Masuk“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 heavy doors of Walton estate swung open with quiet grace, revealing the expanse of the grand foyer. Polished marble gleamed beneath the golden light spilling from the chandeliers, and the faint scent of lilies lingered in the air. Amara’s gaze swept across space, her heart beating a little faster. Everything here felt carefully curated, alive with wealth and memory.At the center of the foyer stood two figures waiting with expectant smiles….an older man dressed impeccably in a butler’s uniform, and a kindly woman whose lined face softened the moment her eyes fell on Amara.Zogo’s hand pressed gently against the smell of Amara’s back, guiding her forward with quiet reassurance. “Amara,” he began warmly, his voice holding a note of fondness she hadn’t heard before, “I want you to meet two people who have been with me for as long as I can remember. This is Mario our family’s butler, though to me, he has always been much more than that. And this……” his eyes softened further as they tur
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 they touched the morning sky. Two uniformed guards stood rigidly at either side, their posture as sharp as the polished rifles strapped across their shoulders.Cristy shifted in her seat, adjusting the strap of her bag, her gaze steady but thoughtful as she looked out the window.“Impressive,” she murmured quietly, her voice calm, measured. “It seems the stories about the Walton estate weren’t exaggerated.”Amara said nothing at first. Her gaze lifted slowly, following the length of the towering gates. Her chest tightened. She was no stranger to wealth, the Musk estate had been grand, filled with lavish paintings, marble floors, and chandeliers that had hung for decades. But there was a differe
The rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle by the time Jerald returned to the café.But Cristy was gone.He stepped through the narrow black door, glancing around the dim, cozy interior. The soft jazz still played, the scent of roasted beans and something faintly floral hung in the air but the booth wa
Jerald adjusted the collar of his coat as he stepped out of the car, the drizzle misting over Gracelane’s cobblestone pavement. Number 17 stood inconspicuously at the corner…...a narrow black door tucked between a flower shop and a bookstore, marked only by a rusted brass number. Most people passed
Walton Tower, Late AfternoonThe afternoon sun filtered through the tall, tinted windows of Walton Tower, casting a warm, diluted glow across the polished obsidian floor of Zogo Walton’s office. The towering windows looked out over the city like silent sentinels, keeping watch over the kingdom he r
The night had folded itself in quiet shadows as Amara sat alone in her room, the light from the chandelier above her bed flickering like it couldn’t decide whether to stay or fade. She was halfway through untying the ribbon from her dress when a knock echoed from the door three sharp taps.She stra







