Max was on his way home from work when his driver pointed out that a car had been following them. Max turned around and peered through the back glass to confirm. He noticed a silver SUV trailing behind them, so he asked his driver to take a detour.
"They're still coming after us sir, what do I do ?" His driver asked. Max pulled out his cellphone and called Marcus. "Hey Marcus, I don't know what to do, but someone seems to be following us." Max said with a hint of panic buried in his voice. "Calm down master Max, tell me exactly where you are and I'll send some officers to your location this minute," Marcus said, trying to get him to calm down. The driver increased his speed trying to evade the pursuers. But as he made a right turn, the SUV rammed into the back of the car. The driver lost control and crashed into the tree on the alley. He was lucky the air bag got deployed and prevented him from sustaining a fatal injury. Max was concussed and his vision became blurry. His ears rang with a high pitch intensity and he couldn't hear a single word. Some masked men got down and opened his side of the door. They dragged him out and carried him into their vehicle. Max passed out a few minutes after. He woke up to find himself tied to a chair. His arms bound behind him and his mouth sealed with duck tape. Before him stood two armed men. One of them noticed he had regained his consciousness so they stepped closer and slapped him. Making his blood run sharp. And his eyes wide open. "Wake up you stupid fool. Open your eyes " the man said. Max looked at the man with fear in his eyes. He looked at the man who struck him. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't speak. He simply stared at him. "Look at the man you want to take over, this weakling. How is he supposed to stand up for himself, let alone protect what he has from Lenox?" The man who stood in front of him. The first man took off his mask. He stood six feet tall, well built and muscular, dark hair and brown eyes. He looked familiar but Max's mind couldn't pin point where he had seen him before. "My name is Alfred thorn. Son of Marcus thorn," He said as he approached. The other man stepped aside as he took off his mask as well. Him Max didn't recognize. It was the first time he'd seen him. Alfred took tape off Max's mouth. "You must be wondering why I kidnapped you? Well it's better I show you," Alfred said. He gave the second man a look and signaled him to bring forward a laptop. He played a video recording. Max recognized the place to be his new apartment. He saw men with masks and guns storm in. They were furious to have not met him in the house. "As you can see, they also wanted you. But they didn't want to talk to you, Maxwell, they wanted to kill you," Alfred said. He cut the ropes that bound Maxwell to the chair. He knew if he got up and tried to escape, the men there were capable of beating the life out of him. " What do you want with me ?" Max asked the man. The man smiled at him for a bit before he answered. "I'm here to save you from your miserable existence, you either live, fight and claim what is yours, or succumb and die like the coward you've always been. The man began to take off his shirt, like he was gearing up for a fight. He bowled his fists and raised his hands like a boxer who got into a defensive stance. Max got up and reluctantly did the same. He had never been in a fight before but if his life was on the line, he had to put up a fight at least. Alfred stepped forward and swung towards his head. Max dodged but didn't see the second one coming. It landed and sent him to the ground. "Get up and put your hands up!" Alfred screamed at him. Max clenched his fists and got up. There was no way he could take Alfred. He was a trained fighter and that much was obvious. How was he going to subdue him when he had no experience. Max charged at him throwing his hands as fast as he could. He kept swinging and missing, until one punch landed. He was happy even though his joy lasted for a very short moment. Alfred picked him up and began to rain punches in combinations at him. He beat Max within an inch of his life, then took a few steps back. He yelled at him to get up knowing it would be impossible for a man without heart to do so. Much to his approval, Max did and raised his hands. His face was bloodied and his left eye was swollen , he could barely see through it. Even though he could barely stand. Max knew this was it and he wasn't going to die without a fight. "Come on, I'm not going quietly into the night you bastards, bring everything you've got, I'm gonna keep fighting until I have no breath in my lungs, I've been a coward for too long, I will no longer suffer in silence," Max screamed. He heard the sound of someone clapping behind him as they approached. He turned around to find Marcus. He was surprised but still on guard as he didn't trust anyone at that point. "I knew I was right to have faith in you. You're an exemplary man Maxwell, but you have a long way to go before you earn your name and position amongst the Silver crescent clan. But tonight, you've shown me and my son here, we were right to back you," Marcus said. "So you set this up, what kind of twisted game are you guys playing here," Max asked with his fists still balled up. "It's no game Max, Lenox really did try to take you out of the picture tonight, and if I and my man here hadn't intervened,he might have succeeded," Alfred explained. "So what now?" Maxwell asked. "Now, we seal your positions by showing the rest of the clan you're not a push over, but that's going to be difficult seeing as you're a shitty fighter, if Lenox challenges you to a duel, you'd lose," Alfred said. "Yes, but we'll train you, make you into a formidable adversary and keep your mind and body sharp," Marcus added. "But that's only if you're willing to fight for what's yours, what your Father died to protect, and what your mother went through hell to keep you away from," He said. "What do you mean?" Max asked with a curious tone. " Come with me , it's time you learnt about your real parents , maybe that'll help you understand just how important and crucial you are to our Clan and it's survival," Marcus said to him.Marcus and Alfred took Max to what looked like an old abandoned manor. It was made of bricks and had a distinct look about it. They drove into the main compound and helped Max get down. He was limping as a result of the beating he had taken earlier that evening. "Damn Alfred, you really tuned him up good, didn't you ?" Marcus said as they walked towards the main entrance. It was bolted shit and bound with a set of chains and a heavy padlock. Marcus brought out the key from his pocket and unlocked the padlock and the door while Alfred helped Max stand on his feet. "I had to make it look real, no hard feelings right?" He asked Max who was too stunned by the building in front of him to answer. "Well, Master Maxwell, to your family manor, you see up until now I haven't told you somethings because I was waiting for the right moment, your name, your real name is , Maxwell Arnold Quentin III (the third) You are the only true heir of Lord Archer Arnold Quentin, and Lady Martha Arnold Que
James lingered at Emma’s side until the moon began its descent. She clung to his arm, her voice soft and pleading. “Aren’t you staying the night with me?” Though he hesitated, her glassy eyes made him falter. With a forced smile, he sat back down, intending to leave once she drifted off. Her breathing eventually grew shallow and steady, but James found himself rooted in place. The night outside pressed against the window like a silent spectator, and with every tick of the clock, James felt his resolve weaken. Guilt gnawed at him, an emotion he couldn’t quite define, tangled between duty and something darker. Elsewhere, outside the hospital. Fiona Hawthorn stepped into the cold embrace of the night, her heels clicking faintly against the pavement. She lit a cigarette with shaking hands, taking a long drag that filled her lungs with smoke and a fleeting sense of calm. “You know smoking is prohibited here, right?” The voice startled her, deep and smooth like velvet over
Maxwell leaned against the hospital bed, the weight of Marcus’s words pressing down on him like a vice. His pulse raced, his mind spinning as decades of lies unraveled before him. “Your father,” Marcus began, his tone steady, “was the second-in-command of the Silver Crescent Clan, a family revered for its strength and influence. But his stepbrother, Alphonse, resented him. Alphonse was failing as clan leader—his reign marred by poor decisions and rebellion among the ranks. When certain members conspired to overthrow him, Alphonse pinned the blame on your father, Archer.” Maxwell’s fists clenched as he leaned forward. “So they turned the brothers against each other?” Marcus nodded solemnly. “The accusations created a rift that couldn’t be mended. Alphonse, blinded by paranoia and rage, believed the lies. He feared your father’s influence and sought to eliminate him... and his family.” The room seemed to close in around Maxwell as Marcus continued. “Alphonse hired assassins t
Maxwell stepped out of the room, his footsteps echoing faintly as he walked beside Marcus toward the hospital's main entrance. “You sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Marcus asked, his voice low but firm.“I’ll be fine. Just need some time to think,” Maxwell replied with a faint smile.Marcus nodded but didn’t leave it to chance. As he walked toward his car, he gave a subtle signal to one of the guards stationed nearby. The man nodded, understanding his silent instruction to keep a watchful eye on Maxwell while maintaining a discreet distance.Maxwell turned back into the hospital, his steps unhurried as he let his thoughts wander. The events of the past few weeks had transformed him into someone else. He was a man with purpose now, carrying the confidence of someone who had climbed out of the abyss, stronger and more determined than ever.As he rounded a corner, a faint hum drew his attention. By the vending machine stood a familiar figure. Her frame was smaller than he remembered—it
Maxwell leaned back in the leather seat of the sleek black SUV, staring out at the blur of the city. Despite being discharged from the hospital with a clean bill of health, his body betrayed him—each movement a sharp reminder of his recent collapse. The faint hum of the engine filled the silence, occasionally interrupted by static crackling from Jackson’s earpiece. Jackson, seated in the driver’s seat, kept his focus on the road. His stoic expression gave away little, but Maxwell sensed the man was preoccupied, likely replaying the intense conversation they’d had hours earlier. There was more to Jackson than his quiet demeanor—his presence was a constant reminder of the dangers Maxwell now faced. When the car rolled to a stop in front of the towering glass building that housed Maxwell’s penthouse, Jackson quickly stepped out to open the door for him. “Thanks,” Maxwell muttered, hesitating briefly before stepping onto the pavement. As they rode the elevator to his floor, Jackso
James stepped into the hospital lobby, just moments after Maxwell had left. He caught a glimpse of him sliding into the back seat of a sleek black SUV, a man in a tailored suit opening the door for him. It was clear the man wasn’t just a driver—he exuded authority, the kind that turned heads. Tempted to approach, James took a step toward the vehicle, his curiosity burning, but as his eyes landed on the imposing figure of Jackson standing nearby, he stopped. Something about the man’s sharp gaze and controlled demeanor sent a warning signal through James’s gut. Without a word, he turned back toward the hospital. Inside, when the receptionist informed him that Emma had been moved to an executive wing reserved for VIPs, his curiosity only deepened. Though he masked his reaction, the unexpected shift left him unsettled. A nurse arrived to guide James through the exclusive wing. She was polite but distant, her demeanor professional. James couldn’t help but notice the contrast between
The room carried the weight of memories, the scent of aged wood mingling with stale tobacco. Lenox stood near the doorway, his posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. The faint creak of the floorboards beneath his boots was the only sound, punctuating the tense silence as he stared at the frail figure of Alphonse, his adoptive father, slumped in a king-size armchair. Once a towering presence, Alphonse had been a man whose word could bend others to his will, a force of nature who commanded loyalty and fear in equal measure. But now, age had whittled him down, his frame thin and brittle. Still, the sharpness in his voice remained, an echo of the man he once was. “How dare you show your face here?” Alphonse's voice sliced through the air. “After all I’ve done for you? After the life I gave you, you walk in here like this—a weakling?” Lenox’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. His expression was stoic, carved from stone, his gaze steady and unyielding. Silence was his shiel
James leaned back in his leather chair, the tension in his shoulders betraying his outward calm. A crisp stack of documents sat on his desk, its bolded figures blurring under his sharp gaze. The offer from the board was too good to be true—a staggering buyout that promised wealth for all involved. But the fine print was unmistakable: agreeing meant relinquishing control of the company he had painstakingly built. This wasn’t just business; it was betrayal disguised as opportunity. The board, long resentful of James’s dominant hold, clearly saw this as their chance to strip him of power. He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. Losing was not an option.Moments later, James stepped into the conference room. The tension in the air was palpable, the polished marble floor reflecting his determined stride. The board sat stiffly, their expressions carefully blank, but one figure at the head of the table sent a jolt through James. Lenox. James’s stomach turned. Lenox’s reputation precede