The sky was overcast, with gray clouds hanging low, as if adding a somber weight to this sorrowful day. A fine mist of rain fell gently, blurring the distant outlines of the mountains and settling upon the newly laid grass. The funeral procession stood quietly around the grave, each face etched with grief. Black umbrellas bloomed like a sea of darkness beneath the drizzling rain. The coffin was slowly lowered into the earth, and those dressed in somber black bowed their heads in silent prayer.The officiant's voice was soft and mournful, resonating in the stillness of the cemetery as he spoke of Noah Leslie's brief but illustrious life. His name had once been a legend in the business world, a self-made man who built a vast empire from the ground up. Yet today, the man who had once stood invincible now lay quietly in the coffin, a mere part of the past.Noah’s spirit stood silently to the side, watching it all unfold. He saw his wife, Kate Leslie, overcome with grief, her eyes swollen
He struggled, reaching out, desperate to hold onto something—anything—but his hands grasped only air, futilely waving in the emptiness. A cold, creeping chill began to crawl up his spine, sending shivers of dread through his body. His consciousness grew foggy, as though a thick mist was slowly clouding his thoughts, making it harder and harder to focus. The only sensation that remained sharp was a deep, gnawing fear, as if an endless abyss was drawing near, a chasm with no way out.As the darkness spread around him, Noah felt his mind begin to unravel. His limbs grew heavy, as though weighed down by invisible chains, his body sinking into an endless mire where movement was impossible. He could feel the crushing force of something far greater than himself, a relentless tide pushing him toward an unknown, bottomless void. Fear gripped him like a serpent, coiling tighter with every passing second, deepening his sense of helpless despair.Just as his consciousness seemed to slip into the
Noah began to outline the things he needed to learn and understand: Dean’s job responsibilities, the workings of the law firm, the background of his colleagues and superiors. He also jotted down personal matters to address, like managing relationships with family and friends and finding a balance between work and life. When he finished, he felt a slight sense of calm. Closing the notebook, he picked up his coffee and savored it slowly. The bittersweet flavor grounded him, a tangible reminder that this was no dream but a new reality he had to face head-on. Returning to the apartment, Noah once again examined Dean’s records, repeatedly reviewing his educational background, work experience, and social connections. He discovered that Dean was incredibly disciplined and hardworking, excelling academically throughout his life. In university, Dean had earned multiple scholarships and honors, and his involvement in legal projects had already given him a foothold in the field. Despite his yo
“Leroy Tam, 28 years old, heir to the family business. He’s led a life of luxury since childhood, and his personality is... flamboyant, to say the least. While he has some significant business talent, it’s made him somewhat arrogant. To him, business ethics and the law are often things he can overlook.” As Dean listened to Linda’s introduction, an impression of Leroy Tam gradually began to take shape in his mind. He had already sensed that Leroy was more than just a wealthy playboy—he was a deeply self-centered individual when it came to handling problems. Linda continued, “He’s incredibly selfish, and he often lacks genuine concern for his employees and business partners. Especially in this case, considering how he dared to use questionable, even illegal methods to provoke the mafia—you can imagine just how difficult he must be to deal with.”Dean’s heart gave a slight jolt, and he gained a clearer understanding of Leroy’s character. He began to worry that such a person might create
Dean was trapped in the corner, his stomach churning at the words coming from Leroy Tam. He forced himself to stay calm, resisting the wave of disgust threatening to overwhelm him. Trying to turn his body slightly, he sought to distance himself from Leroy Tam’s unnerving proximity. "Mr. Tam," he said with forced composure, "Please show some respect. I’m not interested in discussing anything else right now. If you’d like to continue the conversation about the case, I can inform Linda, and we can return to the client meeting room."But Leroy Tam had no intention of backing down. His hand reached for Dean’s waist, fingers grazing lightly, intent on brushing across his back. Even as Dean tried to evade the touch, Leroy Tam didn’t pull away—instead, he grew bolder, his fingers skimming over Dean’s sides, each movement more unsettling than the last. Dean felt revulsion rising within him but fought to suppress his emotions, striving to stay composed."You really are the type who can only att
Dean's heart sank. He knew that this was no longer just a personal attack—it was a direct threat to his entire career.Linda continued, her tone somber yet resolute. "The stance from the higher-ups is clear: they’re unwilling to pay any compensation. That means if Leroy Tam insists on his demands, we could be facing an even bigger predicament."Dean felt the weight of the situation press down on him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He understood the gravity of being forced to resign—it would not only tarnish his reputation but could severely hinder his future career prospects in the legal world.Linda noticed the worry in Dean’s eyes and, with a quiet determination, said, "I believe in you, Dean. I know you didn’t fabricate any evidence. You’re an honest and dedicated lawyer. Our task now is to find a way to prove that Leroy Tam's accusations are baseless."Dean’s eyes briefly softened with gratitude. He quietly replied, "Thank you, Linda. I know you’ve done so much f
Damon took a slow sip from his wine, completely unfazed. His posture was relaxed, but there was an underlying tension in the way he held himself. He looked at Dean with a sharp intensity. "If you refuse my offer, then what's in it for me to help you?" His gaze pierced through Dean, exuding an almost predatory confidence. It was as if he had anticipated this very moment, already knowing the exact response he would get. His words hung in the air like a challenge, unspoken yet clearly present: You want my help? Then pay the price. Dean gritted his teeth, feeling vaguely uneasy in his mind, but calmly asked, “What do you want?” He didn't like Damon's ambiguous attitude, yet he knew he had no choice at this moment. The prerequisite for going toe-to-toe with Leroy Tam was that he had to get Damon on his side. Damon revealed a wry smile, his eyes gradually becoming dangerous and ambiguous. He whispered, “Sleep with you.” These three words just slipped out so easily, without a care in the
Dean’s fingers clenched involuntarily, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, the urge to lash out nearly overwhelming. But he forced himself to take a deep breath, to swallow the searing frustration that threatened to explode. He held Damon’s gaze, his voice a low rasp, barely able to keep his composure as he squeezed the words out from between clenched teeth, the same line as before: "Is there any other way?"Damon’s smile deepened, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes as he leaned into the game with even more audacity. “Oh, there’s another way—sleep with you, three times,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. His gaze locked onto Dean’s with unflinching boldness, treating the negotiation as though it were a theatrical performance crafted for his amusement. In Damon’s playful yet piercing eyes, Dean could see his own rising frustration reflected, twisting into an unbearable sense of futility.Dean clenched his
The air was cold, sharper here than it had been on the road. The distant rustle of trees and the faint crunch of gravel underfoot told him they were back—back at the villa, back in the place he had so desperately tried to flee. The realization tightened around his chest like a vice.Rough hands yanked him upright, forcing him to stumble forward. He couldn’t see, but he could feel—every tug on his bound limbs, every scrape of dirt and stone beneath his bare feet, every mocking laugh from his captors. They manhandled him without care, each shove and pull stripping away another fragment of his dignity.And yet, amid the chaos, Dean's mind raced. He couldn't stop thinking about what awaited him on the other side of those villa doors. Shawn’s rage, his cold, calculating demeanor, his penchant for turning Dean’s defiance into a lesson… It all loomed over him like an impending storm.But fear wasn’t the only thing brewing in Dean’s heart. There was something else, buried beneath the layers o
That night, Dean leaned against the window of the villa, his gaze sweeping over the endless expanse of forest. A thought, one he had buried for far too long, surged to the forefront of his mind—escape. The idea wasn’t new; it had lingered for weeks, perhaps months. But fear, coupled with the relentless pain his body endured, had always forced him to suppress it. This time, however, was different. A quiet determination began to take root in his chest. He knew that if he stayed, he would only face endless torment. Anger and defiance churned within him, a smoldering ember on the verge of igniting, granting him a rare and precious courage.Over the next few days, Dean began preparing in secret. He packed only the bare essentials: water, clothing, and a few rudimentary bandages—all crammed into a small bag. He had no room for sentiment or hesitation. His singular focus was to leave this place of despair behind, even if it meant pushing his battered body to its breaking point.And then, the
The image of ruthless gangs he had seen on the internet instantly flashed through his mind—lawless groups capable of unspeakable deeds. Among them, the Shark Gang stood out. At this moment, Dean was certain: perhaps the Dragon Gang and Cobra Gang weren’t as savage, but the Shark Gang? They were wild beasts, untamed and without conscience."So, it’s true..." Dean muttered under his breath. His grip on the file tightened, his knuckles turning pale. He could feel the fury welling up inside him, threatening to break free. But he knew better. Letting anger consume him now would only make him an easier pawn for Shawn to manipulate.Taking a deep, steadying breath, Dean forced himself to tamp down the storm within. He turned his attention to the other walls in the room, desperate to uncover more clues—especially about the enigmatic figure Shawn kept mentioning. The mystery gnawed at him like a thorn lodged deep in his mind, sharp and relentless."Even the faintest hint will do..." he whisper
Dean trudged through the villa with heavy steps, his pace deliberated and unhurried. Though places like this no longer fazed him—after all, it wasn’t the first time he had been confined in such surroundings—his sharp eyes still swept over every room with practiced vigilance. He pushed open a door and found himself in a study.However, this study was unlike any he had encountered before. The walls, adorned with nearly bare shelves, held little more than a few ornamental objects and a couple of lifeless potted plants. Dean's brow furrowed slightly as he paced around the room, scanning every corner. Yet, not a single book was in sight.“A study without books?” he murmured, a hint of perplexity in his voice. “Doesn’t this mafia boss like to read?”The thought took him back to the other places he’d been held, where the captors were eager to flaunt their cultivated tastes. Lavish rooms often boasted rare art pieces or collections of antique tomes, designed more to impress than to be used. T
The question was more rhetorical than genuine—Dean already had a good idea. A secluded location like this could only serve as a front for illicit activities. Yet, something compelled him to ask. To his surprise, this seemingly straightforward inquiry yielded an unexpected clue.Shawn leaned casually against the wall, the faint jingle of keys in his hand punctuating the stillness. His tone carried a strange mix of nonchalance and sentimentality. “This?” he said, glancing around as if seeing the place anew. “This is a villa I gave to that person.”Dean’s attention sharpened instantly, though his expression remained carefully neutral. Shawn’s words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. Who was this person? And why had they been significant enough to warrant such a gift from someone like Shawn?Dean paused for a moment, his mind churning with questions. “That person?” he thought. He didn’t press, choosing instead to remain silent, waiting for Shawn to elaborate.Shawn glanced
Shawn halted in his tracks, a cold sneer curling his lips as mockery gleamed in his eyes. “Oh, so you do care about your friend, huh?” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I ask you to recall certain things, and you respond by bringing up your friend?” His tone was sharp, taunting, as though Dean's question was beneath his notice.Dean clenched his teeth, swallowing the surge of frustration and despair. He knew all too well that in his current state, he had no leverage, no cards to play. Yet, desperation outweighed pride as he pressed on, his voice trembling with plea, “Please… just tell me…”To Dean, this wasn’t merely about a friend. It was about Damon, Chen, and Leo—three people who stood among the precious few he could trust, the pillars of strength in his life. He couldn’t just sit here, powerless and in the dark, while their fates hung by a thread."I could tell you," Shawn murmured, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a low, insidious tone that coiled around Dean li
The relentless torment had pushed Dean’s mind to the brink of collapse. His strength was rapidly draining, every fiber of his being crying out for respite. Yet he knew, deep down, that if he didn’t act now, he would perish in vain.As Shawn yanked his head out of the water once more, Dean seized the fleeting moment. Summoning the last reserves of his strength, he wrenched free from the hand that had clamped down on him like a vice. He crumpled onto the poolside, collapsing against the cold, hard surface, his chest heaving with desperate gasps for air. Wet strands of hair clung to his face as he lowered his head, his voice raspy and exhausted."I can’t remember..." he croaked, the words carrying a note of raw despair. "No matter how hard you push me, it won’t change a thing."Shawn stared at him, the fury on his face giving way to a cold, mocking smile. Slowly, he crouched down, raising a hand to slap Dean’s face lightly. Each tap was deliberate as if savoring the moment. His voice, lo
“Ah!” he gasped, his body still reeling from the first blow, but there was no time to recover. The second strike came almost immediately, this time even harder. The belt lashed into him with vicious precision, the pain slicing through his composure and digging straight into his nerves.Dean clenched his jaw, trying with every ounce of strength not to cry out, but the sheer intensity overwhelmed him. A guttural growl escaped his throat as he doubled over as much as his restraints allowed, his breathing ragged and uneven.Shawn watched Dean with cold, calculating eyes, savoring the power he held over him. He raised the belt slowly, the motion deliberated, his voice unsettlingly calm. “Remember yet? Or do you need me to help you jog your memory?”Dean’s mind raced, panic beginning to set in. He realized that if he didn’t find a way out of this, he might not make it through the night. His chest tightened with each breath, the taste of blood rising in his throat as he struggled to stay con
Before the words had fully left the stranger’s mouth, Dean was struck by a searing pain in his abdomen. The man had kicked him hard, the force so brutal that Dean doubled over, a stifled groan escaping his lips. “Ah… “. It was hurt.He barely had a moment to recover before another vicious kick landed, this time slamming into his shoulder. The impact sent him sprawling to the cold, unyielding floor. With his hands bound, he had no way to steady himself. His face scraped against the rough surface, leaving his skin stinging and raw.Gasping for air, Dean barely had time to process the situation before a heavy boot pressed down mercilessly on his chest. The weight crushed his ribcage, making it almost impossible to breathe. He squirmed instinctively, but the pressure only increased. The man above him let out a mocking chuckle, his voice dripping with derision.“Struggle, Dean,” he sneered. “Let’s see how proud you can still be.”Dean gritted his teeth, cold sweat streaming down his forehe