LOGINThe old man’s eyes narrowed as his thoughts turned colder and more calculated. He already knew the stories surrounding Amara Musk and the Musk family. Ever since her parents died, the city had quietly labeled her as unstable, a pitiful heiress constantly hidden under Don Victor’s protection. But since none of it had anything to do with the Walton family before, Solomon never paid much attention to those rumors.But now, things were different.No matter how he looked at it, Amara did not seem like someone who belonged beside his grandson.And yet…Zogo had acknowledged her as his wife without the slightest hesitation.That alone unsettled Solomon.Because more than anyone else, he understood his grandson. Zogo was never impulsive. Never emotional. Every decision he made carried weight, strategy, and intention. Which meant if he had chosen to marry Amara Musk, then there was something about her the rest of the city had not yet uncovered.A quiet knock of porcelain broke the silence as th
Amara looked at him before shaking her head slightly. “It’s okay. I can handle them myself.”Brook leaned lightly against the wall while Jerald stayed beside him quietly observing the exchange.Finn cleared his throat before speaking carefully. “Mr. Walton also has an important meeting tomorrow. He might not be able to stay close the entire time.”“That’s fine,” Amara replied calmly.Zogo’s brows furrowed faintly, clearly still dissatisfied with the idea of her going alone. His thoughts briefly shifted to the board of directors meeting tomorrow: political pressure, hidden agendas, and people who would immediately sense weakness if Amara walked in without proper protection or support.Then suddenly, he looked toward Jerald.“From tomorrow onward,” Zogo said calmly, “you’ll stay beside Amara.”Jerald blinked once in slight surprise.“As her bodyguard?”“Yes.” The answer came immediately.Brook looked amused from the side while Wendel raised a brow.Jerald straightened slightly before no
At the Walton Mansion, the atmosphere had already settled into an uneasy calm after the chaos at the cemetery. The large living room, with its towering ceiling, crystal chandelier, and expensive European-style furniture, felt almost too quiet now like the house itself was holding its breath after everything that had happened.Dr. Rafael sat comfortably on one of the plush sofas, his posture relaxed as if he had just finished a routine procedure rather than a battlefield operation. Across from him, Wendel could not stay still. He kept walking around the room like a curious child, eyes wide with open fascination as he examined everything the polished marble floors, the intricate carvings on the furniture, the sheer scale of wealth displayed in every corner.“This place is insane…” Wendel muttered under his breath, lightly tapping the edge of a table as if confirming it was real. “How much money do you even waste living like this, Zogo?”Zogo, standing near the side of the room with a to
Damian remained standing in the center of the room, his brows tightly furrowed as his mind replayed everything that had happened. Something wasn’t right. No matter how much he thought about it, none of it added up.Ever since Amara returned from the countryside, even while Don Victor had still been around, Damian had kept an eye on her every move. He had quietly watched her schedule, the people around her, where she went, and who she spoke to. He made sure nothing escaped his attention.Yet now, as Damian carefully replayed everything in his mind, he realized something that made his expression slowly darken : he could not remember a single moment where Amara and Zogo Walton had ever crossed paths. Not in public. Not in private. Not even a short conversation lasting a few minutes. There had been nothing suspicious, nothing that could connect the two of them. And that was exactly what disturbed him the most. Because a man like Zogo Walton did not involve himself with people without reas
After everything was settled in the cemetery, the gunfire faded into silence, and the fog slowly lifted with the early morning light.Zogo and Amara remained behind while the others stepped away, giving them space as the battlefield quietly returned to what it was meant to be, a place of rest.Amara stood in front of her parents’ grave, her expression calm but distant, as if her thoughts were somewhere far beyond the moment.Zogo stood beside her, his presence steady now, no longer sharp with anger but grounded and certain. It was his first time seeing the names carved into the stone: the people who had shaped the woman standing next to him.Slowly, he stepped forward and bowed his head in respect, his voice low but firm as he spoke, “I’ll take care of her. No one will touch her again.”Amara heard every word. Her fingers tightened slightly at her side as she turned to look at him, something unfamiliar flickering in her eyes; something softer, something she couldn’t quite name.But Zog
Fear 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
The chamber glowed in shades of amber and silver as the strange mix of old and new machines began to hum. Glass tubes carried golden liquid that pulsed and dripped, each drop sounding like the heartbeat of the antidote they were making.Zogo stood next to Amara, pretending to focus on the process on
The old stone walls, smooth from hundreds of years of touch, glowed in the warm light of the braziers. Copper pipes ran across the ceiling like the veins of a giant machine, dripping with water from the cold air outside. On the benches, rows of glass bottles and jars stood in perfect order some new
The heavy stone door groaned shut behind them, sealing the group inside. The air here was warmer, richer, carrying the faint scents of earth, herbs, and metal. Zogo felt it press in on him not suffocating, but thick, as if the very atmosphere carried the weight of centuries.The chamber was alive i
After their quiet exchange outside the hospital room, silence fell between Zogo and Amara. It wasn’t the cold, awkward kind…...it was the heavy, unspoken kind. Both of them stood there, side by side, as if their words were too fragile to voice.Cristy appeared first, her phone in hand, scanning the







