Jacob’s eyes fluttered open, disoriented by the cold, sterile environment. The fluorescent lights above flickered, casting a harsh glow on the room. He tried to move, but his body felt foreign, heavy. As he looked around, panic set in—he was in a morgue.“What… what’s happening?” Jacob whispered, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar.He glanced down at his hands. They were different—smoother, a different shade. His pulse quickened as he noticed another body on the adjacent slab, covered by a white sheet. Dread clawed at his insides as he reached out and pulled the sheet back, revealing a face he knew all too well—his own.“This can’t be real,” Jacob muttered, stumbling backwards until he collided with the wall. His mind raced, struggling to process the impossible.A noise outside the door jolted him from his thoughts. He needed to get out, away from this nightmare. He grabbed a set of clothes from a nearby desk, dressing quickly. With one last haunted glance at his former body, he slipped
Victor's eyes narrowed as he scanned the cemetery, his irritation simmering just below the surface. The funeral had drawn a larger crowd than he’d expected—too many unfamiliar faces. It was almost offensive. Jacob was never the type to have this many people care about him, was he? The idea feeding his frustration.His gaze roamed over the gathered mourners, landing on a man standing apart from the rest. Tall, with dark hair and an unsettlingly calm demeanour, the man seemed oddly detached from the proceedings. He wasn’t grieving. He was watching—watching too closely.Victor’s eyes lingered on him, a sliver of recognition tugging at the edges of his memory, but it slipped away as quickly as it came. Who the hell was he?The stranger noticed Victor's gaze and looked away, a slight smirk playing on his lips as if he were amused by Victor’s scrutiny. The audacity irked Victor, but as he confronted the man, Amelia's cold hand slipped into his arm, guiding him away. He shot one last glance
The car ride to the Blackwell estate was silent. The only sound was the steady rhythm of rain pelting against the windows. Anderson—formerly Jacob—sat rigid in the back seat, his mind swirling with questions and doubts. Every turn of the wheels seemed to pull him further from the life he had known and deeper into a world that was both foreign and familiar.His gaze drifted to the butler, who sat in the front, his back straight and composed. “Tell me something,” Anderson finally broke the silence, his voice laced with unease. “Why did my father—why did he never try to find me?”The butler didn’t turn around but responded with a calm, measured tone. “Your father’s decisions were always made with the family’s best interests in mind. When you were lost to us, he believed it was best to protect the family from the scandal. But he never stopped searching for you, Master Anderson. Not for a single day.”Anderson scoffed, his fingers tightening around the seatbelt. “So, he just let me live a
Mark paced back and forth in his small, dimly lit apartment, the phone pressed tightly against his ear. His heart pounded with anticipation and anxiety as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. The voice was distorted, disguised to keep its identity hidden, but Mark didn’t care. He had made his decision—there was no turning back now.“You’ve done well, Mark,” the voice said, calm and authoritative. “The police are acting on the information you provided. Victor will have a hard time explaining this one away.”Mark clenched his jaw, his hand trembling slightly as he gripped the phone. “This is only the beginning. I want to see Victor Montgomery pay for what he did to Jacob. He took everything from me.”“And you will have your revenge,” the voice assured him. “But remember, Mark, this isn’t just about Victor. There are bigger forces at play, and if you play your cards right, you could come out of this with more than just revenge.”“What do you mean?” Mark asked, his voice
Victor Montgomery sat in his office, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. His fingers traced the edges of the photograph on his desk—a picture of Anderson Blackwell at Jacob’s burial. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, his mind racing with questions that refused to settle."Why was Anderson Blackwell at Jacob’s burial?" he muttered, his voice low but edged with tension. The unease he felt had been gnawing at him ever since Jacob’s death, but this—this was something else. A piece of the puzzle that didn’t fit.Outside the office, a figure stood silently, ear pressed to the heavy wooden door. Every word Victor uttered sent a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over them. The tension in his voice was unmistakable, and it sent chills down their spine. Victor was close to figuring it all out, and if he did, there would be no escape for anyone involved.Inside, Victor’s voice cut through the silence again, sharper this time. "And Mark… Why haven’t I heard from him? Could he be the one w
Anderson Blackwell stood frozen in the dimly lit kitchen, the note in his hand and the phone pressed to his ear, but something didn’t sit right with him. The number he had just dialed remained uncalled, his finger hovering over the screen. His gut churned, a deep sense of foreboding washing over him."Why would they leave such an obvious trail?" he muttered to himself, the unease growing within him. The whole setup reeked of a trap, something designed to lure him into a situation from which he might not emerge alive. His intuition had saved him before, and he wasn’t about to ignore it now.He slowly lowered the phone, his mind racing. The stakes were too high to rush in blindly. If this was a trap, he couldn’t afford to fall into it—not with so much on the line. Mark’s life was important, but so was his own. He needed to approach this carefully, think several steps ahead of whoever was orchestrating this.Slipping the note into his pocket, Anderson made up his mind. He would bide his
The morning light filtered through the grand windows of the Montgomery mansion as Victor paced across his study. He barely noticed the subtle opulence that surrounded him—his thoughts were consumed by the approaching storm. The police were set to question him and his household tomorrow, a prospect that made his blood boil. But today was different. Today, they had received an unexpected invitation.A crisp, cream-colored envelope lay on Victor's desk, its contents as troubling as the looming investigation. His mother, Amelia, stood nearby, her expression as unreadable as ever."Anderson Blackwell," Victor muttered under his breath as he read the invitation again, the words almost searing into his mind. "The Blackwells are hosting a celebration tonight to formally welcome him home, just a month after his arrival. What a convenient time for them to make a move.""Indeed," Amelia replied, her voice cold and measured. "The Blackwells must be feeling confident, with their heir finally settl
Anderson returned home tonight, his body aching, his mind clouded with the events of the day. The grand halls of the Blackwell estate, usually a symbol of power and control, felt suffocating. His footsteps echoed in the silence as he made his way to the drawing room, fatigue evident in every step.The butler, ever vigilant, appeared almost immediately. His practiced eyes took in Anderson's disheveled appearance, the tension in his shoulders, the weariness etched on his face. “Master Anderson,” the butler greeted him, his voice a smooth whisper in the quiet room, “you look exhausted. Shall I have the maids prepare something for you to eat?”Anderson nodded without meeting the butler’s gaze. Moments later, a procession of maids entered, their trays laden with the finest offerings—roast duck, lamb chops, fresh salads, and decadent desserts. The aroma of the rich dishes filled the air, but Anderson didn’t even glance at them as he lost his appetite.“No,” Anderson said abruptly, his voice