The Unveiling of Truth
last update2025-01-20 17:00:04

Chapter 7: The Unveiling of Truth

The laughter from Bobby and Jane echoed across the room as Vivian's words settled in. They had been nervous but now appeared gleeful, their smugness filling the space. Dylan remained unmoved, his calm expression betraying none of the tension in the room.

As the security guards advanced, Helen raised a hand, stopping them in their tracks. "Don’t you dare touch me," she said, her voice icy and commanding. "Vivian Grey, is it?" Helen’s lips curled in a mocking smile. "Let me remind you that your audacity to disrespect me is not just foolish—it’s career-ending."

Vivian’s smile didn’t falter. "A career-ending mistake? You, a stranger who dares to impersonate a Nelson, will teach me that?" Her tone was dripping with sarcasm.

Helen’s smirk deepened, her confidence unwavering. "Impersonate?" she repeated, her voice laced with disdain. "Perhaps you’ve forgotten the concept of discretion. Let me educate you." Helen folded her arms, her gaze piercing. "I was sent abroad at a young age, Vivian. While you were busy managing hotels, I was navigating circles you could only dream of."

The crowd murmured, torn between doubt and curiosity.

Vivian crossed her arms, her expression hardening. "If you were truly a Nelson, I would know. Every member of that family is accounted for in my records. Do you think dropping vague hints about being ‘sent abroad’ will fool anyone here?" She stepped closer, her tone sharp. "You and your friend here are frauds. I’m done entertaining this farce."

Helen raised a brow, her calm demeanor infuriating Vivian. "You seem awfully confident for someone who clearly hasn’t done her homework," she said coolly. "But go ahead. Continue your little performance. It’s amusing."

Vivian clenched her jaw. "Security, I said get them out!"

The guards hesitated, but Dylan’s calm voice stopped them. "You might want to reconsider that," he said, his tone casual but firm. "Escorting out the wrong people could be very bad for your image, Vivian."

Jane, who had been watching with folded arms, suddenly interjected, her voice loud and disdainful. "Oh, please, Dylan! Stop this ridiculous act. It’s pathetic." She stepped forward, glaring at him. "You always did have a way of spinning tales, but this one takes the cake. A Nelson? Really? You couldn’t even hold down a job, let alone mingle with people like them."

Dylan turned his gaze to Jane, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. "Ah, Jane," he said, his voice low and measured. "Always quick to assume, never quick to think."

Jane’s face flushed. "Don’t you dare patronize me!" she snapped. "You’re a liar, Dylan. A fraud. I can’t believe I wasted years of my life with you. Divorcing you was the best decision I ever made."

"Is that so?" Dylan replied, his tone as composed as ever.

"Yes, it is!" Jane retorted, her voice rising. "Look at you! You’re a disgrace. And now, trying to pull this ridiculous stunt? Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”

Bobby took Jane’s hand, pulling her closer with a sarcastic laugh that carried across the tense room. His tone was dripping with mock pity. "You know, Jane, I almost feel sorry for them," he said, glancing dismissively at Dylan and Helen. "But honestly, it’s too embarrassing. Let’s not waste another second entertaining this farce."

He leaned in closer to Jane, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for others to hear. "And you, darling, must keep it a secret that *this man* was ever your husband. Imagine the scandal if people found out. It’s bad enough they’ve seen you standing here."

Jane’s lips tightened in frustration, her eyes darting toward the onlookers. "You’re right," she said with a sharp nod. "This is beyond humiliating." She turned to Dylan, her expression icy. "You should have stayed in whatever gutter you crawled out of, Dylan."

Bobby smirked, looking at Dylan as though he were an insect beneath his shoe. "Let’s go back to the banquet hall. Staying here with people like them is making me nauseous."

Jane slipped her arm through Bobby’s, letting him guide her away. She cast one last scornful glance at Dylan and Helen before turning her back on them.

Dylan and Helen, however, remained calmly in place, their composed demeanor a stark contrast to Vivian's rising fury. The security guards hovered uncertainly, awaiting further instructions.

Vivian’s anger finally boiled over. "I’ve had enough of this nonsense," she spat. Turning to the guards, she barked, "Teach them a lesson. Now!"

Helen didn’t flinch. Instead, she calmly reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. Her voice was steady as she spoke into it, "Grandpa? Dylan and I are being kicked out of Royal Elysian Hotel. Apparently, we’re imposters."

The guards paused, looking at one another in confusion as Helen continued to speak. On the other end of the line, John’s voice, though muffled, was clearly alarmed.

"You’re WHAT?!" John’s tone turned sharp, laced with fear. "Stay where you are. We’re coming."

After hearing Helen's words, John was terrified. He immediately alerted the rest of the Nelson family, and, fortunately, they were all nearby the hotel. Without wasting a moment, they rushed toward the scene.

Helen ended the call, slipping her phone back into her bag. She glanced at Dylan, who gave her a small, reassuring nod, then turned her attention back to Vivian.

Vivian sneered. "Calling for backup, are we? Who’s going to save you? A fake Nelson relative? Pathetic."

She turned to the guards again, her voice rising. "Don’t just stand there! Teach them a lesson they’ll never forget."

The guards moved closer, surrounding Dylan and Helen. Their menacing stance made it clear they were ready to act, but the sound of hurried footsteps and sudden commotion at the entrance froze them in place.

Heads turned as a group of people entered—led by a distinguished older man whose very presence commanded respect. Behind him was a cluster of equally poised individuals, their expressions ranging from concern to indignation.

"Stop!" John’s voice rang out, firm and authoritative.

The guards immediately stepped back, their demeanor shifting to unease. Vivian turned, her face draining of color as she recognized the man approaching.

"M-Mr. Nelson!" she stammered, her bravado crumbling. "I—I didn’t know you were here..."

John’s sharp gaze swept across the room, landing on Helen and Dylan. His expression softened ever so slightly as he took them in, unharmed but clearly at the center of the chaos. Then his eyes flicked to Vivian, and his face darkened.

"Care to explain what’s going on here, Vivian?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Vivian quickly bowed, her hands trembling. "Sir, I—these two claimed to be members of your family. I was just... ensuring your name wasn’t tarnished!"

"Tarnished?" Helen interjected with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Grandpa, so I’m not a member of the Nelson family after all?"

John’s jaw tightened as he turned his full attention to Vivian, whose knees visibly buckled under his piercing glare.

"Helen is my granddaughter," John said coldly, each word deliberate and cutting. "And Dylan is my young master. You dare question their place in this family?"

Vivian’s face turned ashen, and cold sweat poured down her temples. She stumbled back, shaking her head in disbelief. "I... I didn’t know... I’m so sorry!" Her voice cracked as she dropped to her knees.

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  • 305

    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

  • 304

    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

  • 303

    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

  • 302

    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

  • 301

    “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

  • 300

    ⸻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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