The crisp morning air was charged with purpose as Lilian strode through the glass doors of Drake Group. Her heartbeat was steady, each beat a quiet defiance against the past and a promise to herself: she was reclaiming everything she had lost, no matter who tried to stand in her way. Today, her first day back in her own company, marked the beginning of a journey to restore her grandfather’s legacy—and to honor the second chance life had given her.
But her return wasn’t without a reminder of her unfinished business with Chris. After catching him in his office with Rita, she hadn’t waited long before sending him the incriminating photos she'd taken, along with a clear message: he was to meet her at City Hall tomorrow to finalize their divorce, or those images would see the light of day. True to his nature, he’d been calling incessantly since, but she’d ignored every call. She had no desire to hear his excuses or his pleas. He was about to learn that she was no longer the woman who bent and broke for him.
Lilian’s stomach twisted at the memory of her own company’s downfall—her funds, her resources, all poured into Reliance Group to prop up Chris’s failing enterprise. The decision had left Drake Group vulnerable and near collapse, a crisis worsened by her absence. She’d taken on a symbolic CEO role, pushing aside her leadership duties to focus on a marriage that had never been more than a string of broken promises. But she was done with that now. It’s now time for her to lead again.
The familiar feeling of resolve pulsed through Lilian as she stepped into Drake Group headquarters, her strides firm and her purpose clear. This was her second chance, and nothing—not Chris, not her scheming Uncle George—was going to stand in her way.
The staff gave her courteous nods and startled looks as she moved through the premises. She had relegated herself to a nominal position for the sake of her husband, and it had been a long time since she had assumed a full role at the company. But those days were behind her. She’d allowed herself to fall into the background to save Chris’s company, Reliance Group, at the cost of her own. She couldn’t believe how naive she’d been.
Now, Lilian’s mind flitted to her grandfather. Memories of him felt like warm beams in a cold room, but the ache of regret quickly followed. He had begged her, time and again, to visit him. She remembered the last call she’d missed—she was buying pastries for Chris, tending to his whims while her grandfather had slipped away. She took a steadying breath. She’d carry that sorrow forever, but her rebirth had come with a purpose: to protect her company, honor her grandfather’s legacy, and reclaim her identity.
Once inside her office, she paused, letting the moment wash over her. The air conditioner's soft hum and the subtle aroma of wood polish and leather were all the same. Even though she was at home, there was a weird feeling of unfamiliarity mixed with nostalgia. She had lost so much time. But no more.
The door to her office swung open, and in strode her Uncle George, radiating his usual smug arrogance. Lilian’s pulse quickened as she met his gaze, but she forced herself to maintain a neutral expression.
"Dear niece," George greeted, his voice dripping with forced cheer, "to what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?"
She took a moment to respond, letting the tension hang in the air. George was enthusiastic, but she knew better than to believe it was sincere. He had always looked down on her, just another obstacle to his ambition.
“I’m back, Uncle,” she replied, her voice cool and steady. “I’m resuming my position—fully, this time.”
For a moment, George’s expression faltered. His smile strained, and his eyes sharpened, betraying the shock he tried to mask. He leaned forward slightly, his posture tense. "May I ask why this sudden change of heart?"
Lilian met his gaze with steely resolve. “I’ve been given the green light by my grandfather before he passed. This company is as much my legacy as it is his. I’m here to make sure it thrives.”
George chuckled, the sound bitter and sharp. “You?” he mocked. “I don’t think the business world is in your expertise, my dear. Better to leave that to the big guys like me. You, on the other hand, have a home to tend to. And a husband, if I’m not mistaken.”
A slow, confident smile spread across Lilian’s face. “How did that collaboration with Transdor Group go, Uncle?”
His face tightened at her words. She could tell he was barely holding back an irritated scowl. "I… I'm handling it," he muttered, almost to himself.
“Really? Because from what I’ve gathered, it’s you who’s being handled.” Her voice was soft, almost pitying, as she watched him squirm. She took a step closer, holding his gaze. “Instead of worrying about my choices, maybe you should focus on your own. Consider this a warning—stick to your responsibilities, and I’ll handle mine.”
His nostrils flared, and he shot her a furious glare, his voice a low growl. “Don’t fly so high, niece. Chris will never agree to this. He won’t stand for you coming back.”
A cold satisfaction bloomed in her chest. She allowed a slight smirk to curve her lips. “Good thing I don’t need his permission.”
His brows knitted in confusion, uncertainty flickering across his features. “What do you mean?”
Lilian crossed her arms, her voice calm yet unyielding. “I mean I’m ending my marriage with Chris. He no longer has a say in what I do.”
George's mouth dropped wide, unable to speak. He appeared as though he had just been hit in the stomach. He struggled to put words together and eventually stumbled out of her office, already grabbing his phone and making a desperate call. “Find out if it's true that she's divorcing Chris,” she heard him whisper loudly.
With a weight lifted from her chest, Lilian let out a breath. Although she was tired after the confrontation, she was proud she defended her position. She had been waiting for this time, and she wasn't going to let it pass.
The gentle buzz of papers anchored her in a rhythm she had nearly forgotten as the hours went by. She worked long into the evening, determined to make up for lost time because she felt empowered by the sense of control she had over her life and her business. But as the hours passed and her energy level dropped, she eventually succumbed to tiredness. The constant pain in her neck and back caused discomfort in every muscle due to prolonged sitting.
She glanced at the clock with a sigh. The building was extremely quiet as it grew late. After collecting her things and switching off the final light in her office, she entered the slightly dark hallway. As she walked towards the parking lot, the sound of her steps echoed in the quiet atmosphere.
She noticed a familiar figure in the darkness as she approached her vehicle. She observed him sitting in the driver's seat of a Rolls Royce, headlights lowered, parked near her stylish black car. He was fully engrossed in his phone.
Lilian felt a surge of fear and excitement as her heart raced, and she suddenly couldn't breathe.
It was twenty past eleven when Jack arrived at 52 Forsythe Avenue. He turned the engine off. "Let's go," he said to Sam, opening the door.Sam followed him up the old building stairs. The suave cohesion of jazz drifted in through an open window from somewhere above them. There was a string next door, their voices blending into undistinguishable blasphemy.Jack hovered outside Mike Freeway's apartment and pulled his coat collar up. "This guy is going to make a statement," he whispered. “Get it down.”“Yes, sir,” Sam replied, his notebook already out.Jack pressed the bell.Sam heard the rustle of footsteps and the scrape of a chair during the brief silence. The door opened, and Mike Freeway stood with a wet sponge over his swollen right eye.He glared from Jack to Sam, a flush of embarrassment creeping into his eyes. "Ah… it's you.""Aye," Jack snarled, elbowing him aside and into the room. "You're still alive, I notice."Freeway paused before stepping aside. "I said earlier, Lieutenan
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Jack pushed open the door to the charge room before heading to his office, and the smell of damp uniforms and old coffee drifted out. He moved through the room, his eyes hungry and watchful.“Anything new?” His voice carried the weight of expectation.The desk sergeant stiffened. “The Commissioner and the Captain are on their way over, sir. Holland hasn’t been picked up yet. Detective Brooks and a couple of men are waiting at his house. Sergeant Sanders just came in—waiting for the Commissioner.”Jack’s jaw flexed. “I’ll be in my office if the Commissioner wants me.”“Yes, sir. Nothing else that’d interest you.” The sergeant hesitated, eyes darting down to his report sheet. “Except… J. Cole’s in trouble. Picked up ten minutes ago on a vacant lot in Spring Street. Beaten badly. Our men say he might not make it. Whoever hit him didn’t hold back.”Jack froze for half a beat, Drew’s words replaying in his mind. J. Cole had told Sean where to find Evelyn Chase. And now Cole was barely aliv
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