Something big had shaken up the Northborough business district in the past week.


    The Kensington Group, which had been faltering for years, was bought out-lock, stock, and barrel.


    Insiders whispered that the mastermind behind the acquisition was a mysterious figure known only as Mr. Seven. No one had seen him in Northborough; he''d handed the entire process over to his CEO, Keith Dous, a man as precise as a scalpel.


    With the takeover, Mr. Seven''s name was suddenly on everyone''s lips. In business circles, "Mr. Seven" was spoken with a kind of wary respect, but no one could say anything certain about him. All anyone knew was that he''d started out in the Astara underground market. In just ten years, he''d built an empire that spanned continents, yet not a single soul could im to have seen his face.


    Rumor had it that Mr. Seven had been left with a chronic illness in the early days of his career. Supposedly, he''d been living in seclusion ever since, focusing on his health, and that was why he never appeared in public.


    But that was all hearsay-nothing confirmed.


    Today, the "Kensington Group" was officially being renamed "Everton Holdings."


    Thepany''s headquarters looked brand new, the gleaming "Everton Holdings" sign catching the morning light, dazzling against the city skyline.


    At ten o''clock sharp, Everton Holdings held a press conference to announce its officialunch. Keith Dous, now the acting CEO, took the stage in a crisp ck suit, his handsome faceposed as he addressed the crowd with calm


    authority.


    Below the stage, Mack lurked in the audience, hidden beneath a cap and a surgical mask.


    His re was fixed on Keith, fists clenched so tightly the veins on the backs of his hands stood out in stark relief.


    The Kensington Group was gone. The Kensington family had been erased from the ranks of borough''s old ney dynasties.


    And Mack? He was just another unemployed nobody, with nothing to show for his family name.


    It all traced back to the three-year renewable energy contract that The Kensington Group had signed with The Brown Group.


    If that project had seeded, The Kensington Group-hemorrhaging money for years-might havee back from the dead.


    But fate intervened. Mr. Brown, newly married, died of a sudden heart attack while on a business trip abroad, less than a month after his wedding.


    Ottilie went from bride to widow overnight. The Brown Group was thrown into chaos, and Mr. Brown''s son, Waldo Brown, took the reins.


    Waldo promptly axed the renewable energy project. The Kensington Group''sst hope crumbled, their cashflow snapped, and they were left gasping for air.


    Mack tried to negotiate with Waldo, only to be told that Waldo had already struck a deal with Mr. Seven. By abandoning the renewable energy project, Waldo was essentially flushing all of The Kensington Group''s investment down the drain.


    Waldo didn''t care about the loss. It was a calcted move to destroy the Kensingtons.


    Blinded by rage, Mack grabbed a ss paperweight from his desk and hurled it at Waldo-leaving him with a concussion.


    Waldo pressed charges. Mack was faced with a choice: pay up, or go to jail.


    Madeline thest of the Kensingtons-couldn''t bear the thought of her only son behind bars.


    At first, she tried to use Ottilie. She begged her to plead with Waldo on Mack''s behalf.


    But Ottilie was long since done with the Kensingtons-especially Madeline and Mack.


    Nobody knew it, but Ottilie had already traded sides. She''d seduced Waldo ages ago.


    The world might not know, but Ottilie did: father and son had been at odds for years. She''d started securing her own future the very day she married into the Browns.


    She wasn''t stupid. She knew Mr. Brown had married several times and never fathered any more children. Clearly, he was past his prime.


    With only Waldo as an heir, everything in The Brown Group would eventually be his. All Ottilie had to do was hold on to Waldo.


    Waldo, for his part, was hardly an improvement over his father. He had women everywhere, but he was young, and at least didn''t reek of old age. Ottilie almost enjoyed being with him.


    At the very least, Waldo was generous with his money.


    As for Madeline''s demands? Ottilie ignored herpletely.


    Now, Ottilie lived at Brown Manor, By day, she yed the part of the elegant widow; by night, she shed her airs and became Waldo''s attentive mistress, doing everything she could to please him.


    Whether the Kensington family lived or died didn''t matter to her anymore. Even when her own mother showed up to beg, Ottilie remained unmoved.


    Melody Lynn, shocked by her daughter''s coldness, pped her across the face. "Ottilie! The Kensingtons raised you! How can you just stand by and watch them fall?"


    Ottilie pressed a hand to her cheek, her eyes red but dry. "There''s no one good left in that family. They abandoned me, Mom. And you never once spoke up for me. The Kensingtons didn''t ''raise'' medid you forget? Grandma sold me to


    them for far more than they ever spent on me."


    Melody was stunned.


    "It''s not your fault you didn''t have a son, Mom. And it''s not my fault, either." Ottilie met her mother''s gaze. "If you want to keep living like this, that''s up to you. But don''t drag me down with you. I don''t owe the Kensingtons a thing."