The skyline of Dubai shimmered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the golden glow of the city mirroring the extravagance inside. The air was thick with the scent of cologne, power, and expensive wine, even though alcohol was prohibited in Dubai. The Magual family, known for their relentless ambition in the smartphone industry, had pulled every string to host a party where the wealthiest names on the planet gathered.

Among them stood Dr. Xerxes Darius Vortigern, the phantom king of the oil industry, a man whose mere presence turned billionaires into silent spectators. He stood near the balcony, a glass of water in his hand, his golden eyes surveying the room like a beast among lambs. He did not drink—not because he followed rules, but because he saw no pleasure in dulling his senses.

Then he noticed it—a waiter being pulled aside by Nakinjenson Jakinbird Magual, the spoiled son of a tech empire, a man-child drowning in privilege, laughing as he dragged them away. Nobody noticed. Nobody cared. Except Xerxes.

He set his glass down, adjusting the cuff of his hand-stitched black suit, and moved. Silent. Purposeful. A shadow in the night. The private suite door stood slightly ajar. Xerxes slipped inside like a snake entering its den.

The sight before him was vile. Nakinjenson—fully naked, his body flushed with alcohol and unchecked entitlement. The waiter, half-undressed, their uniform pulled apart, wine staining their lips, collapsed against the silk sheets. Unconscious. Xerxes' grip on the doorknob tightened, the metal groaning beneath his fingers.