LOGINCeline sat in her study two full weeks after the assassination attempt, the scene still replaying in her mind.Those memories should have weakened her, but instead they forged something colder, stronger, almost unshakeable. The wound to Carter had hardened her resolve rather than broken it.She sat behind the wide mahogany desk, fingers brushing over neatly arranged documents, but her eyes remained distant until Emilia quietly entered the room holding a tablet and a notebook.“You asked for me, ma’am?” Emilia said.Celine looked up, the sharpness in her gaze softening slightly. “Sit, Emilia. We need to talk—clearly and without pretense.”Emilia obeyed, though she sensed something heavy coming.For a moment, Celine was silent, tapping a pen lightly against the desk. Then she leaned back.“I know you’ve suspected this already,” she began, her tone calm but direct, “but I want to state it plainly, I’m not just trying to destabilize Brooks Enterprises. I intend to take over the company c
The flashing hospital lights and the sharp smell of antiseptic did nothing to calm the storm raging inside Celine. The moment she arrived, she moved with a frantic, restless energy, her steps quick, her breaths uneven. She paced the hallway outside Carter’s room, unable to sit, unable to swallow the fear sitting heavy in her chest.Collins stood close, eyes sharp, shoulders tense, his entire posture coiled like a spring ready to strike. Emilia sat on one of the plastic chairs in the corridor, hands trembling around a cup of untouched water. Her eyes were red, her breathing shallow. The shock of the shooting held her in a silent daze.Every second stretched painfully.Every sound felt amplified, the distant beeping of machines, the squeak of nurses’ shoes, the murmur of doctors discussing patients. Celine gripped her own arms, trying to stay composed, but the memory of Carter’s blood soaking her hands kept replaying with brutal clarity.When the doctor finally emerged from the roo
Two days after the disastrous will-reading, the weather in the city had turned cold, but the chill inside the dimly lit bar on the outskirts of town came from something far darker than the air. The place smelled of cigarette smoke and old secrets. The lights were low, shadows clinging to the corners like silent witnesses.Evelyn Brooks sat at a secluded booth dressed in all black—a fitted blazer, gloves, and a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses she didn’t remove even indoors. To anyone watching, she looked like a woman in mourning. In reality, she was a woman plotting.Across from her sat a man known only in whispers. Scorpion. He was lean, sharp-eyed, and carried the type of tension that came from living on the wrong side of the law for too long. His fingers drummed quietly on the table as he scanned the bar repeatedly, never looking relaxed, always alert.He finally spoke. “You’re playing a dangerous game, madam. The woman you’re asking about… she is not small. She’s a big target.”
Alex’s breath grew harsher as the final words of the will echoed in his ears. The room seemed to shrink around him, the walls pressing closer, mocking him. His hands trembled, not with fear but with a rage that had been building for weeks. And then something inside him snapped.Before anyone could react, Alex slapped the stack of will papers out of Barrister Walters’ hands. The documents scattered across the marble floor like leaves tossed into a violent wind. The sharp sound jolted Melissa, and even Celine’s heartbeat kicked up.Barrister Walters stared at the mess in shock, frozen for only a moment before Alex grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him half out of his seat.“Alex!” Melissa gasped.Celine rose immediately, her voice cutting through the chaos. “STOP THIS NONSENSE RIGHT NOW!”Her tone carried a force that tore through the tension like a whip. Alex turned to her sharply. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed. A sad, broken, almost mocking laughter.“Why should I stop?” he as
The atmosphere in the O’Neil mansion that morning was nothing like the warmth it once held. The air was thick with tension and expectation, especially in the main sitting room where the family had gathered. Heavy curtains softened the sunlight, but nothing could soften the heaviness in the room.It was finally the day Alex had been waiting for, the reading of Grandma O’Neil’s will.For days, he had counted down to this moment. For nights, he had lain awake replaying every sacrifice he believed he had made for the family and the company. All his secret attempts to meet Barrister Walters privately, to “understand” or even influence the will, had failed. The old man had refused to bend, refused to reveal anything. That refusal only deepened Alex’s agitation.Now, he sat on one of the long couches, close to his sister Melissa, but deliberately far from Celine.Celine sat on the opposite end of the room, back straight, expression composed, a calmness wrapped around her like armour. She
Adam stormed into the house with a kind of restless anger that refused to sit quietly inside him. Every step he took felt rushed, sharp, unsettled. His mind had been spinning since the moment he left the mall, and even stepping into his own living room brought him no comfort. He tried to catch his breath, but the image of Celine, confident, empowered, guarded by two heavily built men, followed him like a haunting shadow.He tossed his keys onto the table with a loud clatter. Barbra looked up from the couch with a startled expression, while Evelyn, who was seated beside her with a cup of tea, gave him one brief glance before turning her attention back to the news playing on the television.He barely had the chance to sit when the news anchor’s voice rose sharply, announcing breaking news about O’Neil Corporation’s expansion into New York. Adam’s stomach tightened. The screen shifted to a massive skyscraper under construction, steel framework glinting under the sun, workers moving l







