“Come on, son. Are you sure you’re strong enough to keep working these long hours, from 7am to 9pm?” Mrs. Watson asked, concern etched across her face.“I’m fine, Mom, I’ll be fine,” Sultan insisted, doing his best to hide the strain he was feeling.“At least have some breakfast before you go,” she insisted.“No, Mom,” Emmett replied, forcing a smile. “I’m Emmett Watson, and I’ve got this.”“We sure raised a workaholic son. Sometimes I really wonder if you truly are our Emmett,” his father chimed in with a shake of his head, though having nothing but sincerity in his tone.Sultan's smile faltered for a moment. “I’m still your son, Dad,” he said, his voice just a bit smaller than before. The reminder of who he really was, making him a little uncomfortable.Mr. Watson's expression softened, and he reached out to place a hand on Sultan's shoulder. “I know that, son,” he said, his tone gentle.“You should at least let the maid bring you some lunch later,” Mrs. Watson interjected, her voice
“Are you sure, Young Master Watson?” a voice called out, making the crowd turn to see Martello stepping forward again.Sultan's eyebrow arched, his expression teetering on the brink of scornful amusement. “I am sure of what I say,” he replied, his tone laced with growing irritation. “I am not a child who would speak of things he does not know, or tell lies.”“How can we be sure you’re not being naive this time?” Martello questioned, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “After all, you were once a gullible young man, and now, all of a sudden, you’ve changed.”Sultan's hand tightened around the microphone, the metal cool and solid under his fingertips. “I assure you,” he said, his voice icy and controlled, “we have never met, and I have no idea why you seem to have a grudge against me.”“However,” Sultan continued, “I do have evidence to back up my claims, if you are so doubtful.”Martello’s eyes widened, his face contorting in a mixture of surprise and disdain. “You think a few forged docu
(In the Car) Sultan stared out of the car window, the city lights blurring into streaks of color as they sped towards his Master Watson's office. Lugard sat in the front seat, silent and watchful. ‘This is my chance to make sure equality is served out like a dish to the average citizens. I wouldn't just help myself, I'd help my kind,’ Sultan thought, his mind racing with memories of what he has been through being poor. Now, taking over his now given father’s company was not just a duty—it was a battle he had to win. Not just a battle for him, Sultan, but also a battle for Emmett Watson! When they arrived, Lugard led Sultan through a hidden back entrance. The corridors were dimly lit, but Sultan knew every corner of the building somehow. “Ah, yes! I had a dream last night that I had spent countless hours here, learning the ropes of the family business under everyone's watchful stern gazes, hmph!” They reached the boardroom, where the meeting was already in progress. Sultan t
He collapsed to the ground, seeing the man disappearing into the shadows.Lugard rushed in, his face a mask of horror and panic. "Young Master! Hang on!"People began to gather around the scene, their shocked murmurs growing louder."Did you hear that? Someone just shot Emmett Watson!""Wasn't he supposed to take over the company? This is insane!""He just came out of rehab, didn't he? Maybe this is related to that."Within moments, the alley was crowded with onlookers, and soon the flashing lights of cameras and the buzz of reporters filled the air."Emmett Watson has been shot!" a reporter shouted into his microphone, the live broadcast capturing the chaos. "This is an unbelievable turn of events right outside the Watsons’ board meeting!"Another reporter pushed her way to the front. "Do we know who shot him? Could this be a corporate rivalry taken too far?"Lugard tried to shield Sultan from the growing crowd, his voice urgent as he called for an ambulance. "Move back! Give him spa
Meanwhile, back at the company, the scene of the incident was still buzzing with chaos. Employees were gathered in tight-knit groups, whispering furiously and speculating about what had just happened. The reporters, eager to follow the next chapter of the story, were hastily packing up their equipment, some already heading to the Watson estate in the hopes of catching another glimpse of Emmett Watson.Amidst the commotion, someone slowly bent down, their slender fingers brushing against the cold, hard floor. They felt around carefully until they touched the dented surface of the gold coin. With a quick glance around to ensure they weren’t being watched, they picked it up and clutched it tightly in their hand.The person straightened, slipping the coin into their pocket. They moved with a calculated nonchalance, blending back into the crowd of employees who were still murmuring in disbelief."Did you see how he just got up? Like it was nothing!""I thought for sure he was a goner. T
"Y... you've got to be kidding me," Sultan blurted out, though he was not as shocked as one might expect. He was familiar with the Hermit, a figure from the Major Arcana he knew nothing about just yet. The old wizardly man's face, pale as a corpse and shrouded under a hood, stared back at him from the mirror. His eyes, like ancient sand, held a depth of wisdom and forewarning.Sultan frowned, conflicted by the Hermit's sudden appearance and cryptic presence. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration and curiosity.He was trying to avoid those people huh, those other work cult trying to initiate him yet.. ugh! They just kept appearing.The Hermit's gaze was intense, truly penetrating Sultan's soul. He raised a skeletal hand, pointing directly at Sultan through the mirror. "Looming dangers approach, Sultan," the Hermit warned, his voice a haunting whisper. "The path is fraught with peril, and shadows gather around you."Sultan tried to grasp the meaning behind
"Err, Dad..." Sultan stammered, searching for the right words. "I, um, I don't remember having a mole. Maybe... maybe you're mistaken?”His father’s expression turned serious. "You do have a mole, son," he insisted.Sultan blinked, the fear of being exposed tightening in his chest. "Dad, I said in the interview that I underwent surgery. I wasn’t lying. If I had a mole before, I shouldn’t have one now."His father narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Nice joke, son," he said, stretching out his hand and pointing to Sultan’s face. "There, the mole is still there. Perhaps the surgery didn’t do much justice to the mole, and I’m thankful it didn’t. That mole reminds me of our father-son relationship. It’d be sad if it were lost."Sultan quickly raised his hand to his nose, poking around until he felt the mole. It wasn’t small, nor was it big, but it was clearly noticeable from a closer distance. How? He had looked at himself in the mirror today and there was no mole. His mind raced, trying t
"Hey, pops, moms. Heard my cousin's getting married tomorrow. Is this the reason why I'm back home?" Ashley asked as she came down the stairs in her cute, fluffy, hairy bear coat.Her mom looked up from the kitchen counter, where she was preparing breakfast. "Good morning, Ashley. Yes, Tiana's wedding is part of the reason. We wanted the family to be together for this special occasion."Her dad, sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee, added, "But we also missed having our little trouble maker around. It's been too long since we were all under the same roof."Ashley grinned, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Well, I'm here now. Anything else exciting happening while I'm back?"Her mom chuckled, "You know how it is around here. There's always something going on."Her dad, knowing his daughter's mischievous streak, gave her a stern look, raising an eyebrow in a silent warning. Her mom followed suit, giving Ashley the same eye signal, a clear reminder to behave.Ashley rolled