Chapter 89
- Byron leaned back in the seat of his black Jeep, and the corners of his mouth curled into a satisfied smirk. The air was thick with celebration as his convoy rolled through the streets. His sycophants and loyalists, who adored his wealth and power rather than his character, lined the sidewalks waving banners plastered with his name.
- He waved occasionally as though he were some savior. The streets were alive with color and noise. Banners in bright reds and gold fluttered from lamp posts, which were the colors of Byron's party. Crowds chanted his name like a mantra, and vendors set up stalls selling Byron-themed shirts and caps. Byron watched with detached amusement, enjoying every moment. This was his victory. He had crushed Alex’s pathetic rebellion, and nothing stood in his way.
- Byron stepped out and took in the sight when the convoy reached the coronation grounds. Byron strode confidently toward the stage, with his father waiting at the top with open arms.