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The Fool's Gold Four Trucks And A Bugatti (2)
Mr. Watson clapped him on the shoulder, his hand warm and firm, a gentle squeeze that conveyed his affection and approval. "Just keep being yourself, Sultan. Now go on, I can see you've got somewhere to be," he said, his eyes twinkling with a knowing glint, his voice filled with a warm, paternal tone. With that, Sultan nodded, turning towards the new driver, who watched the exchange with mild interest, his expression a mask of professional neutrality. Sultan approached him, key in hand, and they walked together towards one of the luxury cars parked in the driveway, its sleek lines and polished surface gleaming in the sunlight. "You don't need to follow me, Lugard is with me," Sultan said, his voice firm, his gesture dismissive. *As they drove away from the estate, Lugard finally spoke, his voice low and serious, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I've been keeping an eye on the shareholders' movements. There's something you need to know." Sultan glanced at him, intrigued, his e
The Fool's Gold The Burden Of Truth (1)
Lugard approached the Watson Estate, his pulse racing with anticipation. The gates, usually manned by two guards, were now fortified with four, their eyes scanning the surroundings with heightened vigilance. Each guard carried tactical batons, their grips tightening as they eyed Lugard's approach. Their stern expressions did little to ease the tension, their jaws clenched in unison.The surrounding area was swarming with reporters from various news outlets, microphones and cameras at the ready. They surged forward, a chorus of shouted questions filling the air, as Lugard stepped into the fray. "This is CBT News reporting live from outside the Watson Estate," a reporter announced into the microphone, her voice rising above the din. "We've received confirmation that a car registered to the Watson family was involved in a catastrophic accident. The whereabouts of Sultan Watson remain unknown." She paused, her eyes locked on Lugard, her gaze piercing. "Who is Sultan Watson? Did the Wat
The Fool's Gold The Burden Of Truth (2)
Emmett reached for a bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid offering a brief respite from his tormented thoughts. As he swirled the liquor in his glass, he asked himself, "Was I liking Sultan? No! Did I pity him? Yes! Was I happy he's gone? No!!!!" The questions swirled in his mind like the whiskey in his glass. "Why?" he thought, "Because my parents are going to mourn him and leave me in the corner, as always! Even in his absence, I'm still being neglected, just like always. You're just like the others, Sultan." The bitter taste of the whiskey matched the bitterness in his heart.*Meanwhile, the business world was in turmoil. Immediately, news of the accident and Sultan's mysterious disappearance spread like wildfire, igniting a frenzy of speculation and concern. The Watsons' company stocks plummeted as investors grew wary of the secrecy and confusion surrounding the incident. Screens displaying stock prices flashed red, and traders' faces fell as they scrambled to respond to the cr
The Fool's Gold The Mastermind's Verdict (1)
As the trucks closed in, Sultan's heart racing with fear, he felt an instinctual surge course through his veins yet he had a calm inside. With no time to think, he squeezed his eyes shut and surrendered to an inexplicable sense of calm, his tense shoulders sagging in defeat. In the blink of an eye, the chaos of the impending crash – the screeching tires, the crunching metal – transformed into a strange serenity, like a silent whisper in his ear. When Sultan opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a dimly lit room of an ordinary building, his gaze wandering aimlessly as his mind struggled to catch up with the sudden shift in reality.In the quiet, ordinary building, three men stood together in a dimly lit room, the air thick with tension. The man in the middle, his eyes fixed on the floor, appeared nervous, beads of sweat trickling down his brow as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The man on the right, his hands clenched into fists, was visibly shakes, his e
The Fool's Gold The Mastermind's Verdict (2)
"Remove your mask," The man hesitated, his hand instinctively rising to the mask before dropping back to his side. Sultan's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. "Now," he growled, his voice low and menacing.The man remained unfazed, his eyes fixed on Sultan with defiance, as he ignored Sultan's command. Orion sneered, his lip curling into a snarl, his voice dripping with condescension, "What do you want with Calvin? What business do you have with my loyal servant?" He added with a dismissive wave of his hand, his fingers flicking outward with a disdainful flourish, "Calvin, you and the other bodyguard, you're both free to leave." As Calvin and the other bodyguard began to depart, their footsteps echoing through the room, Sultan repeated the name, his voice low and deliberate, his eyes boring into Calvin's back, "Calvin... Calvin... Calvin," each iteration dripping with an unnerving intensity, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.Each repetition of the name 'Calvin'
The Fool's Gold Moved On Past Year 2009
Sultan had barely turned back when he felt the arrival of another presence, a subtle disturbance in the air that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He was still adjusting to the shift in the room's atmosphere, his senses heightened, when Lord Lin materialized from thin air, his appearance seemingly conjured from the shadows themselves.Sultan's eyes darted around, confirming that neither Orion nor his men seemed to notice this new arrival, their faces frozen in a mixture of fear and confusion. It was as if an invisible barrier separated them, isolating Lin and Sultan from the rest of the scene, creating a pocket of secrecy amidst the chaos.Orion's men, oblivious to the strange shift, remained focused on Calvin, who was convulsing on the floor, his skin darkening, his screams growing increasingly monstrous, reverberating through the room like a beast's roar. Calvin's body arched, his limbs flailing wildly, as if possessed by some dark force, his eyes rolling back
The Fool's Gold Garden Of Black Roses
In the quieter corners of City M, Sullivan stood before his prized Garden of Black Roses, the soft glow of lanterns casting an ethereal light on the dark blooms. Draped in an opulent golden robe, its intricate embroidery glinting in the dim light, he carefully pruned the roses, each snip methodical and deliberate, his movements precise and calculated.His expression was one of intense focus, a reflection of his obsession with controlling every aspect of his life, his eyes narrowed, his brow furrowed in concentration. As he worked, a sudden change in the garden caught his eye: one of the roses on the left side had begun to turn a vivid, alarming red, its color stark against the sea of dark blooms, like a warning signal flashing in the night.Sullivan's brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes narrowing as he approached the altered rose with a cautious step, his golden robe rustling softly with each movement. He noticed an almost imperceptible heat radiating from it, though no flames wer
The Fool's Gold Hot Pot Of Gold
Sultan stepped through the portal into the Major Arcana World, the realm brimming with a surreal energy that made his skin tingle. He found himself in a vast hall, its architecture defying earthly logic, blending ancient and futuristic elements in a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns.Arrayed before him stood the members of the Major Arcana, their figures imposing and enigmatic. Some faces he recognized, while others were new and inscrutable. There was an air of anticipation, a collective breath held in suspense.A figure clad in deep blue robes, The Magician, stepped forward, a sly smile playing on his lips. “Welcome, Sultan, to the Major Arcana World,” he announced, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Today marks your ascendance. You are now one of us, though our circle remains incomplete. In due time, you will return to fulfill your true destiny.”Sultan, trying to mask his curiosity with nonchalance, nodded. “I get it. But I’ve got a request,” he said, his voice steady but w
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The Armstrongs (1)
The room was dark, the only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner, and Sultan could still feel his pulse racing from the nightmare. He muttered under his breath, "Damn it…"Sultan shifted in bed, the sheets rustling as he pushed himself up to sit at the edge. His hand ran through his hair, now damp with sweat. He could still feel the weight of the dream, the shadows of the four figures lingering in his mind. Their accusations, the way they chased him, it all felt too real. It was as if they were trying to pull him back into something he desperately wanted to escape from."Forgotten... forsaken… what the hell does it even mean?" He muttered, rubbing his face with his palms. The clock on the nightstand showed 6:15 AM. He hadn’t planned on waking up this early, but after that dream, there was no chance of going back to sleep. He got up, his feet making soft thuds on the carpet as he moved to the window. Pulling the curtains apart, he was met with the dull light of dawn. The
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Nightmare - Forsaken Son
Darkness clung to Sultan like a thick fog as he found himself standing in the middle of an unfamiliar place. He couldn’t tell if it was night or day—the sky was a dull, ashen gray, and the air was still, oppressive, as if the world itself were holding its breath. Around him, shadows loomed, shifting and twisting, never settling into anything recognizable.Sultan’s breath quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure how he had ended up here or why, but something about this place gnawed at the edges of his mind, a whisper of fear that he couldn’t quite shake. The ground beneath his feet was cold, hard, and unyielding, and every step he took seemed to echo into the void.He started walking, not sure where he was going, but driven by an urgent need to move. His footsteps were the only sound, the silence around him thick and stifling. As he moved forward, the shadows seemed to part slightly, revealing a narrow path ahead. It wound through what appeared to be an endless exp
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The Shadow In The Armstrong's Den
The road to a certain destination was long and winding, flanked by dense forests that seemed to close in around the narrow path. The man walked with a deliberate pace, his steps heavy with the weight of memories that he couldn’t shake. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the only sound was the steady crunch of leaves underfoot.As the road twisted and turned, the destination finally came into view, nestled at the end of the valley. "Armstrong's Den," the man blurted out.The house stood like a forgotten sentinel, its once-grand façade now weathered by time. Vines clung to the walls, and the windows, some broken, others covered in dust, gazed out like the hollow eyes of a weary sentinel. The man hesitated at the edge of the clearing, his gaze fixed on the house that seemed to hold all the answers he had been seeking.Without a word, he moved forward, crossing the worn cobblestone path that led to the front door. The creaking of the floorboards under his feet
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Shadow In The Woods
(SOMEWHERE IN THE WOODS)..It was a typical late afternoon in the sleepy little town of Thornwood, where the world seemed to move just a touch slower. The summer sun was beginning its descent, casting long, lazy shadows across the winding dirt road that led out of town and into the thick, endless stretch of woods that bordered the northern edge of the county. The locals called it the “Dark Forest,” though it had no official name. It was a place that everyone knew of but few dared to explore.Today, the forest was quiet, as it usually was, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant cry of a bird. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and the light filtered through the dense canopy above, painting the forest floor in a patchwork of gold and shadow.As the day edged closer to dusk, the quiet was broken by the crunch of gravel underfoot. A man, dressed in a worn leather jacket and faded jeans, walked slowly down the old road that cut through the forest. His
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Dine For Marriage (2)
The room, still warm with the remnants of their earlier conversation, felt charged with an undercurrent of something unspoken, something that Sultan had already perceived.For Sultan was no ordinary man. Known to many as the fool—a title that masked the depth of his true abilities—he had honed his skills to an art. And today, as Mr. Dickson sat across from him, discussing marriage and the future of the Watson family, Sultan’s mind was elsewhere, reaching into the recesses of Dickson's thoughts, peeling back the layers of his intentions.In an instant, Sultan saw it clearly: Mr. Dickson's visit had little to do with genuine concern for the Watsons or their company's future. It was about positioning. The recent collaborations with Lin Enterprise and Sullivan, the President's son, had solidified the Watsons’ place on the path to immense power and influence. Mr. Dickson, ever the opportunist, was angling for a deeper slice of that pie—one that could only be secured through family ties. H
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Dine For Marriage (1)
The morning sun poured gently through the tall windows of the Watson estate, casting a warm glow over the meticulously set dining table. The table was adorned with fine china, polished silverware, and an array of breakfast dishes—freshly baked bread, fruits, eggs, and other delights, arranged with care by the household staff. Mr. and Mrs. Watson were already seated, exchanging quiet words as they waited for their sons and their guest to join them."Everything looks perfect," Mrs. Watson remarked, her eyes scanning the table with approval."It certainly does," Mr. Watson agreed, a hint of pride in his voice. "But it’s not the food that matters today. It’s eating with our sons."As they spoke, one of the bodyguards entered the room, standing tall by the door. "Mr. Dickson has arrived," he announced."Thank you. Please show him in," Mr. Watson instructed.A moment later, Mr. Dickson entered the dining room, his presence as imposing as ever. Dressed in a tailored suit, he moved with the
- The Fool's Gold
The President's Son Is Collaborating
"Greetings and peace be unto here,” a bewitching voice slurred from the entrance.The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically as Sullivan walked in. The cameras, previously focused on Sultan and the Watson family, swung towards the door, capturing every step of the president's son. The reporters, eager for a scoop, rushed forward, their microphones thrust out and voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of questions and praises."Mr President's son! Over here!""Mr. Sullivan, can we get a comment?""How do you feel about the recent developments? And do you have a hand in the help of the Watsons to resolve their issues?""Why are you here today?”Sullivan, dressed in a sharp suit that seemed to glow with authority, acknowledged the cameras with a nod and a charismatic smile. His presence commanded attention, and the room seemed to hold its breath.Mr. and Mrs. Watson, along with Emmet, looked genuinely happy. They exchanged glances, then moved quickly to greet Sullivan and his ent
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Together! (2)
After his bold declaration, Sultan tapped Emmett's back seemingly soothing him to easen his tension then stepped forward, addressing the gathered shareholders, employees, and reporters. His calm demeanor and confident presence commanded attention, and as he began to speak, the room fell silent. He felt the funny and playful side it him - the FOOL, give way for his smart side as Sultan Armstrong, now a Watson. "Ladies and gentlemen," Sultan began, his voice steady and assured, "I understand that there has been a lot of uncertainty and concern regarding the future of the Watson Company. Today, I stand before you to address those concerns and present a vision for our collective future."He paused, letting his words sink in. The shareholders, some skeptical, some hopeful, leaned in, eager to hear more."My vision for the Watson Company is one of innovation, fairness, and family values. We need to embrace new technologies and ideas to stay competitive in this rapidly changing market. Bu
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Together! (1)
As Joe Armstrong's car sped away from Emmett, he took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the conversation that had just transpired. But instead of heading straight to the office, he made a subtle turn back towards the previous location. Once out of sight, Joe pulled over and quickly exited his vehicle. He glanced around cautiously, ensuring no one was observing him.A short distance away, a larger, luxurious gold-colored Venza awaited him. Joe approached the vehicle, his demeanor shifting from casual to serious. He opened the rear door and slipped inside, immediately bowing his head. In the plush back seat, a man dressed in a striking gold suit sat with an air of authority. His presence was commanding, exuding a quiet, menacing power. This was Sullivan, a figure who rarely showed his face but whose influence was deeply felt.Joe greeted him respectfully, "Greetings, Master."Sullivan, without looking up from the tablet he was holding, acknowledged Joe's presence with a slight n
