2025-03-14 09:27:19The conference room of the Consortium’s private estate was filled with an air of tension. The members of the Consortium—men and women who controlled the wealth and power of Westland—sat around an elongated mahogany table, their expressions unreadable but their minds sharp with speculation.
Each of them had received the same message earlier that morning. “The heir to the Moxley Empire is alive.” It was a statement that shook the very foundation of the Consortium—the message that neither of them had seen coming. The old patriarch, Moxley, had always been perceived as the last of his bloodline, after the death of his only son Elijah Moxley years ago. His death meant a free-for-all over his empire, and the Robertson family had already positioned themselves to take control. But now, this message threatened everything. “I think it’s a hoax,” Victor Lancaster finally broke the silence, adjusting his cufflinks. “Someone is playing a dangerous game, and they want us rattled.” “I agree,” Sylvia Harrington, from the Harrington family added, leaning back in her chair. “If Moxley had a living heir, wouldn’t we have known about it by now? Or could it be that Elijah’s child was somehow alive all these while?” “That can’t be possible! We made sure we took care of that. The baby was killed by the doctor after Stella gave birth to the child.” Victor reminded them. Oliver Robertson, sitting at the head of the table, remained silent, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the surface. His son, William, stood at the far end of the room, arms crossed, his jaw clenched. “A hoax or not,” another member interjected, “it’s dangerous. If the media gets hold of this, we’ll have a scandal on our hands.” “And if people believe it,” Victor continued, “then we risk legal battles over Moxley’s estate. The Robertson family might lose their claim altogether. We would just be here while everything we’ve laboured for all these years slip through our fingers.” Murmurs of agreement filled the room. Then, the doors opened, and all eyes turned toward the figure walking in. Dean. His steps were confident, his expression unreadable. Oliver’s fingers stilled against the table. William straightened. Dean approached the table, stopping just before the head seat. He let the silence stretch for a few moments before speaking. “It’s not a hoax,” he said calmly. The murmurs ceased. The room fell into absolute silence as they waited for what he meant and why he sounded so sure. Dean’s gaze swept across them, reading their expressions—shock, disbelief, and most importantly, fear. “I’ve already met with the heir,” he continued. “And I can confirm that he is the son of Elijah Moxley with Stella.” Several heads turned in confusion as they couldn’t make sense of what was happening. They had taken care of Elijah’s child with Stella years ago, and they don’t seem to understand how he suddenly shows up. “Elijah Moxley? I don’t understand. The child died at birth. It was all over the news then. I think that was why Stella never returned to the Moxleys,” Sylvia Harrington reminded them, raising a brow.” “Well,” Dean sighed. “The baby didn’t really die at birth. As a matter of fact that child was kept hidden for reasons I won’t discuss right now, and the late Moxley himself knew about. He’s finally back to take over what belongs to his grandfather. He is Moxley’s grandson and the rightful heir to the empire.” The members of the Consortium were forced to exchange looks, pretending to be pleased by the revelation. They nodded and muttered empty pleasantries. “Well, this is certainly unexpected,” Victor said, forcing a smile. “It’s good to know that the Moxley bloodline isn’t lost after all.” “Yes, indeed,” another member added. “A true Moxley to inherit the empire—what could be better?” Dean smirked inwardly. Liars. They weren’t happy. They were furious. The Consortium had already divided Moxley’s empire in their minds. Now, their plans were crumbling. Oliver Robertson finally spoke, his voice smooth but firm. “Since the Moxley’s grandson is still alive, I believe it’s only fair that we meet him.” William nodded, masking his frustration. “Yes. We should officially welcome him into the Consortium.” Dean clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ll introduce him to you—after the Patriarch has been laid to rest.” Oliver’s expression darkened, but he didn’t let his frustration show. “And why must we wait?” Dean smiled. “Because we respect Moxley. The Consortium wouldn’t want to rush matters while the old man hasn’t even been buried, would we?” A few murmurs of reluctant agreement followed. Oliver knew that pushing too hard now would only make him look desperate. After a long pause, Oliver stood, placing his hands on the table. His tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “How can we be certain that this young man is truly a Moxley?” Dean expected this question. “After his unveiling, you’re free to conduct a DNA analysis,” Dean replied confidently. Someone from the far end of the table objected. “Why should we wait until after the unveiling? Why not conduct the test before?” Dean’s expression remained unchanged. “You have nothing to worry about. If the results prove otherwise after his unveiling, then you’re free to take any legal action you deem necessary against both me and the young man.” Silence. The Consortium members exchanged glances. They had expected Dean to hesitate, to bargain, to find a way around the issue. But his unwavering confidence caught them off guard. Why was he so sure? What did he know that they didn’t? Oliver narrowed his eyes. “You’re willing to put your reputation and your position at stake for this?” Dean nodded. “Absolutely.” A thick silence settled over the room. They couldn’t push back without seeming suspicious. If they insisted too much on testing him before the unveiling, it would look as if they feared the results. So, one by one, they nodded. “Very well,” Oliver said finally, his tone neutral. “We look forward to meeting him.” Dean gave them a polite nod before turning and walking out of the room, leaving them in stunned silence. As soon as Dean left, William turned to his father. “This is bad.” Oliver’s eyes were cold and calculating. “We’re not going to let him take what’s ours,” he said. William nodded. “So what do we do?” Oliver’s lips curled into a smirk. “We eliminate the heir before he’s ever unveiled.”
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CH. 5 (Death of the Patriarch, Moxley)
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CH. 4 (Identity Revealed)
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CH. 3 (Divorce and Arrest)
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CH. 2 (Insults and Humiliation)
Harry’s throat felt dry, his heart pounding painfully as he struggled to process the sight before him. His voice failed him; he could do nothing but stare, silenced by the weight of shock and betrayal.He reached out, his hand shaking, and pushed an empty glass vase off the closet close to the door.The crash was deafening. And it was the only thing he heard as the man and Hailey jumped apart and looked at him, the whole scene playing out in slow motion before him as his ears rang and his eyes dazed.No… it couldn't be. He had to be dreaming. It couldn't be Hailey having sex with a man in her office.But he wasn't mistaken. It was his wife Hailey. It was the woman he had spent the whole day waiting for at the restaurant just to make her birthday special."How dare you barge into my office without knocking?" Hailey lashed out angrily at him.“O… Hailey?” Harry managed to breathe out, surprised to see that his wife didn't even look remorseful. She had this look on her face that indicate
CH. 1 (Cheating and Betrayal)
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