All Chapters of Once Downtrodden; Now Divine: Chapter 211
- Chapter 220
278 chapters
Chapter 212
The air in Victor Hale’s mansion was thick with tension, almost suffocating, as he stared into the camera, sweat beading along his forehead and dampening his neatly pressed shirt. Every fiber of his body ached with the weight of the moment. He had no choice. The walls he had meticulously built with lies, manipulation, and greed had crumbled, and now there was nowhere to hide. Every plan, every calculated risk, every web of deception he had spun over years had unraveled into nothing. Donald stood nearby, silent but unyielding, a shadow of authority in the room. His presence alone seemed to command the space, ensuring that every word Victor spoke would be unflinching, unedited, and uncompromising. There would be no shortcuts, no half-measures. The moment had arrived: Victor would confess everything, publicly, fully, and completely. Victor swallowed hard, his throat dry, and began. His voice trembled, but it carried clearly to the camera, unbroken by hesitation. “I… I am Victor Hale. An
Chapter 213
Don Lewis sat in the dim light of his study, the glow of his phone illuminating his face. His finger hovered over the screen as he replayed Victor Hale’s confession for the third time. The video, which had already gone viral, was supposed to finalize Victor’s downfall, but as Don watched, a cold rage began to form in the pit of his stomach. The man on the screen, pale and trembling, had admitted to sabotaging DeGrand Corporation—but Victor had also implied something dangerous. Don’s knuckles tightened around the edge of the desk. That subtle glance Victor had given at the camera, that faint hesitation before admitting the sabotage… it was the kind of hint that someone could connect the dots. Someone could realize who had orchestrated the entire scheme. And that meant only one thing: Victor could expose Don, his family, and everything they had done. Fear coiled tightly in Don’s chest. He had underestimated how quickly someone like Victor could crumble, but he hadn’t miscalculated the
Chapter 214
The room fell into an uneasy silence the moment the front door swung open. Heads turned sharply, eyes narrowing at the unexpected figure stepping in. It was none other than Donald Smith, his usual calm but menacing presence filling the space as he walked in with one of his trusted men. The lighting from the chandelier glinted off the polished floor, casting long shadows that seemed to accentuate the tension, making every corner of the room appear sharper, more ominous. The air itself seemed to thicken with anticipation, heavy with the unspoken awareness that something decisive was about to unfold. Donald’s gaze swept over everyone present, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail with the precision of a predator analyzing its surroundings. Finally, his eyes rested on Don Lewis, whose expression darkened at the sight. Don’s lips twitched, as if he were trying to maintain a mask of amusement, but his eyes betrayed the first hint of unease, a subtle flicker of doubt that he could not
Chapter 215
The room crackled with tension as Don’s deep, threatening growl filled the air. Every shadow seemed sharper, the chandeliers above reflecting the mounting danger, throwing fractured light across polished floors and expensive furnishings. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Donald,” he said, his voice a low rumble of fury, each syllable punctuated by barely restrained menace. “I suggest you leave my house immediately before you do something you’ll regret. Last time you got lucky, but this time, you won’t go scot-free.” His face was twisted in anger, muscles taut, eyes burning with a volatile mix of rage and disbelief. The energy in the room seemed to bend around him, every movement deliberate, calculated to intimidate. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, as though daring Donald to make a move, his stance radiating authority and danger. Donald stood, calm, his expression a sharp contrast to Don’s fiery aggression. There was a precision to him, a quiet confidence that seemed a
Chapter 216
The room was thick with tension, every heartbeat echoing like a drum in the quiet that had settled after Donald’s earlier confrontation. The chandeliers above cast fractured light across the polished marble floors, reflecting in shards against the walls and amplifying the unease that had taken hold. Even the faint hum of electronics seemed louder, each subtle sound magnifying the pressure in the space. Don Lewis’s voice rang sharply through the large living room, cutting through the silence like a whip. “I said go! Go and fulfill the assignment I gave you! I am still your boss, and if you don’t do this, you’ll answer to me!” he barked, each word punctuated with raw authority and simmering rage. He stomped his foot for emphasis, the vibration traveling through the floorboards, rattling the legs of nearby tables and chairs. The men he had sent, trained and disciplined though they were, froze in place. Their footsteps had faltered; their hands gripped weapons that suddenly felt heavier,
Chapter 217
The room was tense, suffused with the rich scent of expensive leather and polished wood, mingling with the faint tang of alcohol lingering from a decanter that had been carelessly left on the side table. Shadows from the chandelier stretched across the floor, catching in every crease of the Persian rug beneath their feet, making the space feel both grand and suffocating. Light flickered slightly as the crystal facets of the chandelier refracted it in sharp, fractured patterns, dancing across the walls and ceiling in a way that seemed almost alive, amplifying the unease that filled the air. Don Lewis stood rigid in the center of his expansive living room, the muscles in his jaw taut, his eyes narrowed and alight with fury and disbelief. Every line of his body screamed authority, yet beneath that, the tremor of panic betrayed him, showing cracks in the armor he always projected. The subtle quiver in his hands, the way his shoulders stiffened as he breathed, was almost imperceptible, but
Chapter 218
Don’s chest rose and fell unevenly as he lay sprawled across the polished floor, pain radiating through every part of his body. Each breath came in jagged pulls, as though his lungs were struggling to remember their rhythm. For a moment, it seemed as though the fight had been drained out of him, leaving behind nothing but the weight of impact and the dull throb of injuries that refused to be ignored. Blood stained his lips, warm and metallic against his tongue, and his vision blurred as he struggled to focus on the figure standing over him. The ceiling lights fractured into indistinct shapes, and the room itself felt as though it tilted slightly, refusing to stay steady. But Don Lewis was not a man who surrendered easily. With a strained groan that seemed to tear from deep within his chest, he forced his hands against the floor and pushed himself up. His fingers pressed hard against the smooth surface, slipping slightly before finding resistance. His arms trembled under the weight of
Chapter 219
Outside, the headlights of a sleek black vehicle cut through the darkness as Donald’s man wasted no time carrying out his orders. The beam of light sliced across the driveway, illuminating the gravel and the edges of the mansion’s exterior before stretching into the night beyond. The air was cool and still, the kind of silence that seemed to listen, to wait, as events unfolded with quiet inevitability. “Move,” he commanded sharply. Don’s men, once proud and unyielding, now moved without resistance. The confidence that had once defined them had been stripped away, leaving behind only the remnants of fear. Their shoulders were tense, their movements rigid, and their eyes avoided meeting one another. The events they had just witnessed had broken whatever courage they once had. One by one, they were pushed toward the vehicle, their steps heavy, reluctant, yet obedient. The doors opened with a dull mechanical sound, and they were forced inside, their movements stiff and silent, as though
Chapter 220
The air in the Lewis mansion had changed. What was once a house filled with power, confidence, and control now carried the weight of grief and fury. The chandeliers still glowed with quiet elegance, their warm light reflecting off polished surfaces and expensive décor, but beneath that calm surface, something dark was rising. The stillness that once represented authority now felt oppressive, as though the walls themselves had absorbed the shock of what had happened and were holding it in, refusing to let it escape. Every corner of the mansion seemed heavier, the silence stretching longer, deeper, filled with something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. Craig Lewis stood at the center of his study, his face hardened, his eyes burning with a dangerous intensity. The news of his son’s death had not broken him—it had transformed him. The composure he had always maintained had shifted into something sharper, colder, more volatile. His posture remained strong, but there was an edge to it n
Chapter 221
Craig’s injured hand was now wrapped, though a faint stain had already begun to seep through the bandage. The white fabric was slowly darkening where the blood pressed against it, but he barely noticed it. The dull ache that should have demanded his attention was nothing compared to the storm occupying his mind. Pain, to him, had become secondary—something distant, almost irrelevant in the face of what he had lost and what he intended to do next. His mind was elsewhere, focused, and calculating. Every thought moved with purpose, connecting pieces, forming strategies, discarding weaknesses. The grief that had consumed him earlier had not disappeared—it had simply changed shape, sharpening into something far more controlled. Something dangerous. He turned as one of his men stepped into the room, standing at attention just inside the doorway. The man’s posture was rigid, his expression careful, as though he understood that even the smallest misstep could provoke a reaction. “You,” Cra