The moment Selena mentioned the street name, the silence on the other end of the call did not bring relief. It was not the ordinary pause of someone thinking or hesitating—it was heavier, deliberate, and dangerous, as though Barbara were carefully measuring every word she was about to unleash. “Ashwill Crescent,” Barbara repeated slowly at last. “So you’re not joking.”Selena tightened her grip on the phone, her knuckles paling. “I told you the truth. I went there. I told them everything,” she replied, forcing steadiness into her voice. “Barbara’s response came immediately, her voice rising with barely contained fury. “You foolish, ungrateful girl. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You think leaking our plans makes you brave?” Her breath sounded harsh through the line. “You think you can betray me and walk away untouched?”“It makes me free,” Selena shot back, her tone sharp despite the rapid pounding of her heart. “And you can’t change that.”Barbara laughed then, but the

Selena’s death sat heavily in the air, like a dark cloud that refused to lift. The flashing lights of police vehicles had long disappeared from the street outside, and the distant echo of sirens had faded into nothingness. The living room felt smaller than it ever had before.Charlotte sat on the edge of the couch, her shoulders hunched inward as if she were trying to fold herself into nothing. Her eyes were swollen and red, her lashes clumped together with tears that refused to stop falling. A folded handkerchief trembled in her fingers, already damp and useless, but she held onto it anyway, as though letting go might cause her to shatter completely. Every few seconds, her chest hitched, sharp breaths breaking through her lips as another wave of grief surged through her.Logan stood a few steps away, motionless. His posture was rigid, his arms hanging stiffly at his sides, with his jaw clenched so tightly it throbbed with pain. He had faced danger before and had even stared vi

The line connected almost immediately.“Yes?” came the calm, gravelly voice on the other end.Barbara did not bother with pleasantries. “Do not forget our plan,” she said sharply. “In fact, it has become far more urgent.”There was a brief pause. “Go on.”“Logan and Charlotte have found out,” Barbara continued, her voice lowering. “They are aware that there has been a plot against them. If this situation is allowed to linger, it will boomerang and expose everyone involved.”Another pause, longer this time.“So,” the man said slowly, “you want this concluded immediately.”“Before nightfall,” Barbara replied firmly. “I want them gone before the sun sets.”The man exhaled softly, almost amused. “You should have said so from the beginning. When I take a job, Barbara Sullivan, I finish it.”Barbara’s lips curved into a faint, satisfied smile. “That is exactly why I called you.”“Consider it done,” the man said. “Logan and Charlotte will soon become history.”Barbara felt a strange sense of

The men exchanged quick, uncertain glances when Logan calmly told them to do whatever they wanted.They had expected something else entirely—fear, maybe desperation. Pleading, panic, bargaining. Most people faced with armed men in a locked room showed it in their eyes within seconds. Their breathing changed. Their voices cracked. Their bodies shrank.Logan did none of that.His tone had been steady, almost detached, as if the danger standing in front of him was nothing more than an inconvenience. That calm confidence unsettled them far more than shouting ever could.“Did you hear that?” one of them muttered under his breath, shifting his stance. “This guy’s got nerves.”“Don’t let it get to you,” the leader snapped, though his jaw tightened. “He’s bluffing.”Even as he spoke, doubt crept in. It hung in the air, subtle but unmistakable. Logan’s audacity had planted it, and doubt was dangerous in moments like this—especially for men who relied on intimidation to stay in control.Charlot

Meanwhile, in Barbara’s house, the atmosphere was tense yet deceptively busy. The large living room glowed beneath warm crystal chandeliers, their light reflecting off polished marble floors and expensive furniture arranged with deliberate precision. Plush sofas, antique side tables, and carefully chosen artwork suggested elegance and control, yet beneath the surface lay a restless current of anxiety that no amount of luxury could fully conceal. The air felt heavy, charged with expectation, as though the walls themselves were listening. Barbara sat at the head of the room, her posture straight, her expression composed but alert. Around her were several members of the Sullivan family—uncles, cousins, and distant relatives whose faces bore different shades of impatience and ambition. Despite their varying ages and temperaments, they shared one defining trait: a hunger for power and control that bound them together more tightly than blood alone ever could. Their discussion, which had be