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... themselves as hundreds of pairs of eyes focused on the silver-haired patriarch descending the grand staircase. This wasn’t just any old man—this was the last of the old guard, the final remnant of a generation that had built these empires from blood, ambition, and sheer fucking will.

Diana Beaumont straightened unconsciously, her thirty-one-year-old frame carrying itself with the kind of respect she rarely showed anyone. The old man had been her father’s contemporary, one of the few peo ...

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