Heartbreak Brings Mr. Right

“Kent Walsh was all-in, taking the biggest hits in the price war and securing enormous projects.

He’s lost everything.

His firm was bleeding money for ages, camouflaging its woes from the world.

He meant to use this chance to pivot, not foreseeing he’d be drowning in hundreds of billions worth of debt.

They found him at his home today.

He’d taken his life.

It seems the burden was too great to shoulder,” Arturo conveyed the grim analysis.

Dominic’s expression darkened, a wry smile briefly crossing his Lips.

His uncle Kent, Jordan’s youngest, was no stranger to opulence and arrogance, shielded by family influence.

A smooth sailor all his life, this tempest was more than he could weather.

Dominic lit a cigarette, the ember’s glow veiling his face.

As he contemplated the swirling smoke, his voice broke the silence again.

“Did he sign the share transfer agreement?”

Arturo gave a confirming nod.

Handling the minutiae was never beneath him.

He retrieved the share transfer document from his briefcase, placing it before Dominic.

The stark red of a fingerprint marred its surface, causing a visible shiver to pass through Arturo at the sight.

The memory alone made his hands clench instinctively, his whole frame quaking slightly.

Arturo had been to Kent’s opulent home with the intention of discussing the agreement.

What met them was a scene of despair—Kent had ended his life.

The sheer shock of it had Arturo recoiling, retreating several paces from the threshold.

Dominic’s crew, unmoved by the grim tableau, efficiently detached the body from its suspension, their actions mechanical.

In a chilling act of practicality, they had forced Kent’s lifeless hand to mark the document.

Now, looking over at Dominic, who reclined unperturbed, Arturo’s respect mingled with unease.

There sat a man unfazed, his composure as steadfast as his victory seemed certain.

For Arturo, this was an initiation into the harsh realm of corporate battles.

Though he bore the title of leader within the Yates family, the true matriarch had always been his mother, Miranda.

The family’s internal struggles had scarred her, both metaphorically and physically-a fact Arturo had never fully grasped until now.

He had ascended to his position on the coattails of his mother’s triumphs, wielding power with what he believed was a just hand, yet guilt crept in upon reflection.

‘s BunnyBookery

Dominic shared Miranda’s resilience.NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

Both seemed to have an inexorable will, unyielding and daunting.

Dominic’s reaction to the tragic news of his uncle’s death was proof enough-a stoic demeanor, solely focused on the completion of the share transfer, devoid of warmth.

Once he had meticulously reviewed the document and found it in order, Dominic inquired, “What’s the status of my uncle Herbert?”

Arturo responded, “I’ve put someone on him.

Now, what’s the next step? Are you planning to take him down or-“

As Dominic released a final stream of smoke, he extinguished his cigarette with a deliberate tap against the desk, leaving a searing mark upon the wood-a silent testament to the day’s events.

Arturo understood the unspoken message.

He looked up once more to find Dominic already on his feet, donning his coat.

“I’ll deal with him myself,” declared Dominic.

In a solitary ward within a hospital, a soft glow cast upon the girl’s pallid, bloodless countenance.

As though blinded by the light, her long lashes quivered involuntarily, and soon, her eyes fluttered open a fraction.

Lindsey had been ensnared in a coma for an eternity it seemed.

When she suddenly roused, agony coursed through every fiber of her being.

It felt as though her joints had weathered a battering, with a myriad of needles relentlessly piercing her skull.

Her mind swirled in a dizzying whirlwind.

Desiring movement, Lindsey attempted to shift, only to discover her hand tethered to an IV drip.

Raising her hand, she felt the gauze around her forehead.

Casting a sidelong glance, she caught sight of Nancy slumped over the bed’s edge.

Though seemingly asleep, Nancy’s rest was fitful, her brow knitted with worry.

“Nancy, Nancy…” Lindsey’s voice was gentle.