Eric's family

William tried to control his rapid heartbeat and walked slowly toward the car. His face was marked with tension and fear. He quickly sat in the front seat and started the engine. Meanwhile, Eric had also settled into his seat comfortably, but there was a strange gleam in his eyes— as if he had already achieved what he wanted.

Elena noticed the change in both of them and felt uneasy. When they had left, William had been curious, but now he looked shaken. On the other hand, Eric's face radiated confidence, as if he had just won a game. Elena immediately realized that Eric had made William do something that could shake anyone to the core. But she wanted to stay cautious around Eric, so she remained silent. She knew she had her own revenge to take, but her methods were different—and in this battle, she couldn't trust anyone.

Within moments, the car reached the airport. Eric's private jet was already waiting—just like his power and influence, which always cleared the path ahead of him before he even arrived. Without any delay, the three of them boarded the jet. The roaring engine marked the beginning of their journey—a journey that wasn't just about covering distances between countries but about taking their lives to a whole new turning point.

Germany

After several hours of flying, the jet finally touched down on German soil. As soon as they stepped out, a gust of cold wind brushed against their faces, but there was something unusual in the air—an unspoken tension that lingered around them.

Eric's house was one of the most luxurious estates in Germany—a grand mansion that looked nothing short of a fortress. But inside, the atmosphere was entirely different. The people living there didn't seem happy. His mother, grandmother, uncle, aunt, and cousin resided in the house, yet a strange silence hung in the air, as if the walls held secrets too dark to reveal.

Johnson Villa

From the outside, Eric's home looked like a majestic fortress, but within its walls lay deep, buried secrets.

As Eric, William, and Elena reached the grand entrance, the intricate marble carvings on the towering doors cast mesmerizing shadows under the moonlight. The moment they stepped inside, an eerie chill surrounded them—it wasn't just the cold air but also an unsettling sense of familiarity.

Elena's eyes first fell on an elderly woman descending the grand staircase with composed grace. Her wrinkled face held a peaceful, gentle smile. Her neatly tied white hair and the deep wisdom in her eyes exuded warmth. She was Greta Johnson, Eric's grandmother—a woman of patience and experience, who always had a calm solution to every problem.

"Eric," her voice was soft yet steady, "It's been a long time since I last saw you. Are you doing well?"

Eric tried to force a smile, but he could see the unspoken questions in his grandmother's eyes.

Just then, a stern voice echoed through the hall.

"Now that you're here, I hope you haven't brought trouble with you—like always."

At the other end of the staircase stood Martha Johnson, Eric's mother. Her face was emotionless, her cold eyes fixed on Elena with quiet scrutiny. She walked with confidence and authority. Love was not something she expressed easily—she believed in discipline. Every word she spoke felt like a final verdict—firm and unwavering.

Eric didn't respond. He simply met his mother's gaze, as if conveying something silently through his eyes.

But the true masterminds of the household were yet to reveal themselves.

"Oh, look who's finally back—our dear nephew!"

A tall, well-groomed man descended the stairs with a sly smile.

Henrik Johnson—Eric's uncle. His eyes gleamed like a predator analyzing its prey. He always maintained a facade of politeness, but Eric knew that every word Henrik spoke carried a hidden agenda.

"Doesn't it feel strange to return home after so many months?" Henrik chuckled.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me." Eric's tone was sharp.

"Happy?"

A new voice joined in from the stairs. A beautiful yet dangerously charming woman stood there, her smile laced with more deceit than warmth—Sophia Johnson, Henrik's wife. Her eyes were like a huntress's—soft on the surface, but deadly underneath.

"We'll be happy only when we know for sure that whatever you brought back this time won't ruin anything… or anyone."

She ended her words with a light laugh, but the suspicion in her tone was clear.

Elena observed the atmosphere closely. This family appeared united on the surface, but deep down, they were ready to destroy each other at any moment.

"Why so formal, dear brother and sister-in-law?"

A slow, melodic yet mysterious voice broke the silence.

All eyes turned toward Clara Johnson, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. She was breathtakingly beautiful—tall, with thick, flowing hair and an innocent-looking face. But her eyes held a depth that could see through anyone's soul.

"Can't I even hug my dear cousin?" She spoke in a dramatic tone and stepped forward.

Eric knew this was all an act. No one in this house was as simple as they seemed. Every smile here hid a carefully planned move.

This mansion was not just a home—it was a battleground, where everyone was waiting for the perfect moment to make their masterstroke. And in this game, only the smartest player would win.

Elena had already understood one thing about this family—nothing was as it appeared. Everything was the exact opposite of what it seemed.

Ignoring everyone, Eric looked straight up and called out loudly,

"Dodo, I brought your mom back!"