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253
Author: Magical Inspirations
last update2025-11-30 23:43:34

Ron allowed himself a small, controlled smile, tilting his chin up proudly. “It was easy,” he said smoothly, as if stating a simple fact. “People believe what feels comfortable. And they hate asking questions.”

Marco joined in, smirking wide, his hands clasped behind his back in mock admiration. “You speak better lies than any politician I’ve ever seen. Not one person suspects a thing. Not one! They don’t even consider that we might have orchestrated the whole performance.”

Ron’s smile sharpened, a faint edge of steel cutting through it. “Comfortable lies. Truth is inconvenient. People want a savior—they’ll ignore the cracks in the mask. It’s simple psychology.”

Vito appeared beside them, swirling a glass of deep red wine like he was already celebrating at someone else’s funeral. “You destroyed them,” he said, his voice low, amused, and sharp as a knife. “A clean, perfect execution. Every move timed. Every response calculated. They never had a chance.”

Ron felt electricity rush throug
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  • 261

    Hugo laughed, a deep, rolling sound that seemed to shake the crystal chandeliers overhead. He slapped his knee, eyes glinting with unrestrained triumph. “Yes! Finally! Nothing can touch us now. Everything is in place. And thanks to everyone here, especially you, Ron, it’s all done perfectly. Every single move executed flawlessly.” Ron smiled, smoothly accepting the praise, his eyes scanning the room like a predator surveying territory. “It was a team effort, of course,” he said, voice warm, smooth, practiced. “But… I’d be lying if I didn’t admit a little guidance helped along the way.” He raised a hand modestly, eliciting laughter from Hugo and Marco. Gary Watson, sitting back in his chair with a glass of dark red wine, leaned forward, voice precise and controlled. “To victory,” he said simply, each word measured, deliberate, slicing through the noise of celebration like a blade. The group clinked glasses, the sharp chime ringing through the hall, laughter echoing and mingling with

  • 261

    Her father’s voice, rough and shaky, cut through the night air, trembling as if the words themselves carried the weight of everything they had endured. “We… we thought… we lost you both. We… we can’t… we can’t let this happen again.” Elsa’s chest tightened, her heart still pounding as adrenaline and fear lingered like a storm cloud above her. The cold night air bit into her cheeks, but she barely noticed. She could feel the warmth of her parents’ presence, fragile but real, their lives saved by the narrowest margins. Ethan stepped forward, his expression hardening, the steel in his eyes returning as though tempered by every danger they had faced that night. “It won’t,” he said, low and steady. “I promise. They won’t get another chance. Not at us. Not at anyone who belongs to me.” For a long moment, Elsa simply sat there, crouched on the ground with both her parents pressed close to her. She could feel their exhaustion radiating through their bodies, the tension of weeks compressed

  • 260

    Outside, the night air bit into Elsa’s cheeks—sharp, cold, unforgiving. But she didn’t feel any of it. Her eyes were locked on the emergency vehicle parked ahead, its headlights slicing through the darkness like harsh, unblinking eyes.Her parents.Their silhouettes were faint behind the medics working around them. That was all she could see. All she cared about.Her body moved on instinct, each step fueled by adrenaline and terror, her legs threatening to give out but pushed forward by sheer desperation.As she got closer, the scene sharpened into focus.Her mother lay on a stretcher, skin frighteningly pale, lips cracked, eyes half-lidded as if she were drifting somewhere far beyond the pain. Her chest rose and fell shallowly, every breath fragile and uncertain.Her father—still tied at the wrists but freed enough to stand—paced in jagged lines, eyes wild with panic as he hovered between the medics and the open car door. He flinched every time someone spoke, every time a machine bee

  • 259

    There, in the center of the dimly lit living room, were her parents.Tied tightly, ropes cutting into their wrists and ankles, their bodies slumped against each other for support. Faces pale, streaked with tears, bruised from struggling against their restraints. Exhaustion clung to them like a heavy fog.Elsa’s heart stopped. Her eyes widened, unable to fully process the impossible: the people her uncle had kidnapped, the two figures her team had warned her about… were her parents.Her mind raced. Shock slammed into her chest, and the world seemed to tilt. Every detail assaulted her senses: the stark room, the ropes, the fear etched into her parents’ faces, Ethan’s calm determination nearby, and the looming danger that had followed them here.Her chest heaved, shallow breaths ripping through her lungs. For a moment, the ground seemed to shift beneath her, and her legs betrayed her.One trembling step.Then another.Her knees buckled. She gasped sharply, clutching the edge of a nearby

  • 258

    “Ethan… what should we do now?”Elsa’s voice trembled. She hadn’t recovered from the attack or the chaos of the day — everything that she thought she understood about her life was collapsing piece by piece.Ethan didn’t answer right away. His mind was still racing, trying to make sense of the Bellanos’ move, Ron’s betrayal, the sudden freefall of Nova — all the destruction aimed at him.Then—Bzzt! Bzzt!His phone buzzed violently in his pocket.He frowned, glancing at the screen. It was a call from one of his most trusted men — someone who never contacted him unless something crucial was at stake.He snatched up the phone. “I hope you have some great news,” he said flatly. “If not… hang up right now.”“Sir, I do have great news,” the man replied. His voice was quick — urgent. “You asked me to look closely into Ron Logan… and I found something.”Ethan straightened slightly. “Go on.”There was hesitation — which Ethan did not like.“It’s… well… worse than we thought. Ron didn’t just be

  • 257

    With that, Ron began his descent down the stairs. Each step was measured, deliberate, echoing softly in the otherwise silent mansion. His posture was perfect, precise, radiating a calm confidence that made the air itself seem to bend around him.Elsa’s father’s eyes widened in terror and disbelief. His voice trembled as he whispered, barely able to form the words: “He… he’s… he’s really doing it. My own brother… my wife… he… he’s the one who… he’s the one who did this…”His wife’s body curled slightly in her chair, trembling under the weight of despair. Sobs shook her entire frame. “Elsa… my baby… he’s… he’s saying she’s dead…” Her voice cracked like glass.Ron reached the bottom of the stairs, moving with deliberate grace, composed, polished, emanating quiet authority. The faint scent of expensive cologne drifted behind him, a subtle reminder of control, of power.He paused for a long, deliberate moment, allowing them to drink in his presence, to feel the full magnitude of the fear h

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