Kendrick's POV
The morning came far too quickly.
I barely slept after last night as my grandfather's words kept me awake, echoing like a curse carved into my skull.
Power.
Without it, you are nothing. With it, you can have everything.
That was the weight I carried when I opened my eyes at dawn. The old Kendrick, the one who bled for love, who allowed his emotions to drag him into a pit of weakness was gone Or at least, I prayed he was.
What was left was a man who had no choice but to rise.
I pushed myself out of bed, ignoring the ache in my chest that still whispered Christy's name. That ache would always be there but now, I needed to bury it deep.
As I stood in front of the mirror, buttoning my black tailored suit, my reflection was different.
The hollow, broken boy from yesterday was replaced with something colder. My jaw was tight, my eyes sharper, and my aura… heavier. This was the man my grandfather wanted to see.
