Jack Spencer used to be someone else. Someone older, someone hardened, someone who made the mistake of trusting the wrong people—and paid for it with his life. Now, he’s in a different body, staring at a future that doesn’t belong to him. He should be grateful for this second chance. He should want to start over. But how do you move forward when every part of you is still trapped in the past? How do you live when you already died once? Jack tells himself he doesn’t need friends. He doesn’t need love. He doesn’t need anything but distance. But the more he pushes people away, the more they insist on seeing the person he refuses to be. And when the remnants of his past begin creeping into his new life, Jack has to decide: Is he doomed to repeat the same mistakes, or can he finally break free from the dead-end path that refuses to let him go? (Trigger Warnings Included)
View MoreI admit, I got a bit lost in my quest for revenge that I forgot the goal was to get Victor out of his job, not offer him a different avenue. I guess there were no loopholes in the missions after all. The shareholders' meeting Victor called was tomorrow, and all was quiet—especially for me. Literally, everything had fallen into place exactly the way I wanted it to. My dad thought I was doing great by even getting a shareholders meeting called and going after HUG, unaware of my real intentions to get back at Ayla successfully... but I couldn't enjoy it. What the hell was going to explode?! The house? The car? Me? Is there an explosive in my belly? "My stomach," I mumbled. "It's just nerves, young master. Your first shareholders' meeting is tomorrow, after all, and you've successfully managed to get around HUG," Erwin said, his voice calm, but his eyes still scanning the room for any sign of trouble. "Yeah, that's cool and all, but why has Lance Spears been so quiet? I woul
"Quiet, call him now," Jared demanded, his voice low and sharp, his hand tightly gripping the gun aimed at the receptionist. Her hands trembled, and she froze, caught between fear and her only choice. Jared's glare was unforgiving. The rest of the office was dead silent, everyone avoiding making a sound as they tried not to be noticed by Jared. The tension in the room was thick, heavy. "Make sure none of the others make a sound to tip off Lance that we've arrived," Jared added, his commanding tone making it clear that there was no room for argument. Waving a gun, it turned out, was a remarkably efficient way to get things done. And disabling the security and surveillance systems had been so easy that it almost made me question how Jared wasn't a gangster. He had the potential, for sure. "Don't cry," Jared said, his voice softening just a touch. "I'm not interested in killing anyone, but I'm not above it either. As long as you all cooperate, no one will get hurt. Call him and sound
"We'll be executing a search and seizure warrant on allegations of illegal trading. I inform you that you are entitled to an attorney," the man in front of me announced, flashing his badge a little too close to my face. I squinted at his ID, even though I already knew his name—Victor Nelson. This slimy bastard had a reputation. A corrupt prosecutor, frequently bought out by conglomerates to abuse his position of power. In my past life, he had completely wrecked my reputation in the business world. He'd pinned fabricated charges on a garbage disposal company I had a stake in, overstepping his authority in ways I hadn't even noticed until I lost everything. That one move made it almost impossible for me to move up and go legit like I wanted. And now, here he was again. In this life. Just as corrupt. Just as bought out. This time, clearly working with HUG. I exhaled through my nose, keeping my expression casual. "Right," I said, turning back to my phone, feigning disinterest.
Mom was so pleased with how the reunion turned out that she took things a step further—by the end of the night, she had already initiated a hostile takeover of Johnson Hotels nationwide. She wasn't about to let anyone steal her bragging rights. As for Andrew Sullivan? He was demoted from his position as a show of loyalty to Dad. Dad, of course, praised me for handling things so efficiently. But he still wasn't ready to show his face in public yet. He looked fine to me, but I had a feeling it had more to do with insecurity. Debbie's attack had rattled him more than he let on. That was his problem. Mine? Ayla Spears. She was responsible for introducing gang shit into my life indirectly, and I had to get her for it. Thankfully, the system agreed. [New Mission: Defend Empire Reward: Company-wide Acknowledgment Penalty: Investor Dropouts] Good shit. *** "HUG Group has hired some really good lawyers, just as expected," Henry, Dad's assistant, informed me. "They'll spare no
"SHUT UP!!! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE PRETTY AND SKINNY DOESN'T MAKE YOU BETTER THAN ME!!! YOU'RE JUST THE CHILD OF A MISTRESS!!!!" Sonny screeched. Oh, fuck no. I grabbed Mom's wine glass and threw the wine straight into Sonny's face. She let out a primal wail, stumbling back as the expensive wine dripped down her face and onto her ridiculous dress. "Oh goodness, Jack," Mom chuckled, watching the scene unfold. "HONEY!!!!" Sonny shrieked, wiping furiously at her face. Mom remained calm, completely unfazed. "I don't mind you being jealous, Sonny. I'm used to it. But me and my son can't listen to you insulting our family anymore." "HONEY!!! LOOK WHAT HE DID TO ME!!!! THAT CRAZY BITCH HAD HER SON THROW WINE IN MY FACE!!!" Sonny ignored us completely and ran over to a well-dressed, arrogant-looking man. Oh shit. It was about to go down. I could already tell from his expensive suit and high-and-mighty expression that this guy was trouble. How do I de-escalate a situation? ...Actually,
"When you make your own money, you don't need permission to buy things," Mom said with a vindictive smile, her eyes gleaming as she stared down Sonny. "My son is very good at making money, so I won't tell him how to spend it." Sonny's face twitched. Her breaths came heavier, her jaw clenched so tight I thought her teeth might crack. Then, as if clinging to some last shred of power, Sonny straightened her back and forced a smirk. "The alumni reunion is this Saturday at the Johnson Hotel. Make sure to be there with your husband!" I almost laughed. So this was her plan? She wasn't just going to take the L—she wanted a rematch. She probably thought she could humiliate Mom at the reunion in front of their old classmates. Unfortunately for her, I don't think my mom is a weak person. "Don't worry, my mom will be there," I said, rolling my eyes. "Right, Mom?" "Yeah... right," she said, her tone more amused than anything. "I'll be there." Sonny grinned victoriously, like she'd just trap
I didn't understand it. I really didn't. Even after laying everything out for him—the truth about Debbie, the Roth gang, all the shit they'd pulled—Dad still refused to take action. "You stubborn bastard! I'm warning you! Don't be foolish and focus on your studies!" Dad barked, his voice laced with frustration. "What? Why?" I demanded. It made no sense. We had evidence. We had opportunity. We could take down at least some of them before they ever saw it coming. Why not take the chance? "You think I don't know what you're planning?" Dad scoffed, giving me a sharp glare. "I can already imagine you going around and starting all kinds of trouble. Just thinking about it is already raising my blood pressure!" "Then what about you?" I shot back. "Can you even work with your head banged up like that?" "That's none of your damn concern! I fell—" "You were pushed!" "But I wasn't shot in the head!" he snapped. "Mind your business and go to school, you brat!" I clenched my jaw. He was be
"Name?" the receptionist asked, barely glancing up from his tablet. "Jack Spencer," I replied, trying to steady my nerves. "Name of the inmate you're visiting?" "Deborah Spencer." The receptionist's fingers danced over the screen, his expression indifferent. I tapped my foot impatiently, glancing around. The waiting area was cold and unwelcoming. The walls were a dull gray, and the fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare, emphasizing the grime and wear of the place. The air was thick with a sense of desperation and hopelessness, as if the building itself had absorbed the sorrow of its occupants. "Alright," the receptionist said finally, pointing towards a gate. "Through the gate, then left. You can go in." "Thanks," I muttered, nodding slightly as I walked past him. I entered the visiting room and took a seat, my eyes scanning the room. Most of the visitors were middle-aged men, probably fathers, brothers, or boyfriends. There were a few heavily tattooed women as well, sitting in
Mom's scream tore through the morning silence, jolting the entire house awake. "CALL THE DOCTOR, QUICK!!" My mother's frantic voice rang out, raw with panic and hope. "HONEY!" "Ma'am, please calm down!" "He blinked just now!" "Mr. Spencer! Can you see me?!" the doctor's voice barked, sharp and urgent. I shot up from my bed and ran to the door, peeking inside with my heart hammering against my ribs. "This is a miracle! He's completely woken up from his coma!" Right on time. "He just moved his finger a bit!" Mom sobbed, her hands clutching his arm like she was afraid to let go. I exhaled, stepping away from the scene before anyone could notice me. Slipping back into my room, I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. This was it. This was the moment of truth. Where did Dad's loyalty truly lie? Would he side with me? Or would he choose his beloved little girl? I didn't leave my room that entire day. Doctors rushed in and out of the house, their hushed voices carrying do
The whiskey burned going down, but I barely noticed. The rain hammering against my office window had become a familiar sound to me—one I was beginning to resent. The war with the Vultures had been dragging on for months, and the body count just kept climbing. The cops were breathing down my neck, demanding answers I didn't have. My crew—my family—was all I had left, and I'd fight to the bitter end to keep us on top. But something was wrong. Jobs had gone south, shipments intercepted, safe houses raided like clockwork. Someone was feeding the Vultures intel, and deep down, I already knew who. Eli Roth. My right-hand man. My brother. We'd run this gang together since high school. I wanted to believe he was still the guy who had my back through shootouts, deals gone wrong, and nights when we had nothing but each other and a couple of stolen beers. But everything pointed to him. And soon, I'd have my proof. Not that I wanted it. Tonight, I should've gone to the warehouse to regroup a...
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