December arrived, and once again, Ross Oakley sent shockwaves across the world.
This ti, it was for marrying Amy, Sandra, and Diane—three more stunning won added to his ever-growing modern harem.
The news spread like wildfire, dominating headlines, social dia, and television broadcasts.
It was all anyone could talk about, from ordinary citizens to high-ranking officials.
But, of course, this was nothing new.
Ross had long since beco a global phenonon.
Every detail about his life—his wealth, his unmatched abilities, his relationships—was scrutinized by billions.
Even governnts across the world kept a close eye on him, so out of fascination, others out of pure unease.
How could they not?
A man like Ross, with seemingly limitless power, wealth, and influence, was a force that couldn't be ignored.
And now, with this latest wedding, Ross had officially taken twenty-five wives.
The world erupted in conversation, with reactions ranging from sheer admiration to complete disbelief.
"Ross fucking Oakley is built different! This guy is living the ultimate dream!"
"He did it again! Another wedding? Another set of beauties? Just how far is he going to take this?"
"Doesn't he get tired of won throwing themselves at him? At this point, he's not just surrounded by pussy—he's swimming in it!"
"Man's playing life on god mode. And honestly? I respect it."
"He's a legend, simple as that. If I had his wealth and power, I'd do the sa thing!"
So saw him as an icon, the ultimate alpha male who had everything—money, power, and the most breathtaking won by his side.
Others criticized him, claiming his lifestyle was excessive, indulgent, even outrageous.
But regardless of the opinions flying around, one fact remained unshaken: Ross Oakley was the most talked-about man in the world.
It wasn't just regular people discussing him. High-profile journalists debated whether he was redefining the concept of relationships.
Analysts speculated about the impact his growing influence could have on global politics.
Even late-night talk show hosts couldn't resist making jokes about his seemingly endless appetite for more wives.
But while the world obsessed over him, Ross?
He didn't give a damn.
Let them talk. Let them speculate. None of it mattered.
He had what he wanted, and nothing— no rule, no expectation, no amount of judgnt— was going to stop him.
***
A month passed, and before anyone realized it, January 2030 had arrived.
Ross, as always, lived the dream—surrounded by love, luxury, and the unwavering devotion of his wives and children.
His world was one of absolute power, where every desire was t, and every problem could be solved with a re flick of his hand.
On the surface, everything should have been perfect.
But perfection was an illusion.
Beneath the glamor and wealth, shadows still stirred—people with hidden agendas, enemies watching from the darkness, waiting for their chance to strike.
Even in a world where Ross stood at the pinnacle, not everyone was content to let him reign unchallenged.
And close to his empire, in a dimly lit room within his mansion, Rachel sat alone.
She perched at the edge of the bed, a phone pressed tightly to her ear, her free hand unconsciously gripping the fabric of her shirt.
Her eyes flickered to the door—locked, just as she had left it—but still, she whispered, as if unseen ears could hear her.
"I can't right now, Jimmy. I'm still on the job."
The words ca out firm, practiced. Words she had repeated countless tis before.
On the other end of the line, Jimmy's sigh was heavy, laced with exhaustion and frustration.
"Rachel, when are you coming ho? It's been months. You didn't even spend Christmas here."
Rachel exhaled slowly.
She knew this conversation was coming. It always ca. Jimmy had been patient—so much more patient than she deserved.
But the cracks in his resolve had been growing for months.
"I told you before," she said, her voice soft but unyielding. "I can't leave. Not yet."
A short silence followed before Jimmy spoke again, this ti in a voice that carried a quiet desperation.
"Rachel, you've been gone for over a year."
Rachel pressed her lips together, guilt tightening around her chest like a vice.
"This undercover job—this mission—it has to stop. Co ho."
His voice wasn't demanding anymore. It was pleading.
Rachel closed her eyes.
How many tis had they had this argunt? How many tis had she stood her ground, telling him this was bigger than the both of them? That her duty ca first?
But the truth was, she hadn't expected it to last this long.
She hadn't expected to stay away for so long.
"Jimmy," she began, but he cut her off.
"No." His voice cracked.
"I can't keep doing this. I can't keep waiting for you while you throw yourself into sothing that's eating up your life."
Rachel's grip on the phone tightened.
"This is important, Jimmy," she insisted. "I need to stay. I need to see this through."
"And what about us, Rachel?" he snapped. "What about ? What about our life?"
Rachel opened her mouth to respond, but no words ca.
The silence stretched, cold and suffocating.
Then, in a voice so final, so devastatingly certain, Jimmy said the words she had been dreading for months:
"That's it. I can't do this anymore. Let's call it quits."
Rachel's breath hitched.
She felt the words cut deep, but instead of pain, she felt sothing else.
Relief.
And that realization made the guilt hit even harder.
She should have fought back. She should have begged him to reconsider, to wait just a little longer.
But she didn't.
Because deep down, she had known this was coming.
A long, heavy silence filled the line, stretching between them like an unspoken goodbye.
Then, finally, she exhaled.
"Okay."
Her voice was eerily calm, as if she had already made peace with it.
"Let's break up."
Jimmy didn't say anything.
Rachel swallowed, forcing herself to continue.
"This setup has been unfair to you for a long ti, Jimmy. I'm sorry it had to co to this."
Her fingers curled into her palm, the weight of her decision settling over her.
But she couldn't lie to herself.
As much as she knew she should be devastated, that she should feel the sharp sting of heartbreak—
All she felt was relief.
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