knife still clenched tightly in her hand, her breath quick and shallow. The shock of seeing Charles was one she found it hard to phantom. But she really did not care. "Charles?" Her voice was almost a whisper, a mix of disbelief and rage. "What the hell are you doing here? Your father disowned you and you know what it means if he finds you here, right?!" Charles hushed her quickly before she would draw unusual attention. “Listen, I do. I am aware. I sneaked in through the gate, undercover. And I did all of these because I needed to see you, Kamsi. To tell you things. Your brother, Nathan, look, I know you do not want to heart anything about hm, but you have to listen, Kamsi, my dad is a monster and he does n
But all of those were now wishes. All he could do now as weep and wonder what kind of life Donald would set for his sister. Donald owed him and he had just 20 hours left. A dramatic event was about to happen. Donald would be exposed and the Langfords would finally end him. Other men, women and children who once admired Nathan Reed weeped at Mr. Frost’s emotional speech. The announcment of the grande reveal of the Genesis Project came with an intoxication of excitement and sorrow. Overall, it was the perfect speech. People were glad to know that the Genesis project was complete. Though it has not been opened and inaugurated, thousands of people were already waiting in line to invest, rent, buy and do anything possible to be part of a new life, a new city. And Kamsi? Her eyes were swollen and red. She had cut her hair in agony. She found herself crying in her room for her brother with so much enthusiasm. She had been planning on killing him, on taking her revenge on him. But now, sh
The camera zoomed in on him. His face was stoic, unreadable, a man who held the power of a thousand empires in his gaze. “And as for Nathan Reed,” Mr. Frost said, a shadow crossing his face. “I will honor him. I will honor the man who gave us this chance, who built the foundation upon which we will all stand. His legacy is my responsibility now. His dream is my reality.” There was a brief pause before he added, almost in a whisper, “And no one will ever forget Nathan Reed. He may be gone, but his soul lives in The Genesis Project. He will return!” Dave and Anastasia watched from their end, having mixed feelings. It was emotional, but they hated the fact that though dead, Nathan somehow found his way to rise above them. Dave had always hated Nathan. Perhaps it was time to let the hate go. Or maybe not. From the Davenport end, no one said a word as they all sat in silence watching as Mr. Frost spoke. Anita was no longer part of the family. She had found her trajectory in life, a
“Breaking News!” The reporter had a smile on her face. Her grin was wide enough to cover the entire screen. “9 years ago, a young genius came up with the most astute, revolutionary idea the world has ever seen. The late Mr. Nathan Reed was the mastermind behind ‘The Genesis Project,’ the world’s largest and most ambitious urban development to date. He partnered with Elon Musk’s Empire, bringing the idea to life with the help of his brilliant mind and vision. But today, we stand at the dawn of a new era. The project that started as a dream is now a reality — a mega city, capable of housing millions, designed with state-of-the-art technology, sustainability, and innovation at its core. In an astonishing turn of events, the project has now been completed under the leadership of the mysterious Mr. Frost, who has taken over from Mr. Reed’s legacy. Sources say Mr. Frost, who inherited control of Elon Musk’s empire, has personally overseen the final stages of the Genesis Project. Whi
Then, he pointed to some images of some really big and influential business men and women along with top tier kids with the X mark on them with a marker paint? Or blood? It didn’t matter. The message was clear. “Listen, Kamsi, the world is a gameboard,” Donald said, his tone cold and deliberate. “And every single player is either an asset or a liability. Those marked here…” —he gestured to the images with red Xs— “were liabilities. People who stood in the way of progress. My progress. And now, they’re nothing. Pew… Vanished like thin air!” Kamsi’s eyes scanned the board. She recognized some faces—politicians, CEOs, heirs to fortunes. People who, at one point, seemed untouchable. Yet here they were, reduced to mere trophies on Donald’s twisted scoreboard. “So, this is your playbook?” she asked, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “You decide who lives and who dies?” Donald smiled, a dark and knowing expression. “Not quite. I don’t kill for sport, Kamsi. I kill
“Where are you going child?” Asked Donald. Kamsi paused and turned around. “I’m going to kill Alex,” She said flatly. “Since you are not going to do anything even though I’ve told you all the things he did to me. So, I am going to take matters into my own hands!” Donald smiled and scoffed. He got up from his office chair, walked to the front of his table and sat on it. “Tell me how exactly you plan to do that child! You’re gonna just show up to his face and put a bullet through his skull?” He asked. “Well, yes. That is exactly what I am doing. I don’t think you understand the things he did to me. Every night for years I cried my lungs out! You’re becoming too weak and…” “Shh…” Donald shushed her and walked towards her. Then, he placed her head on his chest. “Let it out kid. Let it out.” “Now… now my fucking brother is dead and I was not the one who killed him. I deserved to be the one to take his life, Donald!” Kamsi's voice cracked as she buried her face in his chest. Her
“Who the fuck are you?” cried the dude in pain as he managed to pick himself up and ran away. Emily, seeing that their attack and defense system was weak, began to back off. “Fuck you! You are fighting for this ugly, bitch. This is not new to her, stupid. Her boyfriend does worse every day. Good luck saving her from herself and from her boyfriend. You are a fool!” Emily then ran along with the rest of them. Those words rang in Mr. Frost’s ear over and over again, ‘Her boyfriend does worse everyday!’ That explained so much. So much. Her innocent smile, the bag beneath her eye, the hesitation in her voice, and the way she deflected kindness—it all made sense now. Mr. Frost clenched his fists, his sharp mind processing every detail with surgical precision. He turned to Clara, who was slumped on the ground, her arms shielding her face as though bracing for more blows. “Clara,” he said softly, his tone stripped of its usual calculation, replaced with genuine concern. “It’s over. Yo
Emily glared at her but said nothing, muttering under her breath as she stalked off. Clara watched her leave, then returned to him with a faint, embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry about that. She’s… well, she can be difficult.” “It’s not your fault,” he replied, sipping his water. “But I appreciate your intervention.”Clara hesitated, then leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. “You know, I couldn’t help but notice how calmly you handled that. Most people would’ve made a scene.” He smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “I’ve learned that making a scene rarely solves anything. Besides, it wasn’t worth the energy.” Clara nodded, studying him for a moment before straightening up. “Well, if you need anything else, just call for me.” Before she turned to leave, he stopped her. “Here, my card. If you want, I could fix you up to something tonight or anytime you are free. There are like just two of you left in this world and I feel compelled to compensate you! My na
He walked into the restaurant, blending seamlessly into the mundane hum of everyday life. His attire was plain—a worn jacket, a modest button-down shirt, and slacks that spoke of a man who had neither wealth nor prestige. It was all part of the act. He moved with an unassuming grace, each step measured, each movement calculated to ensure no one looked twice. Sliding into a seat near the window, he scanned the room. The clink of cutlery, the murmur of quiet conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air. It was a world that seemed to forget its troubles, even if just for a while. A young waiter approached, her notepad in hand. “Your order, sir?” she asked flatly, her tone betraying a routine she had repeated countless times that day and other days and probably all her life as a teenager. He looked up at her, a soft smile on his face, his eyes crinkling just enough to seem harmless. “Water,” he said simply. Her pen paused midair, and her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Mr. Donald, tell us, is it true?” “Are all the accusations true?” “Is it true that you orchestrated the death of Nathan Reed? That you put a bomb on his chopper?” “The public needs and answer, Mr. Aruthur!” Donald ignored all the questions, walking into the building facility like he was truly guillty, his face as stiff as the knot of his tie and the belt around his waist. He went straight into the reception area, his personal security walking besides and behind him, and then he demanded to see the CEO, Samuel Langford. Donald had so many reasons to point fingers at Samuel for the incident that happened to Nathan. He had every cause to believe that Samuel planned every detail so it would expose him to the world. After all, they were having an intense feud as he owed the Langfords over 100 Million Euros. “Sorry sir, you can not see Mr. Langford at the moment. He is occupied and is not accepting visitors that are not family members or important friends. And you would need