Sandra's newfound power was a double-edged sword, her success provoking the ire of her own family. As the realization of her triumph settled in, Marcus' voice cut through the silence like a knife, his smirk widening with glee."It's time to transfer your share of the property," he announced, his words echoing through the room like a death knell for Sandra's brother. The young man's jaw dropped in shock, the sting of betrayal burning in his chest. Under the collective gaze of the family, Sandra's brother stood frozen, a portrait of defeat and humiliation. The swift reversal of fortune had turned him from a patriarch into a pauper, his wealth and power slipping through his fingers like sand. Marcus, reveling in his victory, was the antithesis of Sandra's brother, his demeanor oozing with smug arrogance as he taunted the fallen man. "We're waiting," Marcus mocked, his eyes flickering to Sandra's brother, whose murderous glare seemed to seek a bloodier retribution. Marcus raised his e
Don stared at his father, bewildered. "How the heck is your phone ringing?" he asked. The older man frowned, scratching his head as he mumbled, "I don't know. This person must be smart.""Well, Dad, we only have one option left," Jack interjected, his voice calm and resolute. "We need to call the press and apologize to Marcus."The father's face darkened, his lips curling into a snarl. "Never!" he roared, his voice ringing with defiance.Don implored his father with a sense of urgency. "Everything is crumbling, Father. This is our only option left." But Jack hissed in disagreement, a vein pulsing in his temple. Don, fearing the loss of their fortune and status, feared being relegated to the poverty he had once known under Marcus. Jack, however, was stubbornly opposed to the idea of apologizing in public, his pride unwilling to accept the humiliation it would bring. The situation was dire, and both father and son found themselves at odds, as their differing values clashed in a stor
In a gesture of contrition, Jack clapped his hands together, the sound reverberating through the room. "Marcus, I am deeply sorry for the way I and my family have treated you," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.The Xavier family gasped in unison, their eyes bulging in shock at Jack's unexpected words. The press buzzed with excitement, their cameras flashing in a frenzied bid to capture the momentous occasion.Marcus smiled slyly, reaching out a hand to help Jack up. "No, sir, you did not offend me," he said with an air of mock graciousness. Jack gritted his teeth, secretly wishing to lash out at Marcus for his patronizing words. But he maintained his composure, standing up and muttering, "Thank you," through clenched teeth. Just as it seemed that the tension might finally diffuse, Marcus delivered a stunning revelation. "It's your son who needs to apologize for burning my house down," he said, his gaze landing squarely on Don."Get on your knees," Jack snarled, his voice l
Jack stormed into the his mansion, a cloud of fury rolling off him like a physical presence. His fists tightened and loosened repeatedly, his knuckles white and swollen from repeatedly striking the walls and furniture as he stalked through the halls. Don watched from the shadows, his eyes clouded with confusion and shame. This was undoubtedly the most humiliating day the Jack family had ever experienced. And to add insult to injury, the house they had given Marcus had drained their already depleted finances. "He's going to pay for this," Jack growled, his voice a guttural promise of revenge.“How do we make him pay?" Don asked, each syllable dripping with malice. Jack fixed his son with a piercing glare, his voice bristling with unspoken disappointment and rage. "If only you had half the sense of your enemy, we wouldn't be in this mess!" He said.“Father, what's my offense now?” Don asked angrily, his face flushed with anger and resentment, uncorked the vodka bottle, taking a l
Marcus, his mind racing, was lost in thought when the vice's question cut through the silence. "Sir, are you still on the phone?" He asked. “Hmm!” Marcus hummed his response, grappling with the weight of the situation.He spoke decisively, his voice steady despite the internal chaos. "Contact the Army general. I'll be there soon," he instructed before terminating the call. Marcus steeled himself, his determination clear in the set of his jaw as he prepared to face the unknown.As Marcus rose to his feet, his hand hovering near the door handle, Sandra's voice broke through the quietude of the room. "Going somewhere?" she inquired, her posture languid on the bed. "Yeah, I'll be right back," Marcus responded, his reply curt as he hesitated to divulge more."Can I come along?" Sandra probed, her eagerness palpable in her tone.Without a moment's hesitation, Marcus uttered a resolute "No," his refusal steely and definitive.Sandra's eyes widened in surprise at Marcus' unexpected outbur
Jack, the tension palpable in his movements, was pacing the room when his phone rang. He answered the call, his voice brisk and curt. "Yes?""Sir, we've sent it to you," the voice on the other end of the line replied."Thank you," Jack murmured, his tone flat and uninterested. He ended the call and opened the document, his eyes scanning the contents. His brow furrowed in frustration as he surveyed the information. "There's nothing special about Marcus," he hissed, the words dripping with disappointment.The futility of his efforts was a bitter pill to swallow, Jack's frustration mounting with each dead-end discovery. As his mood soured, he turned on the TV, only to be met with the infuriating sight of himself kneeling before Marcus, the image a haunting reminder of his humiliation. His jaw clenched, a vein pulsing in his temple as his teeth ground against one another, a barely contained fury seething within him. He seethed, his hatred for Marcus fueling a fire that threatened to con
Owen, the rage finally spent, stood over Amayah, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. His satisfaction was palpable in the stillness of the room, his eyes raking over her battered form with a cruel glint. With a final, vicious kick, he wrenched his foot away, Amayah's agonized wails reverberating through the air. Wrapping her hands around her stomach, she crumpled into a ball on the floor, her body wracked with pain.Owen picked his shisha pot, and with a hiss he opened the door. As Owen left the room, the slam of the door a punctuation mark to his violence, Amayah lay sobbing on the floor, her body wracked with sobs.Twenty-two years of her life had passed without a man raising his hand to her. Marcus had always treated her like a queen, never once inflicting physical or emotional pain upon her. The cruel betrayal of Owen's assault was a shattering blow, his viciousness a shock to her system.Amayah's tears continued to flow, a torrent of grief and pain streaming down her f
Marcus sprinted towards Sandra, kneeling by her side as he gently tapped her cheek. "Sandra, open your eyes," he pleaded, his voice a mixture of desperation and fear. Yet, there was no response from the unconscious woman. He repeated his plea, each word more urgent than the last, but her eyes remained shut. Marcus turned his gaze towards the general, his face a blank slate, a sense of dread creeping up his spine. "What's going on?" he asked, the words tumbling from his lips.The urgency of the situation weighed heavy on Marcus, as he swiftly scooped up Sandra, her limp form a reminder of their dire predicament. He dashed towards the car, his footfalls thundering against the pavement, the night air biting at his skin. The general remained behind, his impassive countenance a stark contrast to the turmoil in Marcus's mind. He knew the risks, knew that the culprit could return, but this was a chance he was willing to take.With each passing second, Marcus's anxiety mounted. The safety