True to Mark’s assurance, the rest of the journey to Brookville was smooth. The sun hung high in the sky, its warm light spilling across the highway as they cruised along smoothly.

The earlier tension seemed to have dissipated, replaced by an almost serene silence in the car.

Jessica looked out the window and saw the city change to open fields and forests. The sound of the engine and the tires on the road was calming.

Jordan, wanting to talk, finally broke the silence. “This is boring,” he said as he leaned back. “After all that excitement, I expected something more dramatic.”

Mark, his focus on the road, smirked faintly. “Be grateful it’s boring. That means they have truly called off the chase.”

Jessica exhaled deeply, her grip on her bag finally loosening. “After everything that happened earlier, I’ll take boring over terrifying any day.”

Ethan, seated beside her, gave a small nod. His face showed that he was deep in thought as if he was still working through what had happened during the day.

“Mark,” he said after a moment, “if they have stepped back, do you think this is over? Or are we just… in the eye of the storm?”

Mark gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment before letting it go.

“The latter,” he replied, his tone even. “People like the LaRues don’t just give up. They retreat to regroup. This isn’t over.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press further. He already suspected as much. The LaRues’ influence was greater than he had imagined, and it was clear they weren’t the type to forgive or forget easily.

Jordan shifted in his seat, his cheerful tone a bit forced. “Well, if they’re regrouping, that means we’ve got some breathing room, right? Let’s not waste it by stressing ourselves out.”

Jessica managed a small smile. “For once, I agree with you, Jordan. I think we all need a break.”

The car fell quiet again, the rolling landscape outside gradually transitioning into the outskirts of Brookville.

The small town had a simple and calm feel that was very different from the chaos they had left behind.

Neatly kept-houses lined the streets, and small businesses with friendly signs filled the town center.

Mark slowed down the car as they reached the main intersection.

“We’re almost there,” he said. He looked at Jessica through the rearview mirror. She seemed excited.

Mark then asked, “Where should I go now, Mrs. Moore?”

Jessica quickly unlocked her phone and pulled up the directions. “It’s just a few minutes from here. Turn right at the next light.”

She then added, "By the way, please call me Jessica. It feels weird when I'm the only one you addressed that way."

Mark nodded and followed her instructions, navigating the quieter streets with ease. As they passed through the heart of the town, Jordan looked around with mild curiosity.

“Nice place,” he remarked. “It’s got that whole small-town charm thing going on.”

Jessica smiled, her expression softening. “It’s home. Well, it was, anyway.”

Ethan, noticing the warmth in her voice, glanced at her. “It must feel good to be back.”

She nodded. “It does. It’s a mix of feelings. There are many memories here—some are good, and some... are not so good.”

The car turned onto a smaller residential street. The houses were now spaced farther apart.

Jessica leaned forward slightly, pointing ahead. “That’s the one. The white house with the red mailbox.”

Mark slowed the car as he entered the driveway. The house was simple but tidy. A small garden was in front, and a medium-sized garage was at the side. The porch looked inviting under the shade of a big tree.

When the car stopped, Jessica paused before taking off her seatbelt. She looked at the others and smiled. “Thank you, everyone. I don't know how I would have made it through today without you.”

Ethan smiled back. “You don’t have to thank us, Jessica. We’re friends.”

Jordan smiled and gave her a thumbs-up. “Yeah. That's what friends are for.”

Mark didn’t say anything, but he nodded slightly to show his support, and his expression became softer.

Jessica opened the door and stepped outside. She looked back at the group. “Please come in. My mom would love to meet you all.”

"I told her that you guys are here. She had prepared a feast," Jessica continued with a chuckle.

Jordan smiled. “Really? I’d love some. I’m starving.”

Everyone laughed at Jordan's antics. Mark glanced at Ethan, waiting for a signal. Ethan nodded, and they all headed into the house.

***

The LaRue family’s main meeting room had a strong feeling of authority. A large, dark wooden table filled the space, shining like a mirror.

Around the table sat the Twelve Elders, experienced leaders and advisors who helped the LaRue family maintain its status as one of the Great Families.

At the head of the table sat the Head of the family, Victor LaRue. His presence was as commanding as the room itself.

He scanned the gathered Elders with his sharp blue eyes. His expression was difficult to read, but he seemed cold and intimidating.

The room was quiet.

An Elder, an older man with a worn face and sharp gray eyes, spoke up. His tone was calm but showed his frustration. “We need to address a pressing issue concerning the younger generation. Specifically… Lucien.”

The tension in the room increased, and several Elders shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

The gray-eyed Elder continued, his voice steady but firm. “Blocking a major highway, bribing the police, cutting off surveillance systems—all of this just to kidnap a single girl?"

Most of the Elders agreed with what was said. They nodded in response.

Seeing the majority was on his side, the Elder added, "It’s reckless. It’s wasteful. And worse, it’s making our presence far too visible.”

Another Elder, a stern woman with her hair tied back in a severe bun, leaned forward, her voice sharp. “We are the LaRue family. A Great Family."

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She paused before adding, "We are supposed to operate from the shadows, unseen and untouchable. But this… this shithead has been flaunting our influence like a child showing off his toys!”

The words filled the room, feeling heavy and threatening. She could say this because she was one of the most powerful members of the LaRue.

Even though she was not the Head, every Elder here had equal power or was not far below the leader.

Victor narrowed his eyes, and the room felt colder. His voice, sharp and cold, cut through the silence. “Shithead? Who are you calling that, Bianca? My son?”

The room fell deathly silent. Every Elder could feel the icy pressure emanating from Victor, a cold aura that seemed to press down on their very souls.

Bianca maintained her calm, and she fixed her gaze on Victor. The only reason for her not to be able to take the Head's position was during their time, they would not allow a woman to lead the family.

Another Elder, a composed man with a calm demeanor and a thin mustache, raised his hand slightly, his voice measured and conciliatory. “Let us not dwell on words, Victor... Bianca."

He made sure everyone was at ease before continuing, "The young master’s actions may have been… unconventional, but we should not let this incident divide us.”

Victor’s gaze shifted to him, and the tension in the room eased ever so slightly. The Elder continued, his tone steady. “Besides, we need to accept that the younger generation operates differently than we did."

Bianca then interjected, "Then, we should allow for them to let the world know of who we are, Agustin?"

Agustin smiled. He knew that would come to him. "They are bolder and more willing to take risks. Perhaps this is simply the way things are now. We should focus on monitoring their actions and ensuring they do not jeopardize the family’s strength.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Another Elder, a heavyset man with a deep voice, nodded. “He has a point. The five main heirs have all shown exceptional potential. Each of them has carved a path forward, and their progress is undeniable. As long as our strength remains intact, these incidents are manageable.”

Victor leaned back in his chair, his piercing gaze sweeping across the table. His cold aura receded slightly, though his expression remained severe. “Fine. Let them be,” he said finally, his tone like frost on steel. “But I won't tolerate Lucien's action, too. We cannot afford to let recklessness tarnish the LaRue name.”

The Elders nodded in unison, their earlier dissent now tempered by Victor’s authority.

The meeting moved on to other matters, but the weight of the conversation lingered in the air, a reminder of the delicate balance between power and restraint that the LaRue family had mastered for generations.

Victor, his mind sharp and calculating, made a silent note to address Lucien’s behavior personally.

For now, appearances had been preserved, but the Head of the LaRue family would not tolerate carelessness—not even from his own blood.

'I'll let him handle Lucien,' Victor decided.

In another room within the LaRue estate, five figures sat around a smaller but no less grand table. The atmosphere was tense, with each person seated carrying an air of power and pride that befitted their status as heirs to the LaRue legacy.

These were the Five Main Heirs, the next generation groomed to maintain the family’s grip over Novan City and the state of Arkansa.

Lucien LaRue, the third son, leaned back in his chair. His golden hair fell around his face. He smiled casually while swirling a glass of wine in his hand.

Across from him sat Leonard, the eldest son. His chiseled features showed a stern expression. His piercing gray eyes bore into Lucien with a mix of anger and disappointment.

“You’re a fool, Lucien,” Leonard began, his voice cold but steady. “But, blocking highways, bribing officials, and cutting surveillance just to chase a woman? That's what a fool do!"

He took a deep and steady breath. "Do you have any idea how much damage had you done to the family? We're a Great Family. We controlled everything from the shadow. Not parading our influence like this."

Lucien shrugged lazily, taking a slow sip of his wine. “Oh, come on, Leonard. You act as if I’ve burned the family name to the ground. It’s one incident.”

“It’s not just one incident,” came the sharp voice of Liana, the second daughter. Her eyes, the same icy blue as their father’s, glared at Lucien. “You have been careless before, but this time, you have gone too far. Do you understand what you did? You are the reason people are starting to connect the dots and realize that the LaRues are more than just a rich family.”

Lucien snorted, leaning forward with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “So what? Let them know. Who cares if they start whispering about us? It’s not like anyone can touch us. We have that power.”

Liana’s fist slammed onto the table, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You idiot!"

The others did not choose to calm her.

Liana added, "The more people know, the more they’ll try to dig into our affairs. You think the LaRue Family’s power is unshakable? Think again. Even the greatest empires have fallen because of arrogance.”

A tense silence followed her words. The other heirs exchanged uneasy glances. Leona, the youngest daughter and the most reserved of the five looked down, her expression troubled but quiet.

The second son, Luther, finally broke the silence, his voice calm but laced with frustration. “Liana is right, Lucien. You’ve jeopardized everything we’ve built. The Great Families thrive on mystery. You’re turning us into a spectacle.”

Lucien leaned back again, his smirk returning. “Oh, please. You’re all so dramatic. If any of you have a problem with me, why not settle it the LaRue way? Or do none of you dare to go against me?”

The tension in the room skyrocketed, each heir stiffening at Lucien’s challenge. Leonard’s jaw clenched, and Liana’s eyes burned with fury. Before anyone could respond, the heavy double doors at the back of the room swung open.

A tall figure stepped in, his presence commanding the room instantly. Alexander LaRue. He carried an aura that outshone even the five main heirs.

His dark hair was neatly styled, and his sharp green eyes gleamed with quiet intensity. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, and every step he took exuded poise and authority.

“Enough,” Alexander said, his voice smooth but firm. It wasn’t loud, but it silenced the room nonetheless.

Lucien’s smirk faltered for the first time, though he quickly masked it with a casual shrug. “Well, if it isn’t Alexander. Come to play the perfect son and lecture me too?”

Alexander’s gaze pinned Lucien in place, his calm yet piercing expression carrying more weight than any reprimand. “Lucien, your arrogance is not strength. It’s a weakness. And weakness is something this family cannot afford.”

Lucien’s fingers tightened around his wine glass, but he said nothing. The other heirs watched silently, knowing that Alexander’s words carried a gravity none of them could deny.

Alexander turned his attention to the group, his tone measured but commanding. “The LaRue name is not just a shield; it’s a weapon. But even the sharpest blade can break if wielded recklessly. Remember that.”

The room was silent after Alexander spoke. His words reminded everyone of the heavy burdens they carried as part of the LaRue family.

Lucien pushed his chair back, making a loud noise, and stood up. His golden hair caught the light as he faced Alexander. His usual smirk was gone. He now had a look of pure disdain.

"Do you think you are better than me?" Lucien asked, his voice filled with anger. “Someone needs to teach you a lesson, Alexander. Realize this—you’re just an adopted son of Father. Nothing more.”

The words hung heavy in the room. The other heirs exchanged tense glances, their unease palpable. Leona shifted uncomfortably in her seat while Liana’s lips pressed into a tight line. Leonard’s jaw clenched, his gray eyes narrowing at Lucien’s recklessness.

Alexander, however, remained calm. He had heard it all before. The constant reminders of his place, the barbs aimed at his background—it was nothing new. He took a slow breath, his posture unwavering.

“Believe what you want, Lucien,” Alexander said, his voice steady. “But know this—your father ordered me to handle you, and I intend to do just that.”

The room froze. Lucien’s smirk twitched, his arrogance dimmed by the weight of Alexander’s words.

Luther, sitting back with a faint smirk of his own, broke the silence. “Let him, Liana,” he said, his tone almost amused. “Let Lucien show us how far he can go.”

Lucien ignored the warnings, his anger mounting. He set down his glass of wine with a deliberate clink and stretched his shoulders. His movements were slow and calculated, and his sneer grew as he turned back to Alexander.

“You think you can handle me?” Lucien spat, his voice low but venomous. “Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Without waiting, he raised his fist, his body tense with the intent to strike. But before his punch could even move forward, Alexander was already behind him. He quickly reached out and grabbed Lucien's wrist tightly.

Lucien’s eyes grew wide, and he struggled to breathe as he felt Alexander’s strong grip. The room went completely silent.

Alexander leaned in close, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “If your father had ordered me to kill you, you’d already be dead—three hundred times over by now.”

Lucien froze. The weight of Alexander’s words felt like a dagger pressed against his throat.

“But you’re lucky,” Alexander continued, his tone eerily calm. “Your father only ordered me to monitor you. So don’t make me regret my mercy.”

Alexander let go of Lucien’s fist; the motion was as smooth as it was controlled.

Lucien staggered back a step, his face a mix of rage and humiliation. He adjusted his shirt, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to maintain his composure.

Gritting his teeth, he looked at Alexander with cold fury. “Good. Good for you,” he said, his voice dripping with bitterness. He took a step back, his sneer returning as he turned to leave. “Be my dog then. That suits you.”

Lucien strode out of the room without another word, his presence like a storm receding into the distance.

The other heirs remained silent, their gazes shifting between Alexander and the door where Lucien had disappeared. For a moment, no one spoke the tension in the room as sharp as a blade.