A few people in the crowd stiffened. Carl’s face darkened instantly. Conor’s gaze sharpened just a fraction. “As for your threats—” he added calmly, “you might want to make sure they actually work.” Carl’s fists clenched. “…You think I’m bluffing?” Conor tilted his head slightly. “No,” he said lightly. “I think you’re trying very hard not to look as embarrassed as you feel.” A sharp inhale rippled through the onlookers. Carl’s composure cracked again. “You—!” His voice rose, shaking with rage. “Keep talking!” he snapped. “Go on! Enjoy it while you can!” He pointed at Conor, eyes burning. “Because very soon—very, very soon—” His smile turned cold again. “You’ll see exactly what happens when you cross me.” A beat. Then, quietly— “Just wait.” Conor met his gaze without a trace of concern. And that— More than anything— Made Carl even more furious. Carl’s chest rose and fell rapidly, fury boiling over— But Conor had already lost interest.

For a split second, Olivia didn’t understand the words. They didn’t land properly. Like her brain refused to accept them. “…Who?” she whispered again, but weaker this time. The maid’s voice shattered completely. “Lily!! They took Lily!!” Silence. Not actual silence—the world still existed—but everything inside Olivia just… stopped. Her phone slipped slightly in her hand. Conor’s head turned instantly. “…What happened?” he asked, voice suddenly sharper. Olivia didn’t answer. Her face had gone pale in a way that made her look almost unreal, like all the color had been drained out of her in one breath. “No…” she murmured, barely audible. “No, no, no…” She picked the phone again tightening her fingers tightened around the phone so hard her knuckles whitened. “Say that again,” she said, voice breaking into something controlled but dangerous. “Say it clearly.” On the other end, the maid tried to speak through choking sobs. “They came—masked men—so many—! The

Another channel opened. Rapid reports. Satellite uplinks. Traffic anomalies. Security breaches. Nick scanned them like a man reading a death sentence in real time. And for the first time in a long while— He felt something close to fear. Not for himself. But for everyone else. Because he knew Conor wasn’t just angry. Conor was quiet. And in Nick’s experience, that version of him— was the one right before everything burned, many people may die tonight. Nick barely had time to register the flood of incoming commands before Conor’s voice cut back in—calm, controlled, but now edged with something far more dangerous than anger. “No.” Nick froze. Conor continued, each word precise. “Send people to the store immediately. Take Olivia to the hospital.” A brief pause. Then— His tone dropped even further. “Then find where my daughter has been taken.” Nick’s throat tightened slightly as he nodded, even though Conor couldn’t see him. “Yes, king. Already depl

His hands were trembling as he looked at the empty space. “This is Olivia’s fault,” he spat suddenly. “That woman—she brought this curse into our home!” Emma was as furious as Ronan. “Exactly, grandpa! She always ruins things!” Ronan turned sharply, eyes wild now. “And that man—Conor!” he snarled. “Who does he think he is? Acting high and mighty, provoking powerful families—this is what happens when fools play heroes!” He kicked a broken chair. “They’ve dragged us into this mess! They’ve ruined everything!” His gaze suddenly snapped toward a display case near the wall—shattered. Ronan rushed over, shoving aside splintered wood and broken glass with frantic hands. “No… no—where is it?!” He dropped to his knees, searching desperately through the debris. Then he saw it. Nothing. The velvet slot where it once rested was empty. “My watch…” his voice trembled, then broke into fury. “My $100,000 diamond watch—gone!” His face twisted with rage, veins standing out

Conor didn’t look at them again. Not Ronan. Not Emma. They were no longer worth his attention. He turned. And walked away. Just like that. Leaving them behind. — The hallway was dim and silent. The destruction stretched further than the entrance—doors ajar, walls scuffed, traces of force everywhere. Conor moved through it without hesitation. His eyes were scanning and his mind was calculating. Then— A faint sound. A weak, uneven breath. Conor’s steps stopped. He turned his head slightly. There. Near the side corridor— A figure slumped against the wall. A housemaid. Bruised. Clothes disheveled. Barely conscious. Conor closed the distance in two strides and crouched down. “Hey.” No response. Her head lolled slightly. He reached out, steady but firm, tapping her cheek lightly. “Stay with me.” A weak groan escaped her lips. Her eyelids fluttered. “…M-ma’am…” she mumbled instinctively. Conor’s voice cut in, controlled. “Lo