Ochieng's breath hitched. His fingers trembled as he reached for the photograph. Two weeks ago? His parents had been dead for years—or so he had been told.
Lucien Zhao smirked, watching the storm of emotions brewing in Ochieng's dark eyes. "Surprised?"
Ochieng clenched his fists, his mind spinning. He had spent his entire life believing they were gone, buried beneath the ashes of a house fire. But now—this picture, the timestamp, the proof—everything had been a lie.
He exhaled sharply. "Where are they?" His voice was low, dangerous.
Lucien took a slow step forward. "That's the real question, isn't it?" His silver eyes gleamed. "But before I give you answers, you need to prove you deserve them."
Bella's grip on her champagne glass tightened. Yujin, standing near the piano, watched in silence. The Black Lotus Triad members at the VIP section leaned in, interested in the unfolding drama.
Ochieng narrowed his eyes. "You want me to dance like a puppet? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."
Lucien laughed. "Because I hold the strings to a show bigger than you can imagine."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a second photograph.
This one was different.
It wasn't just his parents. It was his parents… standing beside a masked man.
A man Ochieng had seen once before—in his nightmares.
The weight of the moment settled in the air, thick and suffocating. The chandeliers above flickered slightly, as if sensing the shift in fate.
"You see," Lucien continued, stepping closer, "your story isn't just one of revenge or survival. It's a war that started long before you were born."
Ochieng's jaw tightened. "Enough riddles. Who is he?"
Lucien smiled. "The man who started it all."
He leaned in, his breath cold against Ochieng's ear. "The true leader of the Eight Major Provinces."
Silence.
Then a voice echoed from behind them.
"And you, Ochieng, are his only heir."