The Return of the Almighty Dragon Jackal

Chapter 5: SOLD TO THE UNDERWORLD KiNG

The rain whispered against the tall windows as if it knew what secrets were about to be born inside. Carina sat behind Roger’s mahogany desk with a cigarette bleeding smoke into the air. She had never smoked when Roger was alive. Now she needed it, needed something to fill the hollow pit inside her chest.

Papers lay scattered across the desk, red stamps bleeding across their faces. “Rejected” “Denied” “Frozen” Her husband’s empire—frozen with him. His accounts, strangely locked. His assets, bound in endless litigation. Although she wore the crown now, the kingdom was chained and choking.

Her eyes flicked to the laptop screen.

St. Delphina’s Academy of Arts. Urgent Reminder. Olivia's tuition Payment Overdue. Final Deadline: 7 Days.

Her throat closed.

“They’ll teach your daughter to hold a violin in Switzerland,” she muttered, dragging smoke into her lungs, “but won’t wait a week for their blood money.”

The knock came like a soft threat, measured and calculated. And before she could answer, the door flew open.

Edward walked in.

He had sharp lines and colder edges, his tailored suit stitched with danger. His smile looked charming until you noticed the darkness in his eyes, the kind that never left survivors the same. Men whispered his name with fear—Edward Thorne, the king of shadows, the one who strangled fortunes and men alike with a single flick of his hand.

“Carina,” he greeted, voice warm but coiled like a blade. “You look… overwhelmed.”

She sat straighter, pressing her spine into Roger’s chair as though posture could shield her.

“What do you want, Edward? I don’t have time for your games.”

He chuckled, raising his palms like he came in peace. His gaze wandered across the mess on her desk. Frozen accounts. Rejected petitions. Letters she had stopped opening.

“Such a shame,” he murmured, “that Roger didn’t leave things in better order. Or with someone else, perhaps.”

Her nails dug into the armrest. “If you came to insult me, leave.”

“Insults? No, no. I came with a gift.” He placed a leather-bound folder on the desk and slid it toward her, slow and deliberate, like a serpent laying its prey at her feet.

Carina didn’t touch it. Her eyes stayed on him. “What’s in it?”

“A solution,” he said smoothly. “I’ll cover Olivia’s tuition. Every penny. I’ll even provide extra—enough to keep you afloat until the estate clears.” His smile sharpened. “No more begging, no more overdue notices. All you have to do is agree.”

Her laugh was bitter, humorless. “And what’s the price? You’ve never offered charity.”

He leaned forward, eyes glittering. “You’re right. I don’t.”

She finally opened the folder.

And froze. “This is …”

“You want Andrew to serve you for ten years?” Her voice cracked with disbelief.

Edward’s chuckle was low and cruel. “I’ve had my eye on him for a while. He's strong, disciplined, and talented. A man like that could bring fifty of mine to their knees. He’d be a weapon worth polishing. A trainer for my men. A guard for me. Loyal. Efficient. And most importantly… mine.”

Her voice hardened. “That’s extortion.”

“No, Carina.” His tone dropped, a knife sliding from silk. “It’s called business.”

“I won’t do it.”

His laughter filled the room, too loud, too sharp, then stopped on a dime. His eyes pinned her in place. “Do you think you have a choice?”

He placed a second folder before her. This one was darker and more frightening.

Carina hesitated, then opened it.

The color drained from her face. Her fingers trembled on the page. Her lips parted in a faint gasp. She slammed it shut.

“How… How did you know?” Her voice shook. “This is blackmail.”

“Careful.” His calmness was venomous. “I’d hate for Olivia’s future to be ruined because of your temper. Or her mother to… be jailed.”

Her heart pounded.

“Please. Just keep this between us. I’ll make sure he signs the contract,” she whispered, desperation cutting into her voice.

Edward smiled. “Good girl. Send me the signed document, and the money flows. Until then—tick, tock.”

The file stayed on the desk, heavy as a death sentence.

One week later, the roses bloomed white. The sky shone blue. And Carina wore ivory lace for the second time in her life. It was her remarriage ceremony.

It was quiet. A hollow ceremony under a glass dome in the same garden where she once danced with Roger. Frank kissed her like he’d won. Carina kept her composure like a mask welded to her face.

Andrew stood stiff in a black suit, Richard’s wheelchair beside him, Charlotte close by. His jaw was stone. His eyes unreadable. The silence pressed against them all.

Three days later, Carina summoned Andrew to the study.

He came alone.

The folder waited. The contract was sleek, expensive, and inked in lines that bled into the paper like shackles.

Andrew opened the first page, confusion shadowing his face. “What is this?”

“A solution,” Carina replied. “Edward Thorne’s proposal.”

Andrew’s voice was tight. “The black-market kingpin who launders blood money throughout this city? That Edward?”

“He wants to employ you. Exclusively. The contract is generous. In return, Richard gets care no hospital could dream of providing. Doctors. Therapists. Equipment. All of it.”

Andrew stared at her. “Why would Edward care about Richard?”

“Because he sees profit in you,” she answered simply. “And I told him you’d agree.”

His head snapped up. “You told him what?”

“That you’d sign.”

Andrew’s voice rose. “You sold me to him? You didn’t even ask me? Are you joking right now?”

Carina stood, heels clicking like gunfire against the floor, and came closer. “This isn’t a joke. This is survival.”

He flipped to the clause, his chest tightening. “Ten years? Ten years as his property? As his weapon?”

“It’s a business agreement,” she said coldly.

“It’s slavery.”

Her eyes flashed. “We cannot afford Richard’s care without this. The estate is still in limbo. The insurance barely covers basic treatment. The only specialists who might wake him cost fortunes. Fortunes we don’t have.”

Andrew’s voice broke with fury. “You want me to sell my soul for Richard?”

“You always said you’d do anything for him. This is your chance.”

His throat closed. His hands clenched. “I won’t sign this.”

Carina didn’t argue. She slid a photograph across the desk. Richard. Tubes, monitors, pale skin stretched across fragile bones. Her voice dropped, cruel and deliberate.

“If you don’t sign, I’ll withdraw every cent from his care. I’ll move him to a public ward so broken he’ll be gone before the month is out.”

Andrew’s eyes burned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I will.”

Her voice was calm. Too calm.

“You think strength makes you untouchable, Andrew. But strength without leverage is worthless. Sign, or bury your brother.”

Silence filled the study. The sound of the rain outside. The distant tick of the clock. Andrew’s heartbeat in his ears.

His lips trembled. “What do you get from this?”

Carina’s smile was small and poisonous. “Maybe enough to send Olivia to Switzerland. She's smart, after all.”

His hands shook as he picked up the pen. His eyes searched hers for humanity. For something left of the woman she once pretended to be.

But all he found was ice.

The pen touched the page. The ink bled. And Andrew’s name sealed his fate.

Carina didn’t flinch. Didn’t thank him. Didn’t speak.

She only watched as the last piece of his freedom bled into paper.

And in that silence, Andrew realized the truth—His brother’s life had been sold. His own stolen.

***

Carina’s phone rang later that night, sharp and cold in the silence. Her fingers trembled as she answered. Andrew was listening in from behind the curtain.

“It’s done,” Carina forced out, her voice thin.

The pause stretched before Edward’s reply came, smooth and merciless. “Ten years of servitude of a stepson isn’t too steep a price… especially, not when it saves you from prison. Or worse.”

The line went dead, but the words didn’t. They wrapped around Andrew’s chest like chains, sealing a fate he couldn’t escape. The contract had been signed, the ink dried, yet it clung to his hands like blood.

Every day inside Thorne Industries stripped another piece from him. A command here. A silence there. Orders that stained his soul. He had traded his freedom for Richard’s fragile breath, and each time he heard the hiss of oxygen in his brother’s hospital room, he reminded himself it was worth it.

But it never felt like salvation. It rather felt like damnation.

The only thing that kept him from sinking completely was Charlotte. She had been his anchor in the storms, the one who made him laugh when life gave him nothing to smile about, the warmth he held when the nights turned unbearable. She wasn’t just his love—she was his hope, his sanity, his reminder that not everything in his world was corrupted. He clung to her as though she was the last pure thing he had left.

At least until a night he finally had the privilege to go visit her.

The rain had begun as a drizzle, turning the sky into streaks of silver. Andrew returned early from one of Edward’s private assignments, his clothes still heavy with the scent of danger. All he wanted was silence, rest, and her arms around him.

But as he entered the estate, unease spread through him. The halls were silent. No music. No soft hum of her voice. The kind of stillness that felt staged. Charlotte was supposed to be downstairs waiting for him, like she always did.

A creak from the floor above froze him in place.

He moved slowly, each step up the stairs heavy with dread. The closer he came, the harder his pulse pounded in his ears. The door to her guest room was slightly open, and from inside came a sound that hollowed him out. Her laughters twined with a man’s voice he didn’t recognize.

Andrew pushed the door wider.

The sight crushed him.

Charlotte was straddling another man, her dress falling off her shoulders, her fingers tangled in his hair. She was laughing, radiant and unashamed, her head tilted back in a joy Andrew had once thought belonged only to him.

Time didn’t just pause. It broke.

He stood there, rooted in disbelief, the world crashing down in jagged silence.

She finally noticed him, but there was no shock in her eyes. No shame. Just mild irritation.

“God, Andrew. Do you ever knock anymore?”

The man scrambled for his clothes, but Charlotte didn’t bother to cover herself. She slid gracefully off the bed, annoyance etched across her face, as if he had merely interrupted a game.

Andrew’s voice came raw, like a wound torn open. “What the hell is this?”

She tilted her head, arms folding as though he were being unreasonable. “What does it look like, fool? Sex and fun of course. Something you clearly don’t understand anymore.”

His fists clenched, trembling at his sides. “I gave up everything for us. I signed my life away for Richard… for you. You knew what it cost me!”

Charlotte scoffed, her laugh cutting sharper than glass. “Us? There is no us, Andrew. Not anymore. You chose Edward, his dirty work, his chains. That’s your life now. You think that’s love? That’s a future?”

Her words sliced through him, leaving nothing untouched.

“I waited,” she said, stepping closer, her eyes cold. “I waited while you drowned in pity and hollow promises. You walk around pretending you’re some tragic hero, but all I see is a boy too blind to realize he’s sinking. I won’t sink with you.”

He could barely breathe. “I did this for Richard.”

Her eyes flashed with irritation. “And what about me? You think love alone can feed me? Shelter me? Love doesn’t pay for penthouses or plane tickets. I want security. I want a man who can give me more than excuses and a ten-year prison sentence under some Edward Thorne.”

Rain lashed against the window, echoing the storm inside him. He stepped back as if her words had struck him. “So that’s it? You were never going to wait for me?”

Her face hardened. “I was never going to waste my life on a man too noble to save himself. You gave everything to your brother. And nothing to me.”

The silence that followed felt like a noose tightening around his throat.

He turned toward the door, each step dragging like lead. Before leaving, he looked back, his face unreadable, his voice a whisper of shattered faith. “Did you even ever love me?”

Charlotte didn’t even blink.

“Maybe,” she said coldly. “But love doesn’t buy the life I deserve. And I’m done being poor.”

He didn’t remember how he left the room. Didn’t remember the stairs beneath his feet or the rain pounding against his skin. Only the sound of his heart breaking, one word at a time, each syllable she had spat becoming a blade lodged inside him.

He ended up on the cliffs behind the estate, the ocean raging far below as though it shared his fury. The rain plastered his hair to his face, soaked through his clothes, and still he didn’t move. His knees buckled, hitting the wet ground as his hands clawed into the mud. His scream ripped through the storm, raw and broken, a sound torn from somewhere deep that he didn’t know existed.

Not because she had betrayed him with another man.

But because she had stripped the last illusion he had clung to. Even love had been a lie.

The storm swallowed him until another voice broke through. Smooth and inevitable.

“Rough day?”

Edward’s tone carried no sympathy. A towel dropped beside him, untouched.

Andrew didn’t raise his head, his voice hoarse. “You said betrayal tastes like blood.” He let out a hollow laugh that wasn’t laughter at all. “You were right.”

Edward crouched, unbothered by the rain. His suit was immaculate, his presence sharp against Andrew’s collapse. “Betrayal is the best teacher. It tears away the masks, strips you of illusions, leaves you with the truth. Now you see the world as it is.”

Andrew’s chest rose and fell, but no words came. Something inside him shifted, fractured and burned. The boy who had once believed in love and sacrifice was dying there in the mud. Something darker, harder, was taking his place.

Edward studied him with quiet satisfaction, the ghost of a smile curling on his lips. “You’re one of us now, Andrew. And believe it or not, pain makes the finest soldiers.”