Novels by Mus Story

The media firestorm ignited instantly. Across the globe, the revelation of Julian Reed's final moments and Rose Reed's cruelty dominated every headline. Social media became a furious mob.The hashtag #JusticeForJulian trended worldwide, replacing any sympathy Rose had manufactured in the past decade with visceral public rage. The corporate world watched in disbelief as the Reed empire crumbled not just from financial failure, but from moral bankruptcy.At the Knight Mansion, Ashton, Avery, and Sarah remained glued to the television, watching the inevitable implosion unfold. The news anchors, usually composed and professional, looked genuinely shaken as they relayed the latest developments."They're calling Rose a murderer," Sarah murmured, her voice tight with disbelief as she watched an analyst debate the legal implications of Clara's anonymous testimony. "This is beyond anything Rose can control. The witnesses are solid, the evidence is damning."Ashton nodded grimly, his gaze fixed

The silence in Ashton Knight's study was heavy, charged with the weight of their impending actions. Weeks of meticulous planning, covert operations, and strategic leaks had culminated in this single moment, the point of no return.Ashton sat at his desk, his expression unreadable, a formidable mask of control that had seen him through countless battles. Avery sat opposite him, meanwhile Sarah stood by the window, her own gaze distant as she scanned the grounds, a subtle nod to the heightened security.The door to the study opened, admitting Alistair. He entered with a quiet, professional air. The seasoned lawyer radiated an aura of calm efficiency, but his usually placid face now held a trace of gravity."Everything is ready," Alistair announced, his voice carrying a note of serious finality. He placed a sleek, thin laptop on the desk between Ashton and Avery. "The package has been prepared. Katherine Vance is waiting for the final authorization. We only need your final approval, Asht

The opulence of the Reed mansion did little to cushion the devastating impact of Rose’s rage. Oliver Reed was finally dragged back to the estate by two nervous security guards and immediately ushered into his mother’s private study. The guards had found him at Aurelia, still half-asleep on the velvet sofa, his expensive suit rumpled, smelling faintly of stale whiskey and self-pity.Rose was waiting. She stood behind her desk, still wearing the severe gray suit from the morning, but her composure was gone. Her eyes burned with a cold, terrifying fury that promised imminent destruction.Oliver stood before her, his posture slumped, his face pale and contorted with fear. He attempted to straighten his jacket, a pathetic, futile gesture of defiance."Sit down, Oliver," Rose commanded, her voice dangerously quiet. The lack of volume was more menacing than any shout.Oliver didn't dare argue. He knew all along that he screwed up. He collapsed into the nearest leather armchair, his legs givi

The exclusive bar, Aurelia, pulsed with the intoxicating rhythm of manufactured success. Oliver Reed, basking in the fabricated adoration of Ashton’s hired performers, felt the familiar, addictive return of his ego. He held a glass of the most expensive champagne, already on his third refill, blissfully unaware that his "admirers" were highly paid assets deployed for his destruction.He was the undisputed center of attention."Mr. Reed, your insights into the market collapse are truly genius," said Mark, a handsome actor playing a venture capitalist, leaning in conspiratorially, his eyes wide with feigned admiration. "To liquidate your position, even partially, just before Elysian Dynamics’ total implosion. That’s a foresight only a true market survivor possesses.""Pure instinct, my boy," Oliver slurred, his chest swelling with self-importance. He took another deep swig of champagne, savoring the burn and the validation. "I saw the signs clearly. You have to be ahead of the curve. Yo

Avery nodded slowly. "You’re right, Ashton. It’s all too sudden. I can't let him manipulate me. Not after everything. If he ever wanted peace, he wouldn’t let all this happen in the first place. And also, he never cared about Adelia anyway."She took a deep breath, shaking off the soft plea of Oliver's voice that’s still echoing in her memory. "So, what’s our response? Do we release a statement rejecting his offer?""No. We don't acknowledge the offer. We only use his desperation," Ashton countered, his eyes gleaming with focused strategy. "Oliver is spiraling, right? He's humiliated by his mother and ruined by the market. What does a man like Oliver crave when he feels powerless, Avery?" He asked her directly.Avery thought for a moment, picturing the man she had been married to. "Validation, of course. He wants to feel important. He wants to be celebrated, away from Rose’s eye and pressures.""Exactly," Ashton affirmed. "He needs to prove he’s still the heir of the Reeds, even if he

The second article hit the press with devastating force. Unlike the technical, dry financial reports about Ariadne Holdings, this one was personal and emotional. A major investigative magazine published a feature titled "Blood, Sweat, and Betrayal at Reed Corp."The article detailed the heartbreaking story of David Chen. Although anonymous, his experiences were vivid. Twenty years of loyalty, reporting genuine safety concerns at the factory, only to be dismissed without cause and left to face crippling medical debt for his sick daughter. The narrative painted Oliver Reed not as a flawed executive, but as a cruel tyrant who prioritized his ego over human lives.The public reaction was immediate and fierce. The article went viral. Social media exploded with outrage. Reed Corp's carefully cultivated image as a pillar of the community, a reliable family business, crumbled instantly. The "creative accounting" story had worried investors because David Chen's story enraged the public.At the

The minimalist calm of Liliana’s office felt like a violation. She sat behind her sleek, white desk, staring blankly at a complex lighting schematic on her monitor, but she saw none of it.Her mind was a chaotic storm of Prada suits and poisoned words. The encounter with Eleanor, followed by the tense, charged confrontation with Sebastian, had ripped open scars she had foolishly believed were healed.She had spent five years meticulously building a fortress around her heart, brick by painful brick. In the space of a single afternoon, Eleanor had strolled up to the gates with a battering ram, and Sebastian had simply walked through the breach.Her hand trembled as she reached for her phone. Her finger hovered over her lawyer’s number. Breach of contract. So what? The thought was a wild, desperate scream in her mind. I’ll pay the penalty. I’ll declare bankruptcy. I’ll start over again, in a different city, a different country. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but near them.The financial rui

The moment the heavy glass door of Sebastian’s office closed, sealing them inside his silent, minimalist fortress, the thin veneer of civility between mother and son evaporated. Delilah had been dispatched with a dismissive wave and a promise to "discuss fabrics later," leaving the two predators alone.“Are you out of your mind?” Eleanor began, her voice not loud, but low and venomous. She walked to the center of the room, her Prada suit a slash of severe color against the muted greys of the office. “Bringing her back into this? Into our lives?”Sebastian remained behind his vast, empty desk, a deliberate barrier between them. He slowly sat down, a king returning to his throne, and steepled his fingers. “She is a contractor, Mother. The best in her field. This is a billion-dollar project. I required the best.”“The best?” Eleanor laughed, a short, sharp sound devoid of humor. “There are a dozen event planners in this city who are just as competent. Delilah’s own cousin runs a very suc

Liliana was in her element. She moved through the pre-event chaos with a serene, unshakable authority, a clipboard held like a royal scepter.“No,” she said calmly to a flustered lighting technician. “The uplighting on the west columns should be a soft champagne, not that ghastly yellow. We’re creating an atmosphere of timeless elegance, not a crime scene.”“And you,” she said, turning to a catering manager, “the canapés will be served on silver trays, not wood. This is a billion-dollar launch, not a rustic barn wedding. Please correct it.”Her team moved around her with a quiet, focused energy. They worshipped her. She was demanding, yes, but she was also brilliant, and she never asked for anything she couldn't do herself. For the first time in days, since Sebastian had re-entered her life, she felt completely in control. This was her kingdom.“Impressive.”The low, familiar voice behind her sent a jolt straight through her. She didn't have to turn. She could feel his presence, a mag

The restaurant was Sebastian’s choice, of course. A discreet, obscenely expensive, and dimly lit place called 'The Foxy Room,' where each table was hidden away in a private alcove shrouded by thick velvet curtains. It wasn't a venue for a business meeting. It was a venue for affairs and secrets. His power play was clear and arrogant. He would create a stage of intimacy, and she would have to perform on it.Liliana arrived at eight o'clock sharp, dressed in a simple but powerful black dress that radiated a cool professionalism. She found him already waiting, not rising, just watching her as she approached.“Ms. Dawnson,” he said, his voice as smooth as velvet. “Punctual. I’ve always admired your efficiency.”“I’m paid to be efficient, Mr. Blackwood,” Liliana replied, sliding into the booth, keeping as much distance as the cramped space would allow.A waiter appeared noiselessly. “Your usual wine, Mr. Blackwood?”Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off Liliana, a glint in his gaze in the can

The next morning, Liliana walked into the headquarters of Grandland Holdings feeling like a general entering enemy territory after signing an unwanted truce. She had been awake all night, Sebastian’s words, his touch, his almost-kiss, replaying in her mind like a storm. She hated him for trapping her. She hated herself even more for the traitorous shiver she’d felt when he was so close.Sebastian's assistant, a nervous-looking young woman named Clara, greeted her. “Good morning, Ms. Dawnson. Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you in his office.”Sebastian’s office was a reflection of the man himself: vast, minimalist, and commanding. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a stunning, dominant view of the city, as if he owned everything the eye could see. The furniture was all dark chrome and black leather, expensive and uncompromising. There were no photos. No personal touches. Just power.He was standing by the window, his back to her, just as he had been on the first day. A deliberate power

Sebastian listened to her polite, professional dismissal, and a slow, dangerous smile touched his lips. It was a smile Liliana knew all too well. It wasn't a smile of amusement. It was the smile of a predator who had just seen its prey walk directly into a cage and then politely ask for the door to be opened.“Of course, Ms. Dawnson,” he said, his voice a low, smooth purr that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. “You are, as always, free to do as you please.”He stood up, the picture of magnanimous agreement. “I would never dream of forcing you into an uncomfortable working relationship.”Liliana eyed him with suspicion. This was too easy. The Sebastian she knew didn't give up. He conquered. "Good," she said, snapping her portfolio shut. "Then we understand each other. I'll inform the executives that my services are limited to their portion of the project only.""You could do that," Sebastian agreed, walking slowly around the table toward the bar cart in the corner of the room.