2026-06-03 18:10:43
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Ch 110. The Golden Cage
Shards of crystal glass lay scattered across the marble floor like a spray of worthless diamonds. Emily was still kneeling, her body trembling so violently that the sound of her teeth chattering echoed through the oppressive silence of the dining room. In front of her, Eduardo stood tall, his shadow stretching across the wall as though death itself had taken the form of a white-haired man. "Ed... just listen to me first..." Emily crawled forward, trying to grab the tip of Eduardo's shoe with hands still wet from the poisoned wine. "They... they forced me! Vanya said if I didn't do it, they'd kidnap Chloe from her dorm! I did it for our daughter, Ed! I swear!" Eduardo stared at Emily's hand. To his pitch-black eyes, her movements seemed slow, layered with lie upon lie. He no longer felt the burning anger he once would have. The pain of betrayal? Gone. The System had already consumed that emotion as the price of his previous power. "Belerik al
Ch 109. Poison in a Kiss
The crystal chandelier hanging above the main dining hall of Sark Tower glowed dimly, casting long shadows across the white marble table that resembled the fingers of demons. The atmosphere that night was unnervingly quiet, interrupted only by the soft clinking of silver forks against porcelain plates. At one end of the table sat Eduardo, his back straight, his black suit standing in stark contrast to his increasingly pale face. At the opposite end sat Emily, dressed in a blood-red silk gown. Her blonde hair was styled to perfection, giving the impression that the betrayal at the docks had been nothing more than a forgotten nightmare. Between them stood a bottle of 1945 Romanée-Conti, proud and imposing, as though serving as the referee to the frozen tension hanging in the room. "Why'd you suddenly invite me to dinner, Em?" Eduardo's voice emerged heavy and hoarse, carrying a cold metallic echo. Emily smiled. A smile that once could have made Eduardo willi
Ch 108. A Letter From the Commission
The top floor of Sark Tower felt like a coffin made of glass and steel that night. Eduardo sat behind his mahogany desk, its surface now riddled with holes from splashes of his corrosive black blood. In his hand, he held a thin sheet of dried skin, prepared through a horrifying process and covered in elegant gold-ink calligraphy. The scent of embalming chemicals and sharp metallic tang filled his increasingly dulled senses. Across from him, Belerik and Gord stood in silence. Belerik kept adjusting his glasses, while Gord couldn't stop fiddling with the trigger of the light machine gun slung over his shoulder. "Human skin parchment," Eduardo hissed. His voice sounded like two rusted blades scraping against each other. "Classic. Do they really think they're living in the Middle Ages?" "That's not just skin, Ed," Belerik said, his voice trembling. "It belonged to our informant in Paris who disappeared two days ago. The Commission. The five major Godfathers of Euro
Ch 107. The Puppet Rebels
The air in the Swiss Alps should have felt fresh and pure, yet for Eduardo, every breath felt like inhaling burning shards of glass. The private jet helicopter bearing the silver wolf insignia landed gracefully on the runway of Institut Le Rosey, the most expensive and exclusive boarding school in the world. Eduardo stepped down from the aircraft. His black suit stood in stark contrast against the snow blanketing the campus grounds. His hair had nearly turned completely white, and his skin carried an unhealthy grayish hue. Behind him, Gord followed with heavy footsteps, carrying a suitcase filled with "hush money," something that always seemed necessary whenever the Godfather's daughter caused trouble. "I hate this place, Ed," Gord muttered, pulling his fur-lined jacket tighter around himself. "Smells like rich kids who've never had the crap beaten out of them by dockyard thugs. Too sterile." "Shut up, Gord," Eduardo replied flatly. He pressed a handker
Ch 106. Black Blood on Silk
Six months had passed since the ruins of Vladimir Villa became the gravestone of the old era. Now, Rome had truly bent the knee beneath the shadow of Sark Tower. Eduardo sat behind his massive black teak desk, surrounded by dozens of monitors displaying port logistics charts stretching from Rotterdam to Marseille. The gold pen in his hand moved with machine-like precision, signing the acquisition documents for the last commercial port in Northern Italy. Yet the white silk shirt he wore felt increasingly loose on his frame. His marble-pale face had grown even gaunter, and the white hair at his temples had spread across nearly his entire head, leaving only a small patch of black at the back. Cough! Cough! Eduardo flinched. He covered his mouth with his left hand, the one that had only four fingers. The cough came from the deepest part of his lungs, burning and stabbing through him like rusted steel thorns. When he pulled his hand away, his pitch-b
Ch 105. The Peak of the World
Tonight, Rome no longer slept beneath the shadow of its glorious history. The Eternal City seemed to kneel beneath the feet of the most arrogant skyscraper in the central district, Sark Tower. Thousands of searchlights split the night sky, creating a canopy of light visible from dozens of miles away. In front of the main entrance, a procession of bulletproof limousines stretched across two city blocks. Men wearing suits worth thousands of euros and women carrying diamonds as heavy as their sins stepped out with a mixture of reverence and pure fear. Inside the Grand Ballroom on the top floor, the atmosphere felt heavier than a papal funeral. No laughter erupted. No cheerful clinking of glasses filled the air. Only hushed whispers in a dozen different European languages. "Jesus... I feel like I'm standing in a museum full of corpses," Gord muttered, adjusting the bow tie strangling his neck. He stood beside the main stage, holding a gold-plated submachine gun
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