Why Did Treasure Originally Have A 13th Member?

Tristan Hayes' life took a sharp turn, one moment he was on the cusp of his dream then suddenly found himself drowning. Trauma surgeon residency was brutal enough; losing his scholarship was a knockout blow. Desperate, he swallowed his pride and became "Titan" at Club Inferno. Six months, and he was their star, his body a commodity. Tonight was his last dance – he was booked for a bachelorette party for a bride-to-be linked to the Mafia family. He remembered the haze of perfume, the clamor, the hands pulling him closer and the willing mouths tasting him. He remembered the bride, her eyes wide, her laughter turning into moans and gasps. He entertained the women, the night ending with the bride's face covered in his thick sticky seed. After this night, he wanted to close this chapter of his life. He wanted to forget it all. He should have. Tristan awoke in a cold, unfamiliar room, the fear paralyzing. Now, bound and gagged in a concrete cell, the memory was a burning brand. He learned why they called Giovanni Sokolov "The Siberian Winter." Giovanni, a face carved from granite, stood before him. "My bride," Giovanni’s voice was a low growl, "You entertained my fiancée, She died a week ago, trying to run away with a man. Your seed was the catalyst. You helped her betray me." Giovanni leaned closer, his eyes devoid of warmth. "She was running away, Dr. Hayes. You helped her crave forbidden fruit. You opened the door to betrayal." He smiled, a cruel, predatory expression. "Now, you will pay the price of her betrayal. You will take her place... as my companion in bed... my slave and my plaything. Don't worry I'll make you'll enjoy every second of it."

Fresh out of college, Clara Stewart asked me to take on a $500,000 mortgage for her. When I refused, she turned around and bought an $800,000 villa in full, for another guy. Holding up the property deed, she told me: "Jayden, the truth is, I'm actually rich. I've been pretending to be poor to test you. Unfortunately, you failed. I'm disappointed in you. Let's break up." I simply smiled and walked away without a second thought. The irony? I'm the son of the richest man in the country. I was pretending to be broke, too. Fast forward four years, we met again at the National Wealth Summit. Clara had just barely made it into the top 50 on the list, clinging to the arm of Henry Brown as they entered. She spotted me in simple clothes with no visible brand, holding a child in one arm and the keys to a Porsche Cayenne in the other. Thinking I was someone's driver, she sneered: "Jayden, you really went all out just to see me again? Let's be real, you're just a driver now, and I'm on the wealth list. We live in completely different worlds. Don't waste your time fantasizing." I did not bother replying. Honestly, I was only there because my billionaire dad insisted. I had finally cleared a day to spend with my son and now I had to waste it on that.

Ruchee had long forgotten what it meant to live for herself. Since the day life stole both parents from her and left a fragile little sister in her trembling hands, she became everything at once, mother, father, shield, and sacrifice. She built her world from sleepless nights, ruthless decisions, and endless risks, caring for no one beyond the thin line of blood that tied her to the only family she had left. People were distractions. Friendship was unnecessary. Love was a luxury she could never afford. For Ruchee, survival was simple: keep moving, keep fighting, and never let anyone close enough to become another weakness. Until one night, everything was ripped away. Abducted without warning, Ruchee woke up inside a world she never knew existed, a lavish empire drenched in money, sin, and human desperation. There, beneath crystal chandeliers and behind the smiles of monsters dressed in silk, she was no longer a woman. She was merchandise. A rare prize. One of the highest-valued items in the most notorious underground auction where the powerful came not to bid for possessions, but for people. Men with blood-stained fortunes and godlike influence watched her like hungry predators, each number called dragging her closer to a fate worse than death. But among them stood one man. An extraordinary billionaire feared even by the underworld itself. Untouchable. Merciless. A collector of dangerous things. And the moment his eyes settled on her, Ruchee realized the auction was only the beginning. Will she find a way to escape before her freedom is sold to the highest bidder? Or will she become the most prized possession of the one man no one dares to refuse?

After taking her stepsister’s place, Yvonne Miller is married into a wealthy family. To take back her family business, she plots each step she takes carefully. Everyone knows Stephen Anderson is a cruel and ruthless person. Yet, his ugly and uncultured wife has him wrapped around her little finger. Stephen doesn’t mind that his wife’s an ugly duckling. On the contrary, he dotes on her excessively. When he hears gossip about his wife being ugly, with cosmetic surgeons offering her discounts, he whirls into a rage. “These blind dogs! My wife’s the most beautiful woman alive!” he insists.With that, a rumor spreads in Northerna City that Yvonne is Stephen’s retribution for his past misdeeds… Until one day, Yvonne returns from abroad drop-dead gorgeous, sending shockwaves all across the city. However, she doesn’t show up in Stephen’s life again. “What do you take me for, coming and going as you please?” he demands. Stepping aside to present the young kid behind her, Yvonne says in chagrin, “My child’s father?”

I was the top bounty thief in the organization. The best they had. After turning in my final score, I announced on the spot that I was done for good. Then, I stood in my studio, blending paint. A single photograph was pinned to the wall before me. Black Viper filled the doorway, the light behind him casting his face in shadow. "What's it like," he asked quietly, "pretending to be an artist?" He stepped further inside. "Does paint smell better than blood?" I placed the palette knife down and wiped my hands slowly. "I'm done. I walked away." "Old Fox didn't approve of it." "That's not my concern." Black Viper crossed the room and tapped the old photograph on the wall. "Are you certain?" I did not want to look. I told myself not to. However, my gaze shifted anyway. A young boy stared back from the photo. "The blind kid?" I had spent ten years searching for him. "Where is he?" I moved toward the wall, reaching to rip the picture down. "One last job," Black Viper said, pressing his palm against the photo. My hand stopped in midair. "What's the target?" "The final lot at next month's auction that the Gilbert Group will be holding. "It's called Mermaid's Tear."

Two months remained until debut evaluation night. Before our unit performance, our main dancer suddenly offered me her center position. I stared at her, confused, "The trainers always praise your stage presence. Why give up your spot?" "You... you deserve center more than I do." Her smile was painfully forced, and she was fidgeting with her practice clothes - obviously not saying what she really felt. Puzzled by her strange behavior, I asked, "Are my moves too big? Am I making it hard for you to perform?" She suddenly started shaking, looking at me with pure fear in her eyes. After what felt like forever, she finally choked out, "Please, just stop. I won't try to compete with you for center anymore!"