The following morning in the Martin mansion felt strangely tense, as if the air itself carried a warning. The staff spoke in whispers, avoiding eye contact with David, who had returned home just before dawn. His face was pale, eyes bloodshot, his usual arrogance replaced with something colder — a quiet, dangerous determination.
He walked straight to his father’s private office and locked the door. For hours, no one saw him.
Inside, David sat behind the massive oak desk, going through company documents with trembling hands. He looked over the asset register — land holdings, shares, luxury vehicles, foreign accounts — all marked with his father’s signature and authority.
“Everything he owns… everything that should be mine,” David murmured bitterly.
He tapped his fingers on the table, a p
