INICIAR SESIÓNFear spread quickly, because in the underground world, those names were not small,they were warnings, people you avoided, not fought.Then another figure entered the battlefield from the far side, cutting through the chaos without slowing, Zogo Walton. Gun in hand, eyes cold, every shot he fired dropped a man. No wasted movement. No hesitation.“Zogo… Walton?” one of the enemies stammered, stepping back.A ripple of fear spread through their ranks.Zogo Walton was not just a name, it was a warning. The ruthless mafia boss of the East. The man who ruled the entire east side of the city without question. No one dared challenge him. Even the powerful bosses from the North and West treated him with caution, choosing their moves carefully whenever his name was involved. And now…He was here.“What the hell is this job?!” another shouted.“We were told she’s just a rich heir!”“A fool…!” someone added, panic breaking through their voice.But now, looking at Amara, at the people around her, a
When they finally reached her parents’ grave, Amara didn’t slow down. She walked forward as if nothing was wrong, as if no guns were quietly aimed at her from the shadows. The cold morning air brushed against her skin as her black dress moved softly with each step. Without looking around, without showing even the slightest fear, she stepped in front of the grave and slowly knelt down.In her hands, the flowers she had carefully chosen were placed with gentle precision, her fingers adjusting each stem as if this moment mattered more than everything else around her. Then she lit a candle calmly, shielding the small flame with her hand as it flickered against the light fog, fragile yet steady, just like her.Behind her, tension tightened like a wire ready to snap.“Four minutes,” Finn said quietly through the earpiece, his eyes scanning every direction without missing a detail.“They’re getting closer.” Cristy’s voice followed immediately, low and precise. “Two moving behind the left pat
“Our team,” Amara explained quietly. “They’re at the cemetery right now.”Cristy’s eyes widened in shock. Even though she was Amara’s personal assistant, she didn’t know about this plan because Amara was used to moving alone. “And Zogo’s people don’t know?” she asked.Amara shook her head.“That’s why I’m worried,” she said calmly. “They might mistake each other for enemies… and end up hurting each other.”Finn, still focused on driving, spoke without turning back.“Then tell them.”Amara looked at him through the rearview mirror.“You’re the boss,” Finn continued steadily. “Your people listen to you. Give the order. Make it clear.”For a moment, Amara said nothing.The weight of his words settled over her.She had almost forgotten that part.She wasn’t just someone being protected.She was someone others followed.Slowly, she nodded.“You’re right.”She picked up her phone again at the same time activating the earpiece Brook had given her earlier. Her eyes remained steady, her expres
At four o’clock in the morning, the house was already awake.The long dining table was filled with quiet tension.Amara sat near the center, her posture calm and composed. Zogo sat on her right, his body slightly angled toward her, alert and watchful. Cristy sat close on her left, almost too close, as if ready to protect her at any moment. Across from them, Jerald, Brook, and Finn remained seated in silence, their eyes sharp, their expressions serious.The soft light above reflected on the polished surface of the table, casting a pale glow across their faces. Plates of untouched food sat neatly arranged.Mario, the butler, and Rita moved quietly around them, placing dishes and pouring drinks with careful, practiced movements. Even they could feel the heavy atmosphere, and neither dared to make unnecessary noise.No one spoke at first.The air felt thick.Zogo, seated at the center, finally broke the silence. He looked at Brook.“How is the cemetery?” he asked, his voice low but firm.
On the other side of the city, behind tall iron gates and old stone walls covered with ivy, Page Villa stood quiet in the night. From the outside, the mansion looked peaceful, its windows glowing softly under the moonlight. But inside, the air felt cold and heavy.The large chandeliers in the hall were dim. Long shadows stretched across the marble floor. The servants had already been sent away.Tonight, no one else was allowed inside the house.Damian stood beside the tall window, looking at the distant city lights. The city looked calm and alive, but inside him, there was only anger.His reflection stared back at him with sharp eyes, a tense jaw, and a face filled with cold determination.He began pacing slowly across the floor.Back and forth.His footsteps echoed through the quiet hall.Tonight, his thoughts were filled with only one thing.The inheritance.Behind him, Edgar Page sat calmly in a large leather chair. His silver hair was neat, and his cane rested beside him. Unlike D
Meanwhile, at the Musk estate…The morning light crept slowly through the tall curtains of Damian’s room. He stirred awake, his head heavy from the wine of the night before. With a low groan, he reached for the bell rope beside his bed, summoning a maid.The door opened, and a young maid stepped in quietly, bowing her head.“Where is Father?” Damian asked gruffly, rubbing his temples. “And Aston? They weren’t at breakfast… and Amara?”The maid hesitated, her eyes lowering to the floor. “Don Victor left before sunrise, sir. He instructed me to inform you he is taking a vacation… for his health. And… Miss Amara also departed, though she did not say where.”Damian sat up straighter, a sharp frown cutting deep lines into his face. “A vacation? Without telling me? And Amara too?”“Yes, sir,” the maid answered softly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “He left with Aston and a few trusted maids. He… he said not to be disturbed.”Damian’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. His fath
The black car rolled to a slow halt as the tall, wrought-iron gates of the Walton estate loomed into view. The emblem of the family an intricate crest of intertwined lions and a crown gleamed in the sunlight, etched boldly into the metal. The gates themselves stretched so high it felt as though the
The car purred softly as it rolled out of the Musk estate gates, the early morning light spilling faintly across the sky. The chauffeur, a quiet man in a dark uniform, kept his eyes on the road, his gloved hands steady on the wheel. Inside the back seat, Amara sat by the window, her reflection fain
The dinner had ended warmly, the air in the old mansion filled with the faint smell of wine and roasted lamb. Amara lingered near the tall windows of the balcony, her shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders. The night outside was calm, the city lights blinking like distant stars.Zogo stood besi
The room seemed to shrink around them, the fire’s glow flickering against old stone walls. Don Victor’s glass remained untouched in his hand, though the ice had already melted, thinning the amber liquid within. For the first time that evening, his eyes left Zogo’s face and drifted toward the darken







