2025-12-13 17:20:39
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Chapter One Hundred and Seven
“Let’s go now,” Melinda whispered, her voice low and unsteady despite how tightly she was holding herself together. “I’m sure he won’t find me.” She barely recognized her own voice. It sounded distant to her ears, like it belonged to someone else—someone braver, someone already halfway gone. Her hands were clasped together in her lap, fingers locked so tightly they ached. She didn’t loosen them. If she did, she feared she would start shaking again. The stranger in the driver’s seat hesitated. She could feel it in the way the car remained still, the engine idling too quietly for the chaos unfolding behind them. He glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his eyes searching her face as though he were weighing whether to ask another question, whether to stop her, whether to turn around. But he said nothing. He didn’t move either. Melinda didn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed ahead, past the windshield, toward the house that had once trapped her inside its walls. From where they w
Chapter One Hundred and Six
For a fraction of a second, Sonia didn’t react at all. She stood there as if her body had forgotten how to move, how to respond. Then her eyes focused properly on the phone in Damian’s hand. And she saw it. Whatever color had still been clinging to her face drained away so fast it was almost unsettling to watch. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Her eyes widened—not in anger this time, not in defiance or irritation—but in something exposed and unguarded. It was the kind of reaction that happened before a person had time to think, before they could put their defenses back in place. “Enhhhhh…” The sound slipped out of her without permission, uneven and breathy, more reflex than response. The moment the sound left her mouth, she seemed to realize what she had done. Her jaw tightened. She swallowed hard, her throat working visibly, and she looked away, turning her face slightly as if the screen itself was too much to bear. Her fingers twitched at her sides, opening and closing o
Chapter One Hundred and Five
Damian knocked on the door and waited. When there was no response, he knocked again, slower this time, his knuckles rapping against the wood with deliberate restraint, as if giving her a second chance to answer before he allowed himself to worry. He held his breath without realizing it, listening for any sound from inside. “Sonia,” he called out. His voice was even, controlled, but beneath it ran a thread of tension he couldn’t quite mask, no matter how much he tried. There was still nothing. The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable. Damian frowned slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows. She had come upstairs earlier and shut herself in—at least, that was what he had assumed. He stayed where he was for a few more seconds, listening intently, hoping for something small and ordinary: the shuffle of feet, the soft creak of the bed, the sound of a drawer opening. Anything that would confirm she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Nothing came. His unease
Chapter One Hundred and Four
Back at the mansion, Damian stood in his father’s chambers, trying to steady his breathing. His eyes kept darting from the phone in his hand to the Patriarch and back again. His palms were damp, but he clasped his hands behind his back to hide it. He could feel the tension pooling in his chest, that familiar tightness he always felt when he was seconds away from disappointing the one man he shouldn’t. “Who took it?” the Patriarch asked again, his tone sharper, quieter, more controlled—the kind of control that meant he was two steps away from exploding. “No one,” Damian answered. His father stared at him like he had lost his mind. “What do you mean no one?” Damian shifted slightly, forcing his voice to stay steady. “The CCTV stopped recording when we left.” The Patriarch’s expression hardened immediately. His jaw ticked, the muscle twitching—Damian knew that sign too well. That was the expression he wore when he felt insulted, when he felt lied to, when he believed someone under
Chapter One Hundred and Three
Ramon got into the car heading back to the house to save Melinda or rather see who was breaking in or if she was breaking out, and trying to leave like she did before. He threw himself into the driver’s seat, hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped the keys. His chest felt tight—too tight—as if every breath had to fight its way out. He tried to shove the key into the ignition, but it kept slipping between his trembling fingers. Sweat clung to his palms, making everything worse. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath, voice uneven, breath shaky. Davis followed him and slipped into the passenger seat, still slightly out of breath. “You were trying to leave without me, weren’t you?” he said, watching Ramon closely. Ramon didn’t respond. He didn’t even look at him. His hands were shaking too hard, his jaw locked tight as he fought to get the key into the ignition. It kept slipping, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. After what felt like forever, he finally managed to slide the
Chapter One Hundred and Two
Meanwhile, in the mansion, minutes crawled like hours. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of paper, made Damian flinch. The room, once imposing and orderly, now felt impossibly small, almost suffocating, as if the walls themselves were pressing in on him. His pulse drummed relentlessly in his ears, each beat echoing in the quiet like a warning. Sweat slicked his palms despite the heat rising in his cheeks, and his hands shook slightly, betraying the panic he tried to hide. And still… he had found nothing. The glowing blood—the one thing that should never have left his control—was gone. Damian had searched every drawer, every hidden compartment, every possible corner. It was like it had disappeared into thin air. Anxiety clawed at his chest, sharp and unyielding, making it hard to think, let alone speak. Damian straightened slowly, forcing his ragged breaths into shallow, urgent gasps. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as if he could physically rear
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