2025-01-20 16:44:00The atmosphere in the Rolls-Royce was tense. Dylan sat in silence, his jaw clenched as the weight of his recent phone call with Jane lingered. Sensing his unease, John Nelson leaned forward, his face dark with anger.
“Young Master,” John said, his voice low and serious, “after hearing how your ex-wife treated you and Molly, I have to ask—should we reconsider this cooperation with her company? People like her don’t deserve your help.”
Dylan’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at John. “John, I'm always happy to help my wife's company. But now...Jane is not my wife anymore.”
His voice was calm, but his words carried a firm edge.
John nodded in understanding, his expression thoughtful. “I see.”
The convoy arrived at the grand entrance of the Royal Elysian Hotel, where a red carpet had been rolled out. Luxury cars lined the driveway, with elegantly dressed guests mingling outside.
John glanced at his granddaughter Helen, who had remained quiet the entire ride. Her shyness was evident, but John saw this as an opportunity to let her spend more time with Dylan.
“Helen,” John said gently, “why don’t you accompany the Young Master inside? I’ll handle the business side of things with Jane’s company for now.”
Helen’s cheeks flushed pink, but she nodded obediently. “Of course, Grandpa.”
John stepped out of the car first, flanked by several attendants. Dylan exited next, holding Molly’s hand, followed closely by Helen.
As John walked away with his aides, Dylan and Helen made their way into the hotel. The grandeur of the lobby was breathtaking—crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, and marble floors gleamed under the warm lights.
But the moment they stepped inside, Dylan’s expression darkened. Across the lobby, Jane stood in an elegant emerald gown, her hair styled perfectly, her makeup immaculate. Beside her was a chubby man in a poorly fitted suit, whose gold watch seemed comically oversized for his wrist. His confident smirk gave him an air of self-importance that clashed with the sophistication of the surroundings.
Dylan sighed, hoping to avoid a confrontation, but Jane’s sharp eyes caught sight of him. Her expression twisted in anger, and she stormed toward him, her heels clicking loudly against the marble floor.
“You!” Jane spat, pointing an accusing finger at Dylan. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby guests and security.
Dylan looked at Jane. He had never imagined that the kind girl he once deeply loved would turn out like this.
His jaw tightened, and he replied coolly, “I don’t think I owe you an explanation.”
Jane’s face turned red with fury. “Don’t lie to me! You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you? How else would a nobody like you end up in a place like this?”
Dylan sighed, his patience wearing thin. “Stalking you? Don’t flatter yourself. I was invited here by the Nelson family to have a meal.”
Jane let out a harsh laugh, loud enough to draw the attention of nearby guests, and the chubby man beside her joined in, his round belly shaking.
“By the Nelson family?” Jane sneered. “Dylan, do you hear yourself? The Nelsons don’t associate with people like you.”
The chubby man stepped forward, puffing out his chest, his smirk widening. “Is this your ex-husband, Jane? The one you told me about? He doesn’t look like much.”
Jane crossed her arms and sneered. “That’s him. Dylan Grenville. A broke, useless man with no status or money. He’s probably here to cause trouble.”
Dylan met Jane’s scornful gaze, his expression unchanging. “Believe what you want,” he said indifferently. “I have no reason to explain myself to you.”
The man still smirking said, “allow me to introduce myself. I’m Bobby Jackson, a billionaire entrepreneur and someone who’s very well-acquainted with the Nelsons. If you really were invited by them, I’d know.”
“In fact, I can call them right now and confirm whether you’re telling the truth.” He continued.
Dylan remained unfazed. “Believe what you want,” he repeated calmly.
Jane smirked, placing a hand on Bobby’s arm. “Bobby’s the one who helped me secure the cooperation with the Nelson family,” she said proudly. “You think you can compete with him? Don’t make me laugh.”
Around them, murmurs of admiration rose from onlookers.
“She’s with Bobby Jackson? Isn’t he one of the city’s richest men?”
“No wonder she’s so confident. Her ex-husband looks like a joke next to him.”
Dylan’s lips curled into a faint smile, but he said nothing.
Helen, who had been silent until now, couldn’t contain herself any longer. She suddenly burst into laughter, the sound light but unmistakably mocking.
It was so funny for Helen because she knew the Nelson family was only cooperating with Jane for Dylan's sake and now she was saying this nonsense.
Everyone turned to look at her. Jane’s eyes narrowed, and her voice dripped with venom. “And who is she? Your new girlfriend, Dylan? Is this why you’ve been acting so bold lately? Have you been cheating on me all along?”
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The rusted gate groaned on its hinges as Vivian slipped through first, weapon sweeping left to right. The tunnel beyond was dim and dripping—cracked floor lights flickered beneath a thin layer of murky water.Dylan followed close behind, every step tense. “Where would they even keep a hostage down here?”Vivian checked her scanner. “No signals. Could be storage. Boiler rooms. N7 means sector seven—probably retrofitted an old maintenance area.”Then came the sound—fragile, trembling.Muffled sobs.Childlike.Vivian’s posture straightened, boots splashing faster through the shallow puddles.Dylan’s breath hitched. “Molly?”From the shadows, a hunched figure recoiled, then stumbled. A little girl—bloodied knees, tangled hair, duct tape dangling from one wrist.“Molly!” Dylan choked, rushing past Vivian.The girl lifted her head—dazed, eyes searching. Then they locked on him.“Daddy?”He dropped his weapon without hesitation, falling to his knees and pulling her into his arms. “Oh God. Mo
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Mara pointed behind the living room sofa. “They installed a small mic unit—wired into the wall.” Vivian stared. “So they’ve had eyes and ears inside for longer than we thought.” Dylan said quietly, “We’re in a goddamn fishbowl.” Marie called out suddenly. “I’ve got movement on CCTV. Pause it.” She stuck a headset on. Vivian and Dylan leaned in as flickering frames advanced. They saw Garren walking through the corridor, just past midnight two nights ago. In his hand was a small device—and he slipped into the bathroom, just as AlphaGhost was being installed. Vivian’s voice went cold. “Pause. Zoom.” Marie did. Garren clicked a panel, pulled a small drive from under the sink. Dylan’s eyes went wide. “That’s BIOS level.” Vivian said flatly: “He had physical access. He’s the one who planted the software. And the burner.” Silence hung. Marie whispered, “He pinged HQ. That’s how they knew to hit us.” Dylan pressed forward. “We take him alive. We need answers, locations. He’s the
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She tapped the screen. The message opened, the pin marking them as the target. Vivian swallowed and reached for her comm. “Dylan,” she called out, voice taut. He appeared in the doorway seconds later, rifle raised. “What is it?” Vivian didn’t look away from the phone. She whispered, “We’ve got a mole.” “What?” A moment passed. “Someone in the apartment pinged their position.” She slid the burner across the desk in silent accusation. “From inside.” Dylan’s face drained. “But we swept three times—no outsiders.” “Unless someone from our own did it,” Vivian said. Marie and Mara arrived, eyes widening. Mara said softly, “Helen’s last words…” Vivian cut her off. “Exactly.” Marie said, half to herself, “We bled together. We risked our lives.” She squared her shoulders. “But if someone inside fed them?” Vivian closed her eyes and replied, “And it’s not one of us, it’s someone with access to HQ intel. The burner phone was planted, or slipped in.” Dylan rubbed his temple. “Theta-9
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Suddenly, another figure emerged from the smoke — tall, broad-shouldered, but cautious. Mask down, face shadowed but unmistakable in the dim light. The last intruder. Dylan leveled his rifle. “Who sent you?” he demanded, voice low but fierce, like the growl of a cornered animal. The man sneered, lips curling. “Viktor.” The name hit Dylan like a punch to the gut — Viktor. The puppeteer behind the relentless attacks, the dark force pulling strings. “Viktor’s orders,” the man spat, stepping forward. Dylan’s grip tightened on the rifle, eyes narrowing. “You’re done here.” The intruder lunged, knife flashing. Dylan sidestepped smoothly, ducking the blow. With a brutal uppercut, he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, cracking bone. The attacker staggered but recovered quickly, swinging wildly. Dylan’s breath was heavy, heart pounding thunderously in his chest. The fight wasn’t just survival anymore — it was retribution. He feinted left, then drove his knee into the intruder’s ri
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“It’s not going to hold,” Vivian warned. “They’re pushing teams in waves.”“Then we buy time,” Dylan said, voice low. “I’ll use the front to distract again. Vivian, watch the rear. Mara, get Helen across the threshold to the living room.”Dylan sprinted to the front room, rifle raised. He swept in a wide arc, firing through the bookshelf gap. Two intruders advanced—he dropped one, grazed the other.A third stepped behind him. Dylan turned and struck with the rifle’s butt, sending the man reeling backward. A gasp, a crash, and Dylan vaulted past him, the path now cleared.“Go! Move!” he roared, signaling the others.Vivian switched to a side door guard, rifle scanning. Marie rushed to Mara’s side, helping carry Helen through the living room toward a sturdied doorway entry.Smoke drifted sideways from the hallway into the kitchen. They regrouped behind the solid wood counter.“Everyone good?” Dylan asked, catching his breath.Marie checked Helen’s pulse. “Weak, but holding. We need to c
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⸻The moment the masked men burst in, Dylan was already moving.“Down!” he shouted, diving to the side and kicking the coffee table over for makeshift cover. Bullets ripped through plaster as Vivian returned fire with deadly precision, crouched behind the kitchen island.“Three hostiles!” Vivian barked, her voice sharp as she took another shot. “No insignia. No hesitation. They’re professionals.”“On it,” Dylan growled, vaulting over the couch. He slammed into one of the intruders, elbows-first, driving his knee into the man’s side before twisting the rifle from his hands in a fluid motion. Crack! The rifle clattered across the hardwood.“Nice,” Vivian called. “Keep them busy!”The second masked man lunged at Dylan with a baton. He ducked low—Mara, still crouching protectively over Helen near the far wall, lashed out with a metal tray, smacking the attacker across the jaw.“Get your hands off my patient,” she hissed, voice tight.“Mara, back!” Dylan shouted between gritted teeth, stil
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