Don and his entire family stepped out, their smiles wide and radiating as the press focused their cameras on them. Don’s father began to speak, his voice carrying across the crowd. “As you all know, we are philanthropists—people who help the poor and build homes for those in need.” The crowd erupted into applause as Marcus checked his wristwatch, a small chuckle escaping his lips.Marcus took a seat, puffing on his shisha as a grin spread across his face. He watched Don and his family with a sense of anticipation, knowing that his revenge was near. In his mind, it was only a matter of time before Don would be forced to leave this place in shame. As the press snapped pictures of Don and his family, Marcus continued to observe them, each inhale of smoke a reminder of the power he held.With a gleam of satisfaction, Don pressed a button, sending a beam of light onto the projector. The crowd erupted in applause, a flash of light illuminating Don’s smile. But just as quickly as the room
A furious Don father stormed into the police station, his gaze fixed on the officers who had arrested his son in front of the press. “How dare you, how could you arrest my son in front of the press!” he roared, his voice seething with rage. “I thought we were friends.” The deputy police officer stepped forward, a look of contrition on his face. “I’m sorry, sir. The order came from above.” Don's father's face turned stormy, his eyes narrowing as he took in the news. He hissed through clenched teeth, the betrayal stinging like a slap to the face.“I’m here to bail my son out,” he stated firmly, expecting immediate compliance. But the deputy officer’s gaze was steely, his response chilling. “We can’t grant you that.”“I want to bail my son out,” He repeated, assuming the deputy police officer did not hear him earlier.Don's father's demand fell on deaf ears as the deputy officer maintained his resolve. “I’m sorry, sir,” he repeated, his voice devoid of pity. “The order is clear—you
Don Father dialed the number again, but was met with silence. He gritted his teeth in frustration and called one of his men. "Any information?" he asked, his voice tinged with anger. "Yes sir," the man replied. "I was just about to call you. There is no trace of who did this, but the person left a message."Don Father's patience snapped. "You can't do a simple job? You're telling me there's no information?!" he roared.“I tried my best sir!”The phone call ended with a click, and the Don Father seethed. "Your best isn’t enough," he roared, frustration boiling within him. Kneeling to Marcus was his only option, but the thought of it made his blood boil. In desperation, he dialed the Chief Police Officer, but the call was declined. The Don Father hissed, his pride bruised as the officers in the station stared at him with a mixture of fear and disgust. He’d once commanded respect, but his empire was now crumbling around him.Fuming, the Don Father stormed out of the station and into
Don’s father, was incensed by the false news being circulated. He picked up his phone to call Marcus, who had been the source of the misinformation, but Marcus declined his calls. Frustrated, he threw his phone away, his anger growing. This was the worst day of his life, and he had no idea how to fix the situation.As Mr. Don's frustration mounted, he found himself in a precarious situation. Not only was his reputation at stake due to the spread of inaccurate news, but his attempts to reach Marcus, the source of the misinformation, were futile. With limited options and dwindling patience, he struggled to find a way to clear his son's name and salvage the situation.Enraged, Mr. Don grabbed his other phone and dialed the chief police officer. "This is not what we agreed on!" he snapped as soon as the officer answered. "What am I seeing in the news?"The chief officer scoffed in response, his tone condescending. "You don't raise your voice to me, Mr. Man," he warned. "I made a promi
And then, like a glimmer of hope in the darkness, a message popped up: "THINGS CAN BE SET RIGHT IF YOU KNEEL ON THE FLOOR AND BEG MARCUS PUBLICLY." Jack read the message again, his mind racing."What?" Jack shouted, his voice carrying the weight of his shock and confusion. Don, sensing his father's distress, hurriedly rushed over. "What is it, pa?" he asked, his concern palpable.But Jack was unable to find his voice. With shaking hands, he passed the phone to his son, who took it with a questioning look. When Don's eyes fell on the message, his expression shifted from curiosity to pure rage."Who the hell sent this?!" he roared, his fists clenching at his sides as if he were ready to take on the entire world.Jack's voice was weak, his shoulders slumped in defeat as he answered, "I don't know, Don." His hands flew to his head, his fingers running through his hair in frustration. "Apologizing to Marcus in private was already more than I could handle," he confessed, his face a mask
Marcus and Sandra entered Sandra's house, their hands tightly clasped together as they prepared to face the Sandra family. It was the third day of the bet, and if the company's financial accounts did not show significant improvement, Sandra would have no choice but to step down. Tension was thick in the air as the family awaited the outcome, their gazes fixed on Sandra with anticipation.“Ugh I can’t believe I have to see this low life.” Sandra's cousin wasted no time in voicing her disapproval, her words laced with contempt as she remarked on Marcus's presence. Marcus ignored her jibe, standing tall before the family, his smirk radiating defiance in the face of their skepticism. Sandra's father, on the other hand, could barely conceal his distaste for Marcus, his mind racing back to his preferred suitor for Sandra's hand, Don. Meanwhile, Sandra's mother watched on in silence, torn between her daughter's happiness and the possibility of a better match with Don.At the sound of San
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