"They were about to," I replied to Jordan, maintaining myposure despite the tension in the air. "Your timing is impable."


    Jordan Lancaster''s face darkened as he turned to face his men, particrly focusing on Tristan who still cradled his dislocated arm.


    "Which one of you idiots thought it would be a good idea to threaten Mr. Knight?" His voice carried the sharp edge of authority that had built his real estate empire.


    Gold Chain stepped forward hesitantly. "Sir, Tristan said—"


    "I don''t care what Tristan said!" Jordan''s voice thundered through the restaurant. "Mr. Knight is not just ''some nobody.'' He''s a personal friend and the physician who saved my daughter''s life when every doctor in Havenwood City gave up on her."


    The color drained from Tristan''s face as realization dawned on him. His eyes darted between Jordan and me, disbelief etched across his features.


    "But—but he broke my arm!" Tristan protested weakly.


    I shook my head. "Dislocated. There''s a difference."


    Jordan red at Tristan. "Consider yourself fired. Clear out your desk tomorrow."


    "Mr. Lancaster, please," Tristan begged, his arrogance suddenly evaporating. "I''ve been with thepany for three years. I didn''t know—"


    "That''s precisely the problem. You didn''t know, and you didn''t bother to find out before acting." Jordan dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Pack your things and leave. The rest of you, back to the dining room. Now."


    The men filed out quickly, leaving just Jordan, Tristan, and me. Tristan shot me onest venomous look before limping toward the exit.


    "Mr. Knight," Jordan said, turning to me with an apologetic expression, "I cannot express how sorry I am for this incident. Please, join us upstairs. It would be an honor to have you dine with us."


    I considered the invitation. "Thank you, but I was expecting a quiet meal."


    "I insist," Jordan pressed. "My wife would be devastated to learn you were here and we didn''t have the chance to properly thank you."


    There was more than gratitude in his eyes—there was calction. A man like Jordan Lancaster didn''t be sessful without recognizing valuable connections. And now, he clearly saw me as one.


    "Very well," I agreed.


    The private dining room upstairs was elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Havenwood City''s glittering skyline. Jordan''s wife, Evelyn Norton, rose to greet me, her eyes bright with recognition.


    "Dr. Knight," she said, sping my hands in hers. "Our Lily talks about you constantly. She calls you her guardian angel."


    I smiled politely. "I just did what anyone with my skills would have done."


    "But that''s just it," Jordan interjected, gesturing for me to take a seat. "No one else has your skills. Three specialists told us her condition was terminal."


    Evelyn nodded, her eyes growing misty. "Six weeks, they said. And now she''s back in school, ying with her friends..."


    The conversation flowed easily after that. Jordan was careful not to pry into my background, but I could sense his curiosity. He mentioned business connections, spoke of friends in high ces—all subtle ways of offering his support without directly asking what I needed.


    As dessert was served, Jordan finally broached the subject that had been on his mind.


    "Mr. Knight, my father suffers from severe arthritis. The doctors say it''s inoperable, but after what you did for Lily..." He hesitated. "Would you consider examining him?"


    I took a sip of water. "I make no promises, but I''ll see what I can do."


    Relief washed over his face. "Thank you. That''s all I ask."


    The evening concluded with polite goodbyes and promises to stay in touch. As we parted, Jordan gripped my hand firmly.


    "If you ever need anything—anything at all—please don''t hesitate to call."


    I nodded, knowing full well that such offers often came with invisible strings attached. But connections like these could prove useful in the storm I knew wasing.


    The next morning, I made my way to the Ashworth Family residence. The opulent mansion stood as a testament to generations of wealth and influence. Guards positioned throughout the property watched me with suspicious eyes as a servant led me to the garden.


    Michael Ashworth sat before an ornate chess table, the morning sunlight casting long shadows across the marble pieces. His once-imposing frame had withered, and his skin hung loose on his bones. The patriarch of the Ashworth family was dying.


    "You''rete," he said without looking up.


    "My apologies," I replied, taking the seat across from him.


    He gestured to the board. "White moves first."


    I studied the position. This wasn''t just a game—it was an assessment. I moved a pawn, initiating a conservative opening.


    Michael''s response was immediate and aggressive, sacrificing a knight for position. His strategy was clear: overwhelm me with a direct assault.


    We yed in silence, the only sound the gentle click of pieces against the marble board. With each move, I built a defensive wall, absorbing his attacks and waiting for my moment.


    "You''re ying too cautiously," Michael remarked after thirty minutes. "A man who fears losing will never truly win."


    I captured his bishop. "Sometimes patience is mistaken for fear." <dfn ss="meta-ref-static">Sample from My Virtual Library Empire—read more on M&VLEMPY&R.</dfn>


    His eyes narrowed. "And sometimes patience is just an excuse for inaction."


    The game continued, his attacks growing more desperate as my position solidified. When I finallyunched my counteroffensive, it was devastating. Three movester, his king was trapped.


    "Checkmate," I said quietly.


    Michael stared at the board, then looked up at me with new respect in his eyes. "Again."


    We yed three more games. Each time, his opening was more aggressive, and each time, my patient defense prevailed. After the final game, he sat back, studying me intently.


    "You''re not what I expected," he said finally.


    "What did you expect?"


    "A brash young upstart. Someone who''d sweep in, make grand gestures, and ultimately fail." His weathered hands arranged the pieces back in their starting positions. "Instead, I find a man who understands that true power lies in ousting your opponent."


    I remained silent, waiting for him to continue.


    "I''m dying," he stated matter-of-factly. "The doctors give me three months. I suspect it''s less."


    "I''m sorry to hear that."


    He waved away my condolence. "Don''t be. I''ve lived a full life. But my departure leaves certain...plications."


    I knew what he meant. Corbin Ashworth, his nephew, had been maneuvering to seize control of the family business for years. With Michael gone, Isabelle would stand alone against her uncle''s ambitions.


    "Why did you ask me here?" I asked directly.


    Michael''s gaze was prating. "Because I need to know what kind of man you are before I die. The games told me something, but not everything."


    He reached for a ss of water, his hand trembling slightly. "I''ve watched you climb from nothing to something in a remarkably short time. Impressive. But your connection to my granddaughterplicates matters."


    My jaw tightened. "My feelings for Isabelle are my own concern."


    "No," he said sharply. "They are my concern as long as I draw breath. Isabelle is thest of my direct bloodline. Her future—and by extension, the future of this family—matters more than you can possibly understand."


    He leaned forward, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "I''m going to offer you a choice, Mr. Knight. One that will determine not only your fate but Isabelle''s as well."


    The air between us seemed to grow heavy with the weight of his words.


    "The first option is this: Walk away from Isabelle. In return, I will provide you with resources beyond your imagination—money, connections, opportunities. Enough to build your own empire. Once you''re truly her equal in wealth and status, you can pursue her again if you wish."


    I started to speak, but he held up a hand to silence me.


    "The second option..." His eyes hardened. "Stay with her now, and face thebined wrath of the Ashworth and ckthorne families as enemies. When I die—and it will be soon—there will be no one to temper Corbin''s hatred for you. He will crush you without mercy, and Isabelle will suffer for her association with you."


    My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept my expression neutral. "Those are my only choices?"


    Michael Ashworth''s lips curved into a cold smile. "Make no mistake, Mr. Knight. If you choose the second path, they will kill you. And they will drag Isabelle down with you."