CHAPTER HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE

RICHARD’S POV

The day of the chess challenge had arrived, and it felt like the city had turned out for the spectacle. As I approached the venue, a swarm of reporters descended on me like bees on honey. Cameras flashed, microphones were shoved in my face, and questions came at me from all directions.

“Richard, what’s your strategy for today?” one reporter asked, trying to look past the crowd to get a better shot.

“Just keeping it cool,” I replied, trying to avoid tripping over cables and people.

“Any last-minute preparations?” another voice chimed in.

“Not really. I’ve done what I can,” I said, waving a hand dismissively.

Finally, I managed to escape the throng and make my way to the challenge arena. It was a huge hall, buzzing with the low hum of anticipation. As I scanned the room, my gaze fell on the chess prodigy himself, Victor Tusk. He was seated at the chessboard, looking every bit the part of an unassailable genius.

But what really threw me off was the sight of my stepbrother