All Chapters of Requiem of The Godfather: Price of a Memory: Chapter 91
- Chapter 100
111 chapters
Ch 91. 60 Seconds as God
"Take it," the voice whispered. The voice no longer belonged to Eduardo. It was a vibration crawling out of dead vocal cords, a frequency understood only by the darkness trapped inside his skull. [SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: FINAL TRANSACTION ACCEPTED] [TRADING CATEGORY: CORE IDENTITY - "EDUARDO"] [STATUS: DELETING ALL PERSONAL MEMORIES, EMOTIONAL BONDS, AND SELF-AWARENESS] [ADMINISTRATOR ACCESS: GRANTED] [TIME LIMIT: 60 SECONDS] [COUNTDOWN INITIATED: 00:59...] The world in the Reaper's eyes froze. Raindrops that had been hammering the earth now hung motionless in the air like suspended crystals. Dust from the explosion stopped halfway through its flight. The smell of sulfur, blood, and gunpowder vanished, replaced by a silence so dense it could rupture an ordinary person's eardrums. The black aura that had enveloped Eduardo was sucked back into the pores of his skin. No steam rose from him anymore. Instead, his entire body began radiating a solid
Ch 92. The Collapse of the Pillar of Heaven
Time seemed to crawl like a dying snail beneath Eduardo's feet. Second fifty-one. The grip of his left hand, the one with only four fingers, sank deep into the soft flesh of Don Vladimir's neck. The old man who had called himself the "Wolf of Rome" for decades could now only produce disgusting gurgling noises. Urine and filth seeped through the legs of his expensive silk trousers, one final humiliation for the dignity of a mafia king. "Ma... es... tro..." Vladimir whimpered, his eyes bulging so far they nearly burst from their sockets. Eduardo gave no answer. His smooth white face, devoid of pores, showed neither rage, satisfaction, nor hatred. He was nothing more than an erasure algorithm carrying out its final command. "Your system isn't listening anymore, Vladimir," Eduardo's voice echoed like thousands of voices colliding inside an empty cathedral. "Because in front of an Administrator, all your security protocols are just broken lines of code." KRAK!
Ch 93. Blank Slate
The blades of the stolen Black Hawk helicopter roared wildly, slicing through the haze of smoke that blanketed the crater where Vladimir’s villa once stood. Inside the cramped cabin that reeked of machine oil, the atmosphere felt far more suffocating than the battlefield below. Gord gripped the handle of his machine gun so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his eyes locked on the man kneeling silently on the cabin floor. Eduardo, or whatever remained of him, said nothing. The shredded black suit had already been removed by Freya, leaving him in a white dress shirt now stained gray with concrete dust and black blood. He did not move. He did not complain. He simply stared at the palm of his own hand with a furrowed brow, as if he were looking at an object that did not belong to him. “Ed? Eduardo? You hear me, asshole?” Gord shouted over the engine noise, his voice rough with restrained emotion. Eduardo slowly looked up. His clear gray eyes met Gord’s. There was
Ch 94. Return of the Parasite Queen
Zermatt, Switzerland. Snow fell softly beyond the massive glass windows of a luxury villa rented under one of Eduardo’s shell companies. Inside, the calming scent of sandalwood aromatherapy candles filled the room, but the atmosphere at the dining table was anything but peaceful. Emily slammed her crystal glass onto the marble table hard enough for the drink inside to splash across her chinchilla fur coat. Her sharp eyes locked onto the young blond man sitting across from her. “What the hell do you mean the investment failed, Marco?!” Emily shrieked. Her voice shattered the silence of the Alps. The man named Marco, the ski instructor who had spent the past month serving as both Emily’s toyboy and self-proclaimed financial advisor, merely shrugged casually. “It failed, Elena. Crypto’s crashing. That ten million dollars you gave me yesterday... yeah, it’s basically ashes now.” “Ten million dollars?! That was the last liquid cash I had left, asshole!” Emily sh
Ch 95. War of Two Women
The concrete floor of the medical corridor in Sector Five trembled, not from explosions outside, but from the raw tension radiating off the two women standing face to face in front of Eduardo’s room. The air suddenly felt thin, as if even oxygen refused to be trapped between them. Freya stood tall, feet planted wide in a stable combat stance despite the weakness still lingering in her body. Her hands no longer trembled. The barrel of her Glock 17 pointed straight between Emily’s eyes. “One more step and I’ll make your brains part of the floor decoration, Emily,” Freya hissed. Her voice was as low as a wolf growling over its cub. Emily, dressed in an immaculate white silk suit and a fur coat that looked absurdly luxurious inside the grim bunker, merely raised an eyebrow. She didn’t back away. Instead, she adjusted her oversized sunglasses with graceful indifference, as though the gun aimed at her were nothing more than an annoying fly. “Put your toy down, sweetheart.
Ch 96. The Golden Doll
The spotlight from the massive ring light in the center hall of Sark Tower’s penthouse was blinding, reflecting off the marble floor that had finally been scrubbed clean of bloodstains.Eduardo sat stiffly in an antique gold-plated chair, dressed in a dark navy velvet suit paired with a silk shirt without a tie. His white hair had been slicked neatly back with pungent hair gel, the overwhelming scent only making his hollow mind ache even more.In front of him, Emily busied herself applying a little concealer beneath Eduardo’s now dim gray eyes."Hold still, Ed. These eye bags are seriously ruining the photo aesthetic," Emily said while pressing her fingers against his face. "You need to look like a Godfather recovering from overwork, not a homeless guy who just got beaten half to death by a mob."Eduardo simply stared straight ahead at the camera lens prepared by the new publicity team Emily had brought in."It hurts... the smell’s too sharp..." Eduardo whispered softly."Oh my God, y
Ch 97. Sleeping Instincts
The rooftop hanging garden atop Sark Tower had been transformed into a nauseating labyrinth of luxury. Emily was no longer satisfied with Dutch tulips alone. This time, she had ordered decorators to build fountains flowing with Château Margaux wine and rows of ice sculptures shaped like kneeling wolves, a visual insult aimed at the remaining Vladimir loyalists. Orchestral music drifted softly through the air, blending with the clinking of crystal glasses and the artificial laughter of the city's elites, people who had returned to licking the feet of Eduardo's family once again. In the middle of the crowd, Eduardo stood motionless like a stone monument. He wore a striking ivory suit, his white hair gleaming beneath the garden lights. "Smile, Ed. Look at the camera at your ten o'clock," Emily whispered while tightly holding onto Eduardo's arm. Her own smile was flawless, the kind that only came from thousands of hours practicing in front of a mirror. Eduardo didn't r
Ch 98. Business from the Grave
The east wing bedroom of the Sark Tower penthouse now resembled a display showroom more than a place of rest. The walls were lined with soundproof silk, the doors were steel disguised beneath carved teakwood, and there were no windows that could be opened, all under Emily's orders in the name of "high-level security." Eduardo sat at the edge of his king-size bed, dressed in silk pajamas that felt unnaturally slippery against his skin. He stared at the door locked from the outside. On the bedside table sat a glass of warm milk that had long since gone cold, left there by Emily before she departed for another investor banquet. "Ed... my name's Ed?" Eduardo whispered into the silence. He tried to remember what had happened earlier at the party. The image of a torn throat and the metallic taste on his tongue made his stomach churn. He didn't understand why his body had moved so fast. He didn't understand why seeing that knife gleam had made him feel so... thirsty for de
Ch 99. The Second Escape
The crystal chandelier in the east wing bedroom swayed gently, casting reflections across Emily's arrogant figure standing in the doorway. In her hand, the champagne glass was still half full, while on her face rested a smile sharp enough to make an ordinary man's courage crumble. Behind her stood two broad-shouldered men in fresh tactical uniforms, not Eduardo's old people, but mercenaries Emily had hired through a private security firm using company accounts. "Freya, Freya... you really don't know when to stop, do you?" Emily sipped her drink, her eyes fixed on the barrel of the Glock in Freya's hand. "You think running away with Eduardo makes you some kind of hero? He's an asset, sweetheart. And assets don't get stolen by employees who've already been fired." "I don't work for you, Emily," Freya hissed, her hands steady even as pain twisted violently through her stomach. "I work for Eduardo. And the man you've turned into a puppet needs protection from you." "Protec
Ch 100. The Pier of Memories
The sound of rain hammering against the corrugated metal roof of Warehouse Seven echoed like an endless barrage of gunfire. Inside the vast room, thick with the smell of salt and rotting wood, Eduardo knelt on the creaking wooden floor. His body trembled violently, not from the cold, but because every inch of his nervous system felt as though it were being dragged apart by invisible barbed wire. "Ugh... hakh... cold..." Eduardo groaned. He clutched his head, fingernails digging into his scalp until the skin turned red. This place. This cursed pier. It was sending shockwaves into the deepest recesses of his empty mind. His physical memory was reacting faster than his cognitive memory. * Muscle Memory: The agony of a shattered jaw. * Muscle Memory: The salty seawater filling his lungs. * Muscle Memory: The sound of Claude's laughter before he drowned. "Ed! Hold it together, Ed! Focus on me!" Freya shouted over the roar of the rain. She stood w