LOGINLas Vegas was the city of illusion. A bright mirage in the desert, built to make people believe they were lucky. Few actually won at the casinos; many left behind not only their money, but their dignity, their hope... and sometimes their lives.Sebastian was in his office, surrounded by marble, glass, and numbers. The afternoon was not over for him yet; he analyzed the previous night’s winnings with the precision of someone studying a war. For Sebastian, the numbers were battles won.The knock on the door interrupted the comfortable silence.“Come in.”The secretary entered, her face betraying something her words might not dare to say. She was rarely shaken; she knew how to deal with desperate gamblers, arrogant millionaires, and ruthless investors. But here... there was unease.“Mr. Sterling, there is someone insisting on speaking with you. I tried to explain.”“Does this person have an appointment?”“No, sir.”“You know the rules.”“I know, it’s just that...”She didn’t finish her s
Chapter 21: The Owner of the EmpirePeter found his father in his office surrounded by papers, documents scattered across the desk, and a glass of expensive cognac within easy reach. Marcus Sterling worked late. He always had. Business came first. Before my family. Before children.Peter learned that early on.“You invited the bastard to the annual dinner,” Peter said bluntly, closing the door behind him hard enough to make his point.Marcus didn’t look up from his papers. “Yes, I invited him.”Peter approached the desk, resting his hands on the polished surface.“You’ve never invited him before. Why now?”Finally, Marcus looked up, removing his reading glasses and setting them aside with slow, deliberate movements. He studied Peter for a moment—that appraising look Peter knew all too well. The look that measured worth, usefulness.“I want to meet the woman he married,” Marcus said simply. “She has our surname now.”Peter let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “She was my employee. An orph
“My lawyer is having dinner here tonight,” Sebastian announced as he loosened his tie.Karen was confused. She didn’t understand why he was telling her this.“Then... I’ll stay in my room,” she said, almost hopeful that she could disappear before causing any embarrassment.The idea of not having to face stares, questions, or judgments brought her brief relief.Sebastian let out a short, humorless laugh.“You’re my wife, not a hostage.”“But Dr. Chen knows the truth about our marriage. I don’t want to... bother anyone.”The silence that followed seemed too long.When Sebastian finally looked up, it was with a firmness that brooked no disagreement—a cold, calculated authority as natural to him as breathing.“Be ready on time.”There was no explanation, no attempt to make her more comfortable. Just an order she had to obey.Karen went to her room, and strange as it may seem, she missed that place. At Saint Mary’s, everyone was equal. There, in Sebastian’s house of marble and luxury, she
Sebastian walked through the corridors as if revisiting a battlefield. He knew every door, every crack, every hiding place where he had once survived—and where he had sworn never to return.As he stepped out into the courtyard, the warm air hit his face, bringing with it the bittersweet smell of grass and old paint. He crossed the lawn unhurriedly, knowing full well that Karen and Mrs. Malcolm were watching him from the window.He wanted them to watch him. He wanted them to believe he was just... reminiscing.On the other side, children’s laughter broke the heavy silence. A group of boys ran across the side yard, wearing the same uniform he had been forced to wear. Faded blue, stiff collars, rough fabric that hurt the skin.That sight struck a nerve—not as nostalgia, but as a scar pulled tight. He remembered how much he hated that uniform. How much he hated feeling like the property of a place that never wanted him.His jaw locked.He kept walking to the edge of the courtyard, as if a
Sebastian had spent his life trying to forget the past—but being there again was like being forced to face it in a harsh light. Every wall, every smell, every sound seemed to test his emotional endurance.“How are you, Mrs. Malcolm?” he asked cordially, a fake smile on his face.The orphanage director adjusted her glasses, still surprised. “I’m fine... but I confess I didn’t expect to see you here, Sebastian. Much less the two of you together. I had no idea you knew each other.”Sebastian straightened his posture with rehearsed elegance and put on the social mask he wore so well.“Karen and I are married, and we came here in person to tell you the news.”Mrs. Malcolm blinked, opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again—as if trying to process the information before it escaped her.“You two are married?” She finally managed to articulate, still in shock. “When did this happen?”Sebastian put his arm around Karen’s waist, pulling her close—a gesture too calculated to seem affectionate.
Karen and Sebastian were sitting in the back seat of the car. He was typing quickly on his cell phone, answering emails without taking his eyes off the screen, as if the whole world depended on every word he sent.Karen watched him discreetly. His gray eyes, always intense, were even sharper now with concentration. His posture was impeccable, rigid, as if even his breathing was planned.“Don’t you ever allow yourself to relax?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.“I’m a business executive, Karen.” He didn’t look away from his phone. “I can’t afford that kind of luxury.”“Why?” she insisted, seeking more than the obvious answer.This time, he paused. He took a deep breath, put his phone away, and finally looked at her.“I can’t slow down because you win in Las Vegas. I can’t admire the scenery or celebrate insignificant victories. That sort of satisfaction isn’t for me.”Karen raised an eyebrow. “And what’s wrong with not being ambitious? There’s more to the world than money.”“I







