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CHAPTER 230
The phone rang once. Twice. Then the line clicked."Rita?" the voice was sharp, calm, almost distant, but beneath it, she could hear the undercurrent of exhaustion—the weight of a man who carried more than anyone should."Jeffery..." she whispered, the tension in her throat cracking her voice. "I... I saw the news—about Ronan Blake—""Rita!" his voice snapped suddenly like a whip, cutting through the static of her panic. "Why the hell are you calling me? Didn't I tell you? Stay out of this! Don't reach out! It's not safe at all! You could—""I had to know," she interrupted, tears threatening to spill. "I needed to hear it from you. I couldn't just... sit there and do nothing—"His sigh was long, a mix of frustration, fear, and helplessness. "Do you even understand what you're putting yourself through? Or what you're doing to me by calling? I told you, Rita... this isn't safe. Not for you. Not for anyone. You reach out, and suddenly, you're in the line of fire."She flinched at the raw
CHAPTER 229
Rita sat frozen at her desk, the screen glowing with images she could barely comprehend. The alley, slick with rain, cordoned off by police tape, shattered asphalt reflecting neon light—every detail was seared deeply into her mind. Ronan Blake. Suspected Armed robber. Murdered. J recognizable.Her fingers trembled, hovering over the phone. She wanted to call Jeffery, needed to hear his voice, to confirm that the man loved could never do something so monstrous. To be honest, Jeffery had killed but it had never been brutal like last night's. And it was always because Rita's life had been endangered.But... what if she was wrong? What if he had actually done it? The thought made her stomach twist into knots, bile rising like fire.She pressed her palms to her face, trying to steady her racing heart. Jeffery had warned her countless times: keep your life normal, maintain appearances. Pretend the world doesn't see you as linked to him. That advice had always been theoretical—now it was pai
CHAPTER 228
The office felt suddenly smaller, the air heavier, as the officers stepped closer to Rita's desk. Their presence carried the weight of accusation, the kind that didn't need words to make a heart pound. One of them cleared his throat, his tone careful but unyielding."Miss Stirling, we need to speak about an incident last night," he began, voice low but cutting through the quiet hum of the office. "That's the main reason we actually came here."Rita's eyebrows creased. What were they talking about? What happened last night?"A man was found dead in an alley in the East District," the officer continued. "There were blood spatters, marks everywhere. Whoever did this left the victim... unrecognizable."This doesn't have to do with Jeffery, right? Rita's hands tightened on the edge of her desk. Her voice trembled, disbelief creeping in. "Unrecognizable? What... what are you actually saying?"The second officer leaned in, his gaze sharp, unwavering. "You know Jeffery Flamel, correct?""Yes,
CHAPTER 227
Rita Stirling woke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the curtains of her penthouse, the city below still stirring in its usual rhythm. She lay for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, letting her mind wander to Jeffery. The thought of him still hiding in an unknown place, carrying the weight of suspicion for murders he hadn't committed—one perpetrated by Aadam Prescott—made her chest tighten. She had to appear normal, calmly, unshaken—her every move a shield against the scrutiny that now surrounded.Jeffery had told her this the last moment they had met. He didn't want her being arrested as well. It would really tarnish the name of the Stirling family and affect the company—something which neither of them wanted. So she had agreed to do just as he had said, till everything had been solved. And that included not reaching out to him no matter what.Her morning routine was precise, almost mechanical. Every gesture—sliding into her blazer, adjusting her cuffs, the careful appl
CHAPTER 226
Morning came slow. Not with the violent crash of storms or the roar of lightning, but in muted, hesitant whispers. Sunlight, filtered through the thick clouds, fell in sickly gold silvers across the cracked motel blinds. Dust motes floated in the beams like tiny specters. The room smelled of damp concrete and faint herbs, lingering from the previous night's alchemical work. The faint pulse of the Philosopher's Stone nearby cast its soft glow, as if marking the passage of the night Jeffery had just endured.Jeffery stirred, the weight of exhaustion still draped over him like a second storm. His body ached—the remnants of the storm, of the rooftop confrontation, of controlling the mutated men—aching in quiet, insistent protest. But his mind, though fatigued, had begun to awaken. It prowled, like a wolf stretching after sleep, circling the corners of strategy, probability, and consequence.He sat up slowly, blanket slipping from his shoulders. The cot creaked under his weight, the sound
CHAPTER 225
The rain had subsided, leaving the city slick and glimmering under the faint glow of neon signs. The streets hissed with the last whispers of storm water, gutters carrying secrets down to the sewers.Jeffery moved like a shadow over puddle-slick asphalt, each step slow, deliberate, carrying the exhaustion of a body and mind pushed to their limits.The night's chaos lingered like a phantom across his shoulders. Mutated men had fled; the threat had been defused—for now—but the weight of responsibility pressed against his chest like iron chains. He could feel every pulse of the Philosopher's Stone beneath his coat, a quiet heartbeat echoing the storm that had passed but left scars in its wake.The city smelled of wet concrete and ozone, a scent that always reminded him of beginnings and endings at the same time. He inhaled deeply, letting it fill his lungs, steadying his Qi, centering himself.Every step toward the motel was both relief and dread. Relief because he could finally rest. Dr
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