After that, Ross went on enjoying the kind of life most n could only ever dream about. His na had beco legend—not just in basketball circles, but across global headlines.
He was more than an NBA superstar. He was a brand, an icon, a walking fantasy with real power behind his fa.
Now with five children—Alistair, Anya, Adelyn, Alexander, and his newest addition, Daniel, with Ashley—his legacy was growing in more ways than one.
Each child was precious to him, a reminder of the different chapters of his life and journey.
His ho, if one could even call his sprawling, custom-designed mansion that, echoed with laughter, warmth, and a certain chaotic harmony that only ca from a big, blended family.
He had everything: wealth beyond imagination, beautiful wives, passionate mistresses, a career still soaring even after years of dominance on the court. But he wasn't stopping there.
With business ventures spreading across tech, fashion, and entertainnt, and now his face starting to grace big-screen blockbusters, Ross was determined to secure a future so golden even his grandchildren would never need to worry.
But despite his desire to simply live and let live, the world wouldn't leave him alone. Peace was hard to get and maintain.
And the higher you fly, the more visible you beco.
And sowhere across the city, in a place far removed from Ross's glitzy world, sothing darker was being planned.
"A new mission?" a deep, smooth voice asked, slicing through the pounding bass of the exclusive nightclub.
The man who spoke didn't look like he belonged in a den of flashing lights and mindless dancing. He stood tall, calm in the chaos, his presence sohow making the loud room feel silent around him.
His suit was crisp, tailored to perfection, emphasizing the powerful fra beneath it. His eyes were cold steel, scanning the room without moving his head—trained, dangerous.
This was Thomas, codena Casanova, and he wasn't here for fun.
His looks were disarming—unfair, even. Won followed him with their eyes, pulled in by his magnetism, but the truth was far more lethal. He wasn't just a pretty face.
He was a weapon, forged by the world's shadows, deployed only when the stakes were highest.
Across the booth, an older man leaned forward, weathered hands holding a glass that hadn't been touched. His voice barely rose above a whisper, but Thomas heard him perfectly.
"Yes. We want you on this one. It's delicate. And volatile."
Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Delicate? You've sent to dismantle syndicates and topple puppet governnts. What could be so delicate this ti?"
The old man exhaled. "You've read the file."
"I have. Front to back. Twice. You had a woman embedded already."
"We did."
"And?"
"She's compromised. She was ordered to get close to the target—build rapport, seduce him if necessary."
Thomas smirked. "And now she's in love with him."
The old man didn't deny it. "She won't carry out the mission. She's refused orders. She's protecting him. Basically sleeping with the target as speak."
"So now you want to go in, win hearts, break defenses, and finish what your asset couldn't."
"We want you to work on this job. Infiltrate," the man said. "You've been known to do that better than anyone."
Thomas tilted his head. "You're aware that this target isn't just anyone, right?"
"Yes."
"He's Ross Oakley. Global figure. Billionaire. NBA gastar. Business mogul. He's not so arms dealer hiding behind smoke. He's adored. Protected. Watched constantly."
"That's why we need soone like you. Soone who can blend into every world."
"And what's the real threat here?" Thomas asked. "You say he's just a celebrity, a businessman. You've had chances to take him down quietly if he was a real danger. Why now?"
There was a beat of silence.
"He's more than what the world sees," the old man said finally. "He's building sothing. Gathering people. Creating connections. Dangerous ones. You've read that it all started with the mysterious killings when he founded his store but this has evolved to beco so much more than that."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You're telling the NBA star might be starting a shadow empire?"
"We don't know for sure. And that's why we need to know."
Thomas let that sit for a mont. Then he stood up slowly, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. He looked out over the dance floor where people laughed, drank, and danced, oblivious to the conversation happening above their heads.
"This won't be like the other jobs," he said. "This man… he's not like the others. He's clean on paper. Loved by millions. You want to infiltrate that life? Then I need full freedom to operate. No restrictions. No second-guessing. And if I go deep, you better not pull out early."
The old man nodded once. "You'll have everything you need. Just make sure you find out the truth. And if he's truly a threat…"
Thomas turned to leave, his voice cold. "Then I'll do what I do best."
***
Thomas left the club without drawing attention, his steps smooth, deliberate, and unhurried. The nightlife roared behind him, but his mind was already elsewhere—focused, sharp.
He didn't head directly to his hotel. Years in the field had taught him better. Instead, he looped through alleyways, doubled back through crowds, boarded and exited public transport randomly—all part of his standard counter-surveillance protocol.
He wasn't just a spy anymore. He was a ghost with a purpose.
No longer the man who once dread of a normal life, Thomas had beco sothing else entirely—sothing carved out of necessity and survival.
His work had earned him more money than he could ever spend, but it had also cost him pieces of himself along the way.
He didn't speak of it often, but if soone ever asked whether he had regrets, he would answer honestly.
Yes. He did.
There was a ti he would've loved to live freely, enjoy life like any handso man might—with wine, travel, and won who weren't tied to missions or objectives. But that path was long gone.
Life hadn't given him many choices. He'd adapted. Thrived. And now, the only thing that made sense was the mission.
Thirty minutes after leaving the club, he finally arrived at his hotel—a discreet luxury suite booked under a false na.
After another sweep of the hallway and a brief digital check for bugs, Thomas locked himself in and opened his laptop.
He pulled up the digital file again. The real target: Ross Oakley.
Thomas leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on the polished glass table, the glow of his laptop screen reflecting in his cold, calculating eyes.
The muted hum of the city outside barely reached his ears. Up here, twenty floors above the ground, the world was quiet—perfect for the kind of work he was about to do.
He'd studied countless targets in the past, dismantled empires from within, seduced information out of won. Hordes of them.
But none of them had quite the sa aura as Ross Oakley. He was a public figure, yet mysterious. Loved, yet dangerous. Too pristine to be real. The kind of man who seed untouchable.
But even gods had weaknesses.
And Thomas knew exactly where to start looking: the won.
The files on Ross's wives and mistresses weren't just folders of nas and numbers.
They were detailed dossiers—photos, interviews, body language analyses, habits, schedules, purchase histories, psychological profiles. Each woman had her own chapter.
Thomas tilted his head as he examined a recent photo of all the many beautiful won around Ross. They were laughing, arms linked, looking like a perfect family. No jealousy. No competition. It was unnatural. Or expertly managed.
"How do you do it, Ross?" he muttered. "How do you keep all these queens loyal to one king?"
He stared a little longer. His gaze road, lingering over one of Ross' won. Her long legs, bare shoulders, the way her eyes sparkled as she looked at Ross with great love and affection.
It wasn't just lust—it was curiosity. Fascination. These weren't empty shells or manipulated dolls. These won were intelligent, alert, aware of their positions.
This wouldn't be like past jobs where a simple lie, a charming smile, and a touch of attention could open any door.
No, Thomas thought, if I want to get in… I'll have to play this right. Earn it. Slowly.
And that excited him more than he cared to admit. He thrived on the challenge and the many ways he could be creative in catching his prey.
He stood and moved toward the window, the city skyline stretching out before him like a chessboard.
Sowhere out there, Ross was asleep—peaceful, powerful, and completely unaware that a new piece had entered the ga. A dangerous piece. One that didn't follow the rules.
Thomas sipped a glass of scotch and turned back to his laptop. He zood in on a surveillance video of one of Ross' wives in a luxury spa. She was alone, texting, smiling slightly. Not a care in the world.
That's how it always starts, Thomas thought. They're relaxed. Comfortable. Safe. Until soone like shows up and changes everything.
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