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Chapter 5 – Part 3
The air in the Elizur mansion had grown heavier after Abigail's confession.
Her voice trembled when she said the words "I still love you, Damian" but to him, they felt like knives. Love? From the same lips that once promised him eternity but ended up marrying his father? From the same hands that once clung to him but now carried a son not of his blood but of Jacob's?
He had no strength for this. No desire to entertain her sudden surge of emotions.
Damian step out of his study room and walk out throw the hall way not wanting not wanting to see Abigail.
Outside, the mansion gates stood open, and the familiar black sedan waited. Behind the wheel was the same driver who had picked him up on the day of his release from prison. The man quickly stepped out, bowing his head respectfully before opening the rear door.
"Good morning, sir," the driver greeted softly.
Damian gave him a nod and slid into the car, leaning back into the leather seat. The car door shut with a solid thud, cutting off Abigail's faint cries that still floated from inside the mansion.
As the car pulled out, Damian's eyes narrowed, fixed on the horizon, but his mind… his mind wandered to the company that awaited him: Stork Firm.
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Stork Firm was not just a company it was more than that, it was an empire.
It wasn't only a skyscraper but a living monument that defined the power and legacy of the Elizur family. The headquarters towered above the city like a steel giant, its mirrored walls reflecting the sky, the clouds, the entire world beneath its feet. From afar, it looked like a throne built of glass and ambition.
Generations of Elizurs had poured sweat, blood, and brilliance into it, and Damian had grown up hearing only one lesson: "For us, Stork Firm is everything. To lead it is not a privilege—it is destiny."
As the car drew closer, the sight of the building pulled at old memories like a magnet.
Damian could already see the crowd gathered outside—reporters with microphones, flashing cameras, murmuring journalists hungry for a headline. Security men in black suits formed a solid wall, holding the buzzing crowd at bay. The anticipation was thick in the air.
Everyone was waiting. Waiting for Mr. Jacob Elizur to step forward and make the big announcement.
Some whispered it would be about a new expansion. Others guessed it was about a merger. But the truth, only the family knew: the announcement had been reserved for the day Damian would finally be free.
"Sir," the driver said carefully, "we here, there are lots of reporters, should i step out first and alarm the guards that's it's you, so that they restrict them. With a smile on his face deman replied the kind gesture "don't worry yourself i be fine, it's has always been like this at stock firm" "your name was sam right?" With a bow he replied "yes sir, you can call me that sir" "okay then, Sam see you around"
Damian's gaze hardened as he watched through the tinted glass. He could see microphones already being raised toward the car, journalists surging forward the moment the vehicle slowed.
The sedan stopped in front of the main entrance, and instantly, the air exploded with voices.
"Damian! Damian Elizur, is it true you've returned to take over?"
"What happened between you and Mr. Jacob during your prison years?"
"Is it true there's tension in the family?"
The security men stepped in immediately, pushing the reporters back. Cameras flashed in blinding bursts, but Damian didn't flinch. He stepped out of the car with the same composure he had learned from his father and from his mother.
The Elizur stride. Calm. Controlled. Untouchable.
For a moment, he froze at the steps leading inside. His eyes locked on the silver emblem of Stork Firm above the grand glass doors. The logo gleamed under the sun, a golden phoenix spreading its wings.
His mother's voice echoed in
"Damian, this firm is not just business—it is family. It is the fire we pass from one generation to the next. And you… you are born to carry it."
He remembered her hand resting on his shoulder when he was only ten, standing on this very step. He remembered her perfume, her smile, her words.
Damian inhaled deeply, squaring his shoulders. He could almost feel her presence with him, as though she was watching from the glass walls themselves.
Without another glance at the clamoring reporters, Damian walked into the building, the doors shutting firmly behind him, muting the chaos outside.
---
Back across the city, Menalla was living her own chaos.
As she payed the driver with a smile on her face she turn to continue her journey but just then she heard a familiar voice calling her name
"Menella" she recognized it at once it was Carlous, he step forward and stood before her, his voice desperate.
"Menalla," he said, and to her shock, he fell to his knees on the pavement. "Please… listen to me. I was wrong. I made a mistake."
People were starting to stare, but Carlous didn't care. His hands were clasped together, his eyes begging.
Menalla said nothing, she just stood still like a statue
"You think i left you because i didn't cracked.
Before he could reach for her hand, another figure appeared—Rosemary, one of Menalla's closest friends and colleagues. She rushed forward, slipping between them like a shield.
"Menalla doesn't need this," Rosemary snapped, glaring at Carlous. "You had your chance, and you threw it away. Don't you dare drag her down with your regrets."
Menalla's eyes softened in gratitude as Rosemary blocked him. "What are you doing here Carlous, you should with your wife, go to her" Without another word, she turned and walked toward the firm's entrance, her heels striking the pavement with quiet defiance.
Carlous called after her, but she didn't look back.
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Menalla entering the office, Rosemary comforting her, and they dive into their workload.
The growing contrast between her small firm struggles and Damian's grand entrance at Stork Firm.
A final foreshadowing: both Damian's and Menalla's paths are heading toward collision.