Nicolas sat up in his hospital bed, his face pale, his eyes wide with disbelief. His chest still ached from the bullet wound but the pain in his body was nothing compared to the shock coursing through him.

The monitors beside him beeped steadily, tracking his elevated heart rate. His hands were clenched into fists on the thin hospital blanket.

"What do you mean the accounts are frozen?" he shouted into the phone, his voice cracking. "That’s not possible! The Sinclair Group—they were supposed to be our partners! They were supposed to—"

He listened, his jaw tightening. His fingers gripped the phone so hard the plastic creaked.

"Penalties? What penalties? We had a contract! A signed contract! A legally binding agreement! You can’t just—"

He listened again. His face went from pale to white. The blood drained from his cheeks, leaving him looking like a ghost.

"Call Zeke Sinclair. Now. I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care if he’s sleeping. Call him! Tell him it’s urgent! Tell him I need to speak with him immediately!"

He hung up and waited. The minutes ticked by. Each second felt like an hour. He stared at the ceiling, his mind spinning, his heart pounding.

His phone rang.

He grabbed it. "Zeke—"

"Mr. Vale, I’ve tried reaching Mr. Sinclair multiple times," his PA’s voice came through, strained and nervous. "He’s not answering. His office says he’s unavailable. His personal line goes straight to voicemail. I’ve left messages, but—"

Nicolas stared at the phone, his mind racing. His heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the walls closing in around him.

"Try again," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Try again. Now."

"I have, sir. Multiple times. He’s not—"

"TRY AGAIN!"

He threw the phone against the wall.

It shattered, pieces of plastic and glass scattering across the floor. The sound echoed through the room like a gunshot.

His breathing was rapid, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. The monitors beside him started beeping frantically, alerting the nurses to his distress.

"What the heck!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "What the heck is happening?! How did this happen?!"

The door burst open. Two nurses rushed in, their faces stern, their eyes sharp. They moved quickly, checking his vitals, trying to calm him down.

"Mr. Vale, you need to calm down!" one of them said firmly. "You’re disturbing other patients. If you can’t control yourself, we’ll have to sedate you."

Nicolas glared at them, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. His chest heaved with each breath. But he said nothing. He just sat there, his eyes burning with fury.

The nurses watched him for a moment, then turned and left, their footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Nicolas sat in the silence, his chest heaving in anger.

After half an hour, Nicolas heard the door creak open. He didn’t bother looking up, his fists still clenched, his chest still heaving with barely contained rage. His mind was still spinning from the news about the company, the frozen accounts, the crushing penalties.

Nicolas shouted, assuming it was his parents coming to scold him again. "I don’t want to talk to you two! Just leave me alone! I’ve had enough of your lectures! I don’t need to hear how I’ve ruined the family again! I know! I already know!"

"It’s me, Nicolas Vale."

The voice was calm, smooth and completely unexpected.

Nicolas’s head snapped up.

Zeke Sinclair stood in the doorway, his tall frame silhouetted against the harsh hospital lights. He was wearing a royal blue shirt with dark trousers, his glasses glinting in the fluorescent glow. His expression was gentle and friendly but there was something beneath it, something cold and calculating. It was a facade of goodness meant to hide darkness.

Nicolas’s eyes widened, his anger shifting to confusion, then to fury.

Nicolas demanded, his voice shaking with disbelief. "Did you really add traps for me? Was the whole partnership a lie from the start? All those meetings, all those promises, was any of it real? Did you ever intend to work with me?"

Zeke walked toward him slowly, his steps measured and elegant. His eyes fell on the shattered phone on the floor, then returned to Nicolas’s face. He showed no surprise at the broken device, no reaction at all. His face was calm, almost serene.

Zeke said, his voice calm, almost pitying. "I didn’t do it. That contract would have taken you to the sky. It was legitimate. Profitable. Everything you wanted. I was genuinely prepared to work with you. I had plans. Big plans."

Nicolas stared at him, his mind in shambles. "Then why—"

Zeke interrupted, his voice calm. "You offended someone powerful. And I had no choice but to react. The contract is void. The penalties are active. Your company is falling. I’m sorry, Nicolas. Truly. I didn’t want it to end this way."

Nicolas’s voice cracked, bitter and broken. "Sorry? You’re sorry? I’m losing everything because of—because of what!?"

He laughed, a bitter, broken sound that echoed through the room. "Of course. Of course it’s him. That Leonardo bastard, he’s always been the one pulling strings. The mafia connections, the threats, the—"

Zeke’s voice cut through his rant, calm and cold. "You’re wrong."

Nicolas blinked. "What?"

Zeke said, his voice flat. "You offended someone even more powerful. Someone who doesn’t operate in the underworld. Someone who doesn’t need to threaten or manipulate. Someone who has resources you can’t even imagine. Someone who could crush you with a single word."

Nicolas stared at him, his brow furrowed. "I don’t understand. Who could possibly be more powerful than Leo Moretti? He’s untouchable. Everyone knows that. He’s the most feared man in this city. He’s—"

Zeke said, his voice calm. "I looked into the matter. You offended a very powerful royal family. A family that has ruled for centuries. A family that has connections across the globe. A family that doesn’t play games."

Nicolas’s mouth opened and closed. "Royal family? I don’t have anything to do with—I’ve never met any royalty. I’ve never—"