[Halvik]
Godfrey’s chuckles echoed through the meeting room of his mansion. His people—those included in his administration—filled the seats around the table. Soldiers stood in each corner, rifles held at the ready.
"Step down?" he repeated, lifting his gaze toward the person seated at the opposite end of the round table. "Give up Halvik? Haha. I’ve been in this seat for as long as I can remember. Perhaps, I’ve been managing Halvik even before you were born."
He paused. "And now, you are asking me to give up my land and hand you the ownership of what’s mine?"
There, seated calmly, was the only face that didn’t belong in Halvik—or anywhere in Ravah.
Atlas Zorken.
"How presumptuous," Godfrey chuckled maliciously. He raised a hand, and the armed men immediately aimed their weapons at Atlas.
"Mister Atlas Zorken, I admire your bravery for coming here alone," he said. "However, bravery and foolishness share one tiny fine line in the middle. Foolishness fits you better. After all, you cannot walk into my territory alone, demand that I step down, then spew a bunch of nonsense, and expect to leave unscathed."
He laughed again, malice oozing from his eyes. "Even if you brought an army to Halvik, it’s a mistake not to bring even one man in here. I wouldn’t say you underestimated me—rather, you overestimated yourself."
Atlas studied the old man quietly, unfazed by what he had expected from Godfrey: proud, selfish, nonsense.
"Halvik is mine," Godfrey added with finality. "You wanted New Gehran, then so be it. But you are not touching Halvik, unless you want to go to war with me and—"
BANG!
Before Godfrey could finish, a deafening gunshot rang through the room. Even the soldiers aiming at Atlas flinched. The men seated at the table gasped in horror as Godfrey’s body slumped sideways over the armrest with a clean hole now lodged in his temple.
"Put down your weapons."
A woman’s voice cut through the stunned silence.
All eyes shifted to the source.
There, seated closest to Godfrey was his first wife—the former governor’s widow—holding a small pistol. Thin smoke curled from its muzzle, her expression cold despite having just blown her husband’s head off.
She placed the gun down, pulled out a delicate handkerchief, and calmly wiped the blood that had splattered onto her skin. When she lifted her eyes toward the soldiers, they cleared their throats and lowered their rifles without protest.
"According to Halvik’s law," she said evenly, snapping everyone back to attention, "if the governor fails to name a successor in his will, his first legal wife assumes the position until she appoints the next in line."
"From this moment on, I am the governor," the woman in her early sixties announced. "If anyone wishes to object, you may state your case."
Silence followed her calm voice as the men exchanged stunned glances, but none spoke. It wasn’t surprising. Though they were part of Halvik’s governance in name, none of them truly mattered.
Whatever Godfrey said went.
They could offer suggestions, but opposition was never allowed. They were puppets—nothing more. Godfrey had wanted absolute power and tolerated no dissent. And since what the madam had said aligned with their protocol, they nodded.
Seeing no objections, the new governess turned her full attention to Atlas.
"And what do we gain if I step down?" she asked. "Ravah has always been divided into three regions, ruled by three governors. Remove one, and the balance collapses."
"Assuming you win this war against New Gehran, why should I side with a man I’ve never spoken to, instead of joining Ashkar in fighting you?"
"Have you ever spoken to the governor of Ashkar before, Governess?" Atlas replied calmly, unfazed by the corpse across from him.
The question earned him a long silence before she chuckled.
Force when necessary.
And no was not an answer Atlas would accept.
The letter was short: Stay on the line.
As he spoke, Slater’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
"First Brother."
Atlas’s brows twitched at the tone. He lifted a hand and pressed the device. "What is it?"
Slater didn’t answer immediately until...
"He’s gone," Slater said.
Atlas frowned, and Slater quickly clarified, "The governor of Ashkar... he’s gone."
*****
[Ashkar]
Slater stood inside a bedroom—specifically, the bedroom where the governor of Ashkar was supposed to be.
Of all the unsettling discoveries made during the raid, this one took the crown.
"He’s gone," Slater whispered into his earpiece, eyes fixed on the bed. "The governor of Ashkar... he’s gone."
He didn’t mean the man had escaped. What he meant was... what lay on the bed was a skeleton.
A human skeleton.
With a hole drilled clean through its skull.

Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: The Billionaire Twins Need A New Mommy!