Eleanor Prescott stared into the cold fireplace, her teacup untouched on the ornate table beside her. The silence in the study was a heavy, suffocating blanket, a stark contrast to the storm of frustration brewing within her. James paced restlessly before the large windows, his reflection a portrait of barely contained fury.
"What happened?" Eleanor's voice was quiet, but it sliced through the tension like a shard of glass. "One day, Marcus Johnson is practically begging for Sarah's hand, promising alliances and devotion. The next, he arrives at our door, spouting nonsense about respecting marriage vows. It's preposterous. A man that relentlessly pursues a woman for years doesn't simply 'lose interest.'"
James stopped his pacing and turned, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Grandma. It makes no sense. Perhaps he just changed his mind. Or maybe someone offered him a better deal. Whatever the reason, we've lost a significant opportunity. An alliance with the Johnsons would have solidified our position, given us access to their resources. Now, that door is closed." He slammed a fist lightly on the windowpane. "It all traces back to Aaron. I'm sure of it. He must have threatened Marcus somehow."
Eleanor shook her head slowly. "Threatened him with what? Aaron is a nobody, a parasite. Marcus may not be a titan of industry, but he wouldn't be intimidated by a house husband. No, this is something else. The explanation is either far simpler or infinitely more complex than we imagine. Either way, Marcus Johnson is no longer a viable piece on the board. We must find another way."
The sleek private jet touched down on the tarmac with a gentle bump. As the door opened, the thick, humid air of Texas washed over Aaron. He followed Natalie down the steps and into a waiting black sedan, its engine humming quietly. As the car pulled away from the private airstrip, the landscape began to shift from urban sprawl to vast, open plains.
"Mr. Williams had a surprising affinity for agriculture," Natalie commented, her eyes fixed on the tablet in her lap. "He owned several large-scale farms and processing plants throughout this region. He believed that controlling the food supply was a cornerstone of true power." She swiped through a series of files. "Our purpose here is primarily assessment. You need to be seen, introduced as the new owner. It solidifies your authority and prevents the kind of power vacuum that allows for mismanagement, like what happened at Acadia."
Their hotel was a bastion of modern luxury rising from the heart of the city, a stark contrast to the rustic countryside they had driven through. That evening, they sat opposite each other in a private dining room, the city lights twinkling below them.
Aaron took a sip of his water. "Natalie," he began, "what do you do when you're not working?"
She looked up from her menu, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "I am always working, sir," she replied. "If I am not actively engaged in a task, I am either sleeping, eating, or bathing. Efficiency dictates that personal time is a luxury."
"You never just... relax?" Aaron pressed, intrigued. "Watch a movie? Read a book that isn't a financial report?"
"I do not have time to relax, sir," she stated, as if it were an immutable law of physics.
"Are you dating anyone?"
The question hung in the air for a moment. "I do not have time for personal relationships," she said, her tone final, though not unkind.
Seeing the conversational door shut, Aaron shifted gears. "Tell me about the bank. I feel like I was thrown into the deep end. I'm a member of this incredibly powerful organization, but I know almost nothing about it. How do you manage all this power, all this wealth, without the world noticing?"
Natalie set down her menu. "I cannot go into specifics, sir. You are still a new member, and knowledge is granted based on rank and tenure. What I can tell you is that the Eternal Bank is a system that has existed for generations, possibly thousands of years. 'Eternal Bank' is just one of its many names throughout history. The bank operates by embedding itself into the very fabric of society. It's in every significant industry, on every continent."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping. "The bank doesn't just influence politics and business. It controls organized crime, it shapes the media, it curates knowledge. What the public knows, what they believe, what they fear—it is all subject to influence."
"Like a secret society?" Aaron asked, trying to grasp the scale of it.
For the first time since he had met her, a genuine laugh escaped Natalie's lips. It was a brief, surprising sound, like the chime of a crystal bell. "Sir, a secret society doesn't even begin to describe what the bank is. A secret society is a group of men hiding in a basement, plotting. The bank is the basement. It is the house. It is the city. If the bank decided tomorrow that the sky should be green, it would find a way to make it so. If it decided the world's economies should collapse... they would. The power it wields is... absolute."
Aaron sat back, stunned by the revelation. He had known the bank was powerful, but this was something else entirely. It was surreal, the stuff of fiction. He couldn't tell if she was exaggerating, but the chilling certainty in her voice, the matter-of-fact way she spoke of manipulating the world, suggested she was not. His inheritance wasn't just a fortune; it was a piece of a global, invisible empire that held the world in its hands.
The rest of the dinner passed in a thoughtful haze for Aaron. The food was exquisite, but he barely tasted it, his mind grappling with the enormity of what he was a part of.
The next morning, they drove out to the largest of the farms. It stretched to the horizon, a sea of green under the vast Texas sky. A slick, one-story office building stood near the entrance. As they entered, a portly man in a crisp white shirt and a large cowboy hat bustled forward, a wide grin on his face.
"Miss Stirling! A pleasure to see you again!" he boomed, before turning to Aaron and shaking his hand with a vigor that nearly dislocated Aaron's shoulder. "And you must be Mr. Turner! Welcome, welcome! I'm Bill Cassidy, been running this operation for Mr. Williams for twenty years."
Bill gave them a tour in an extended golf cart, zipping past endless fields of crops and massive, high-tech irrigation systems. He reeled off impressive statistics about yields per acre, market share, and logistical efficiency that Aaron mostly nodded along to, not knowing if a single word was true but impressed by the man's passion. Afterward, they were treated to a delicious lunch made with the freshest ingredients Aaron had ever tasted, all sourced directly from the farm.
The next two weeks were a blur of similar visits. They toured different farms, processing plants, and distribution centers across the state. By the end of it, Aaron was exhausted. The sheer scale of his new assets was overwhelming. As they boarded the private jet once more, he felt a deep weariness.
"We've completed the assessment of the domestic agricultural holdings," Natalie informed him as they took their seats. "Tomorrow, we leave for Europe. There are several financial firms in London and Zurich that require your attention."
Aaron sighed, leaning his head back. There was no rest in sight.
Thousands of miles away, Sarah unlocked the massive front door of The King's Castle, the weight of the day pressing down on her. The Crimson Valley project was a behemoth, and leading it was both exhilarating and exhausting. The house was quiet as she entered, the grand foyer echoing her footsteps. She dropped her briefcase on a table and headed toward the living room.
"Look who's finally home," a sharp voice announced.
Sarah frowned. Her uncle, Patrick, and her cousin, Jason, were sitting on the plush sofas, looking far too comfortable. Her mother, Amanda, sat with them, a smug look on her face. "Mom, what are they doing here?" Sarah asked, her voice tired.
"Your family came to visit, Sarah," Amanda said brightly. "Isn't that nice?"
Jason stood up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hello, cousin. It's been a while. It seems you've been doing well for yourself, you've become a very successful woman. We thought we'd come and celebrate your good fortune."
Sarah's exhaustion was instantly replaced by a feeling of dread. This was not a family Visit. This was Trouble.