The clock ticked steadily in the lavish office of Charles Hudson, one of the most powerful and feared men in York City. The dim lighting cast long shadows over the room, where Charles sat at his massive mahogany desk, sifting through stacks of documents.
The past few days had been hectic, forcing him to postpone reviewing these business transactions. But now, as his fingers flipped through the pages, his mind calculated profits, losses, and more importantly loyalties.
A knock interrupted his focus.
Charles ignored it. He had made a promise to himself to finish going through the files before dealing with any distractions.
Knock. Knock.
This time, the sound was louder, more insistent. Charles exhaled, irritation creeping into his otherwise composed demeanor.
"Come in," he said, his voice low and cold, carrying an air of authority.
His assistant, a nervous young man named Marcus, stepped in and bowed slightly.
"Sir, we've just received an invitation from Carbon Tech Industry," Marcus announced. "They're hosting a major event tonight and have requested your presence as one of their top VIP guests."
Charles didn't look up. Business invitations were nothing new to him. Everyone in York City wanted to align themselves with him, not out of respect but out of fear.
Without breaking his concentration from the documents, Charles simply muttered, "You know what to do."
Marcus hesitated. He had only been working under Charles for a few months and wasn't accustomed to his cryptic responses. His confusion was evident, but he dared not ask for clarification.
Once he was safely outside the office, Marcus muttered under his breath, "What the hell does that even mean?"
Charles finally finished reviewing the documents and leaned back in his chair. He ran a hand through his thick dark hair and sighed. Three hours, that's how long he had been immersed in the files.
Checking his watch, he realized it was lunchtime. Pushing his chair back lazily, he got up and strolled toward the dining hall.
At the large family table, his twin girls, cherry and Chelsea, sat eagerly waiting for him. Charles had always been a man of power and calculation, but around his children, his demeanor softened at least for a while.
As they began eating, his phone vibrated on the table.
He answered, keeping his tone neutral. "Yes?"
"Mr. Charles, we just landed." The voice on the other end was calm, professional.
"Good," Charles replied. "You know what to do."
The call ended.
Charles looked at his girls and smiled. "Eat up, we've got a busy day ahead."
Meanwhile, at Carbon Tech Industry, a fleet of black SUVs pulled up to the warehouse. Men in dark suits unloaded large crates, carefully handling the contents inside.
Pete, one of Charles' most trusted men, oversaw the delivery. As he checked the cargo, a voice called out from behind him.
"Mr. Pete," said a man in a sleek gray suit. "I see you've taken the time to personally ensure the delivery. I've heard a lot of rumors about your boss. Any chance I'll meet him?"
Pete smirked. "Play your cards right and wait patiently."
With that, he signaled for his men to move.
Back at the estate, After a full day with his twins, Charles tucked them into bed. He had canceled most of his meetings, wanting some peace.
As he stepped out of their room, something caught his eye a shadow like figure, just a flicker of movement at the end of the dimly lit hallway.
His instincts flared. He moved swiftly, his steps silent, ready to catch the intruder off guard. But when he reached the spot, there was no one there. Only the long, flowing curtains dancing with the wind.
Charles exhaled sharply. His mind was playing tricks on him again. Or maybe the ghosts of his past were getting restless.
He muttered a name through gritted teeth.
"Dominic."
Memories surfaced blood, betrayal, a bond shattered.
The past never stayed buried.
The Grand Event at Green Bay Hotel
The Green Bay Hotel, one of the most luxurious venues in York City, was the setting for Carbon Tech Industry's prestigious event.
Wealthy businessmen, politicians, and social elites filled the grand hall. The air buzzed with anticipation.
Mr. Brown Parker, heir to the Parker family fortune, stood backstage. As the host of the night, he straightened his tie, taking a deep breath before stepping into the spotlight.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer's voice boomed, "please welcome our esteemed host for the evening, the visionary, Mr. Brown Parker!"
The hall erupted in applause as Brown took center stage, basking in the attention.
"Thank you all for being here tonight," he said smoothly. "Tonight is not just about technology it's about the future. And I hope some of you will join me in building that future together."
As he scanned the audience, Brown smirked. His connections were growing stronger. His influence expanding.
But he had no idea who was watching him from the shadows.
Back at his estate, Charles had just finished his evening routine. He changed into his nightwear, preparing to wind down.
Then His phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID—an unknown number.
His instincts told him not to answer.
But he did.
A voice, smooth and hauntingly familiar, came through.
"Hello, Charles. It's been a while."
Immediately Charles' blood ran cold.