The Paralyzed Man's Revenge

Allies And The Past

“The detective is clever, but he is still playing by human rules,” Arthur whispered as he watched the monitor flicker red.

His hands moved swiftly over the holographic keyboard projected by the system. The black van glided quietly through the narrow alleys on the outskirts of Edinburgh, avoiding the city’s surveillance cameras, now fully under Detective Fiona’s control.

Police route encryption successfully diverted, Sir. The van’s current position has been detected five miles in the opposite direction, the system reported in a cold, emotionless voice.

Arthur smirked faintly, his eyes flashing with cold satisfaction. “Good. Let her chase shadows. We have a more urgent agenda tonight. What about Evelyn Rose’s data?”

Data d******d is one hundred percent complete. Original documents from Blue Velvet Lounge, 1998, are ready for distribution. Proceed to dissemination phase?

“Not yet,” Arthur replied. He leaned back against the plush seat, closing his eyes for a moment as he pictured the face of the woman who had destroyed his mother’s life. “Evelyn loves her image. She spent twenty years scrubbing the smell of cigarette smoke and sweat from her skin, replacing it with expensive perfume and social status. I want her to feel what it is like when that filth clings to her again, little by little.”

Arthur opened a digital folder filled with old photographs. In them, a young woman with heavy makeup and revealing clothes danced beneath the dim lights of a low-class nightclub. No one would guess that the dancer with the stage name Rose was now the respectable Mrs. McAlister.

“Send her original identity documents to Lady Margaret. Make sure she receives them right in the middle of her afternoon tea,” Arthur ordered.

Command received. Sending anonymous package through Margaret Sutherland’s encrypted communication channel.

“Why Lady Margaret, Sir?” the system asked, as if it possessed a trace of programmed curiosity.

Arthur laughed, a sound like metal scraping sharply. “Because Margaret is the queen of gossip in Edinburgh. If she knows a secret this big, within an hour, every board member and every investor’s wife connected to McAlister will know. Evelyn will not be able to hide behind her silk gowns anymore.”

Meanwhile, in the grand McAlister Mansion, Evelyn stood before the large mirror in her dressing room. She wore an emerald evening gown custom-made in Paris. Tonight was the annual charity gala she had orchestrated to strengthen her position within the elite circle.

“Has Julian not come home yet?” Evelyn asked her maid without turning. Her voice was sharp, carrying the anxiety she tried to conceal.

“Not yet, Madam. Young Master Julian’s phone is still unreachable,” the maid replied with her head bowed.

Evelyn scoffed, her long fingers brushing the diamond necklace at her throat. “That boy always creates trouble at the worst time. He is probably drunk somewhere. Send the security team to find him quietly. I do not want any additional scandals tonight.”

Suddenly, Evelyn’s phone, lying on the vanity table, vibrated. A message notification appeared. Evelyn frowned when she saw the sender’s name. Lady Margaret.

“What does that old woman want now?” Evelyn muttered with disdain. She opened the message, expecting another polite invitation.

But as her eyes scanned the screen, the color drained from her face. The message contained only a single sentence: Is this you, Evelyn? Or should I call you Rose?

Beneath it was a digital photo she recognized all too well. A picture of herself from twenty-five years ago, holding a cheap bottle of whiskey, with a Blue Velvet Lounge banner in the background.

Evelyn’s hands trembled violently. The phone nearly slipped from her grasp. “How is this possible... I destroyed all those documents...”

“Madam? Are you all right?” the maid asked, stepping closer with a worried expression.

“Get out! Get out right now!” Evelyn roared, spinning around with wild, wide eyes.

After the maid fled in fear, Evelyn collapsed into her chair. Her breathing grew ragged. The paranoia she had buried deep within began to rise like a monster from the ocean floor. She immediately called her husband, Alistair.

“Alistair! Someone... someone has those photos!” Evelyn screamed as soon as the call connected.

“What photos? Evelyn, speak clearly. I am in an important meeting with Japanese investors!” Alistair replied impatiently.

“Rose! They know about Rose! Lady Margaret just sent me a message. She knows everything, Alistair! You have to do something. Shut down the internet, sue her, do anything!”

Silence lingered on the other end of the line. “Margaret? You mean Margaret Sutherland? Evelyn, if this is true, the company’s reputation will collapse within minutes. You said you had taken care of all the witnesses from the past!”

“I did! I swear I did! I do not know where this photo came from,” Evelyn sobbed. She began pacing the room, feeling as though the walls of the luxurious mansion were closing in on her.

“I will send a cyber team. Stay there and do not speak to anyone. I am coming home now,” Alistair said before ending the call.

Evelyn threw her phone onto the bed. Nausea twisted in her stomach. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Eleanor’s face, Arthur’s mother, staring at her coldly from beyond the grave.

Her phone sounded again. This time it was not a text, but an incoming call from an unknown number.

Evelyn hesitated for a moment, but her curiosity was overpowered by suffocating fear. She answered. “Hello? Who is this? If you want money, just name your price!”

There was no response. Only faint static.

“Hello? Answer me!” Evelyn shouted again.

Then a voice began to play. Not someone speaking live, but a recording.

“Are you sure this poison will not be detected by forensic doctors, Evelyn?”

Evelyn froze. It was Alistair’s voice from the past.

“Of course, darling. This is pure digitalis extract. The symptoms will look like a normal heart attack. Eleanor has had a weak heart for a long time, has she not? No one will suspect anything if she dies in her sleep tonight.”

The voice in the recording was Evelyn’s own. Younger, crueler, filled with ruthless ambition.

“And her son? Arthur?” Alistair’s voice asked.

“He is still a child. After his mother dies, we can send him to a boarding school or let him rot in a corner of this mansion. He is not a threat to our future.”

The recording ended with Evelyn’s soft, chilling laughter.

Evelyn collapsed onto the floor, covering her ears with both hands. “Stop! Who are you? Turn it off!”

“Hello, Stepmother,” a deep, cold baritone voice suddenly came through the still-active phone on the floor.

Evelyn flinched, staring at the phone as if it were a venomous snake. “Arthur? No... you are dead! I saw your car destroyed! You cannot be alive!”

“Death is a very cold place, Evelyn. But the warmth of vengeance kept me alive,” Arthur replied calmly, his voice a stark contrast to Evelyn’s hysterical screams. “How does it feel? Watching your sandcastle begin to crumble? Those documents are only the beginning. Lady Margaret is just one of many who would like to see you fall.”

“What do you want? Money? I will give you all the McAlister wealth! Take it! Just... please do not do this to me,” Evelyn pleaded, her pride shattered across the marble floor.

“Money cannot buy my mother’s life, Evelyn. Money cannot fix Lily’s legs, the ones you destroyed through Julian,” Arthur said. “I do not want your wealth. I want to see you lose everything you hold dear. Your reputation, your position, your sanity... and finally, your life.”

“You devil! You monster!”

“I am your creation, Evelyn. Remember that every time you look into the mirror,” Arthur whispered. “Oh, and one more thing. The charity gala begins in two hours, does it not? I suggest you wear very heavy makeup. Tears will ruin your appearance in front of the cameras.”

Click. The line went dead.

Evelyn screamed at the top of her lungs, a long cry filled with despair and madness. She sprang to her feet and rushed to her vanity, smashing her expensive perfumes and cosmetics.

“He is alive... he is back... he is going to kill me!” she babbled. Her carefully styled hair was now disheveled, covering her pale face.

Inside the van, Arthur removed his headset and exhaled slowly. He looked at the monitor displaying Evelyn’s fear metrics, now spiking to maximum levels.

Fear Points collected: 4,500. ‘Mental Breakdown’ bonus activated. Would you like to use the points to upgrade the ‘Mind Illusion’ skill, Sir?

“Do it,” Arthur answered briefly. “The night is not over. We need to make sure this charity gala becomes an unforgettable night for the entire city of Edinburgh.”

Arthur started the van again, heading toward the city center. In his mind, he had already mapped out the next scenario. He would not let Evelyn die quickly. He wanted her to live in fear every second, to feel that every shadow in the corner of the room was him coming to collect the debt.

As he crossed a large bridge overlooking the McAlister Mansion, Arthur saw the lights flicker on one by one, preparing for the party. But in his eyes, the mansion no longer looked like a palace. It was nothing more than a massive tomb waiting to be sealed.

Arthur turned on the radio. A calm classical song filled the van’s cabin. He hummed along softly, his fingers tapping the steering wheel in steady rhythm. In the distance, police sirens echoed, perhaps triggered by Alistair’s growing panic or reports of Julian’s mysterious accident in the forest.

“Lily, are you watching?” Arthur whispered to himself, glancing at a small photo of his sister taped to the dashboard. “I will make them all pay. One by one.”

Suddenly, his system issued a new alert. Anomaly detected. Someone is attempting to trace the Sovereign channel from inside McAlister Mansion.

Arthur frowned. “Alistair has a capable cyber expert?”

Not Alistair, Sir. This encryption comes from a different device. Someone with a hidden identity is attempting to track our physical location.

“Trace it back,” Arthur ordered firmly. “I want to know who dares to play with fire.”

The monitor filled with rapidly scrolling lines of complex green code. Arthur watched closely as his system broke through the opponent’s defenses. At last, a name appeared on the screen.

Identity detected: Kai. Independent hacker working for a third party.

Arthur fell silent. He knew that name. Kai was one of the most wanted hackers by Interpol, a genius who usually worked for major shadow organizations. Why was he here? And who was paying him?

“Looks like this chessboard is more crowded than I thought,” Arthur murmured. He pressed the accelerator harder, sending the van speeding into the night.

At the same time, Evelyn, still in her room, began to hear strange sounds. Footsteps crossing the thick carpet, even though the room was empty. Whispering voices, Eleanor’s voice, calling her name from behind the mirror.

She stared at the large mirror before her with bloodshot eyes. Slowly, the reflection began to change. Evelyn’s beautiful face cracked, replaced by Eleanor’s blood-covered face, smiling at her sweetly.

“You... you are not real!” Evelyn hurled a crystal glass at the mirror.

Crash!

The glass shattered, along with the expensive mirror cracking apart. But Eleanor’s reflection did not disappear. Instead, every shard of glass on the floor now showed Eleanor’s eyes, staring at Evelyn with hatred.

Evelyn dropped to her knees on the broken shards, ignoring the pain cutting into her skin. She began to laugh to herself, a mad laughter echoing through the room, which now felt like her personal hell.

Outside, Alistair’s car had just entered the mansion gates. He stepped out in a hurry, followed by several men dressed in black carrying cyber equipment. But his steps halted when he heard his wife’s screams and laughter from upstairs.

Alistair looked up at Evelyn’s bedroom window, where the lights flickered erratically. A sense of dread crept into his heart. It felt as though he was not entering his own home, but a massive trap prepared over many years.

“Get inside! Secure all data!” Alistair shouted to his men.

But just as they were about to pass through the front door, all the electricity in the mansion went out completely. A suffocating silence fell, leaving only the sound of the night wind whistling through the old trees.

Then, from the darkness inside the mansion, the sound of phone notifications rang out simultaneously from the pockets of all of Alistair’s guards.

Alistair pulled out his phone with trembling hands. On the screen, a single message appeared, set against a photo of Arthur wearing a cold smile.

Welcome to your destruction party, Father.