Anderson Blackwell sat in the dimly lit confines of his office, the weight of the morning pressing heavily on his shoulders. The gentle light filtering through the large windows did little to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. He drummed his fingers against the oak desk, the muted rhythm mirroring his scattered thinking. The financial reports were spread out in front of him, but the numbers no longer mattered.“Why did she get bail?” Anderson muttered, his voice low and edged with suspicion. Lena Thompson had pleaded guilty. A sentence was imminent. Granting bail—especially to someone accused of murder—was unprecedented. He rose from his chair, pacing with sharp, calculated steps. His gaze fell on the sprawling landscape beyond the window, but his thoughts were miles away.Victor Montgomery. Ruthless, meticulous Victor. He would never allow something so reckless as Lena’s release. It wasn’t his style. No, Victor always tied up loose ends. Lena should’ve been left to ro
Anderson Blackwell’s stare didn’t waver as Judge Hamilton’s carefully controlled expression remained intact. His voice, calm but loaded with intensity, cut through the tension in the room like a blade.“I’m just interested in the case,” Anderson replied, his voice steady, but his eyes sharp as a hawk’s. “But I find it fascinating how quickly you’re trying to shift the topic. It's almost as if you’ve got something to hide.”The judge didn’t flinch. Her poise, built from years of courtroom battles and political manoeuvring, stayed firm. She was an expert at maintaining control, but Anderson could see the gears turning behind her cold, calculating eyes. He leaned closer from across the table, lowering his voice but amplifying the threat beneath his words.“You’re not just a judge, are you? This isn’t just another case to you.”Hamilton’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, her grip tightening on the edges of her desk. Still, she refused to acknowledge the accusation, keeping her cards close.
Lena’s heart pounded as the metal door of her cell creaked open. The officer’s voice, as impersonal as ever, cut through the drab monotony. “You’ve got a visitor, Thompson. Follow me.”With cautious hope, Lena followed the officer down the sterile hallway, her thoughts racing with the possibility that Victor had come to see her. The anticipation was a fleeting comfort, but when the door to the visitor’s room opened, her hope was dashed. Judge Hamilton stood there, her presence commanding and unexpectedly somber.Hamilton’s usually detached demeanour softened slightly as she looked at her niece. “Lena,” she began, her voice laced with a rare note of genuine concern. “How are you holding up?”Lena managed a strained smile. “I’m managing. But I didn’t expect to see you here. What’s going on?”Hamilton’s face grew serious, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I came to give you a warning. You know the Blackwells recently found their heir—Anderson Blackwell. He knows all about your case. Be very
Anderson’s gaze remained fixed on the butler, his fork still poised in mid-air. The weight of the butler’s question hung between them like a dark cloud, thickening the air in the quiet room. A chill seemed to settle over the space, an invisible tension gnawing at the edges of both men’s composure.The butler took a hesitant step forward, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Who are you, truly?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an almost accusatory force. His question was no longer simply an inquiry—it was a demand, driven by an unsettling truth, he was on the cusp of uncovering.Anderson set the fork down deliberately, the silver clinking softly against the plate, and leaned back in his chair, a calculated calm washing over his expression. His every movement was measured, as though he was weighing each moment, each breath. "Who do you think I am?" he asked, his voice smooth, controlled—a predator testing the limits of its prey.The butler stiffened, the answ
Uncle Judas slammed his fist against the table, his face contorted in fury as he watched the news on the large screen. “This boy is doing the complete opposite!” he roared. “He’s dragging our name through the mud! What is he thinking?” His frustration was palpable as he seethed over the latest developments.Evelyn, his wife, entered the room, her face marked with concern. “Judas, you need to calm down,” she said softly. “You’re going to make yourself ill with all this anger.”Judas shot her a fierce look. “Calm down? Look at this!” He jabbed at the screen where Anderson Blackwell canceled a product launch he was supposed to oversee. “Instead of attending the board meeting, which was critical, he’s overruled the entire launch. It’s a disaster!”Evelyn approached him cautiously. “I understand you’re frustrated. But yelling at the screen won’t fix anything. What’s our next move?”Judas’s eyes were wild with rage. “This isn’t just a minor issue. It’s catastrophic! The board meeting was cr
The soft creak of the church doors echoed through the empty nave as Amelia stepped inside, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and guilt. The scent of incense hung in the air, mingling with the faint light filtering through the stained glass windows. She hadn’t been here in ten years, not since the day her sins had sealed her fate."Father," Amelia whispered, approaching the confessional booth with heavy steps. A priest, older now but with the same kind eyes, stood near the altar. He turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes widening in surprise as he recognized her.“Amelia... It’s been a long time,” Father Michael said, his voice filled with both warmth and sorrow. “Ten years, if I’m not mistaken.”She gave a curt nod, her gaze drifting toward the altar as if searching for absolution in the flickering candles. "Yes, ten years... too long."The priest's eyes softened. “Why now? What has brought you back after all these years?”Amelia swallowed, her throat tight. “A grave dream, Fa
Amelia sat in her grand but dimly lit living room, the weight of Father Michael’s words pressing heavily on her chest. The comfort of home did little to quell the storm brewing inside her. The air in the room was thick, as if even the walls shared in her despair. Her hands trembled slightly as she glanced at the untouched tray of food the maid had quietly placed beside her hours ago. She hadn’t eaten all day. The thought of food churned her stomach, amplifying the nausea rising from the pit of her guilt.The door creaked open, breaking the stillness. Victor stepped inside, his presence imposing but gentle. His eyes, sharp and searching, immediately found hers. “Mother?” he called softly, his voice heavy with concern, though he tried to mask it. “Why haven’t you eaten?”Amelia’s heart clenched at the sound of his voice, a son’s devotion wrapped in every syllable. She turned slowly, her gaze lingering on his face, the strong jawline that reminded her so much of his father. But her mind
The butler stood quietly in the dimly lit study, his eyes fixed on Anderson Blackwell, who was pacing with restless energy. The room was strewn with papers and open books, the result of a long night of brainstorming. Anderson’s brow was furrowed in deep thought, his usually calm demeanour disrupted by the gravity of their situation. Finally, Anderson stopped pacing and turned to the butler. “We need to get Lena out of the country, away from Victor’s reach. I’ve decided she should be transported to Germany until after she delivers. It’s the safest option for her and the child.” The butler raised an eyebrow, though his expression remained inscrutable. “Germany? That’s quite a distance. And what about the logistics? We’ll need to ensure her safety during transit and once she arrives.” Anderson nodded sharply. “I know. We’ll have to use every resource at our disposal. Arrange for a discreet flight and make sure she’s guarded until she’s safely settled there.” The butler hesitated f