His Bride in Chains Chapter 302: All Set

Kenneth chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that echoed his mischievous spirit. "Good. Let them bask in their illusions a bit longer. The conference hosts played their part perfectly—those invites were irresistible bait. ’Co honor your legendary father,’ indeed. They’ll be on stage tonight, spilling their self-centered drivel, right before I drop the bomb."

Kenneth’s lips twitched in a rare smile. "And the others? Mirabel, Charles, Bianca, and Sarai?"

George’s eyes hardened, the twinkle replaced by a steely glint. "Ah, yes. The n have them in the special dressing room. Roughed up as they were—thanks to their own treachery—they’ll look the part tonight. Just exactly as you ordered."

In a lavish tent repurposed as a dressing suite, far from prying eyes, Mirabel Vexley sat rigidly on a velvet chair, her elegant fra trembling with suppressed rage. Her smooth brown skin, usually flawless, bore faint traces of bruises now expertly concealed by layers of high-end makeup applied by a team of artists. Her immaculately styled hair was pinned in an updo, pearls gleaming at her neck, and a silk gown hugged her tall figure. Beside her, Charles Vexley, her husband, fidgeted in his tailored suit, his silver hair combed back, stern features set in a mask of indifference. His late-50s fra showed signs of wear, but the makeup artists had worked miracles.

Bianca Monroe paced nearby, her sharp features softened by contouring, her expensive dress shimring under the lights. Sarai on the other hand, sat with crossed legs, her light brown skin glowing artificially, sharp green eyes narrowed in fury. Her glossy jet-black hair was in a sleek bun, designer outfit impeccable, but the fire in her gaze betrayed her manipulative soul.

"This is humiliating," Sarai hissed, her voice dripping with sarcasm as a makeup artist dabbed at her cheek. "Kidnapped, tortured, and now dolled up like Barbie dolls for so twisted parade? Who does that old man think he is?"

Bianca leaned in, lowering her voice to a hiss, the kind ant for secrets and poison. The way she and her sister moved—sa tilt of the head, sa sharp glint in their eyes—made it clear this wasn’t their first whispered conspiracy. "Shh, sister. Watch your mouth. We’re not out of the woods yet," she murmured. "We stick together, rember? Always."

Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "We play nice. Smile for the caras. Say all the right things." A beat. "Then we strike when no one’s looking. Kenneth Holloway may think he’s the smartest man in the room, but please—we’ve got dirt on everyone. Including the floor he’s standing on."

Mirabel’s gaze cut through them like frostbite. She didn’t lean in. She didn’t whisper. She didn’t need to. "Spare the theatrics," she said coolly. "That man—Holloway—is far more dangerous than you realize."

She glanced at Charles beside her, her expression tightening just slightly. "I married into power. His power. And look where that got us." With a sharp flick of her hand, she gestured toward the guards stationed at every exit—Holloway’s n. Silent. Ard. Unmoved. "This isn’t a show of force. It’s a reminder. His empire dwarfs yours, ours—everyone’s. So choose your battles carefully." Her eyes hardened. "You’re not strategists. You’re children."

Charles cleared his throat, the sound awkward in the tense silence. His voice was asured, but the unease slipped through the cracks. "Mirabel’s not wrong. Right now, we’re pieces on his board, waiting to be moved—or sacrificed." He hesitated, glancing toward the exits. "But if we can get out of here tonight..."

He trailed off, hope dangling by a thread he wasn’t quite brave enough to pull.

One guard, a towering figure with a scar across his cheek, interrupted gruffly. "No escaping. Mr. Holloway’s orders: you’re to be escorted to the hall when the ti cos. Look pretty, act normal, or else."

Sarai rolled her eyes, her possessive nature flaring. "Fine. But when this is over, Eliana—that naive little fool—will pay double for dragging us into her fairy tale."

Bianca smirked, squeezing Sarai’s hand. "Don’t provoke them, sis. We’ll make sure of it. But be patient."

Back in his command center, Kenneth nodded approvingly as George relayed the update. "Excellent. Cover every bruise—let them shine like the hypocrites they are. And make sure they’re under watch. No slips."

George saluted. "Done, sir. Now, about your gift for Eliana..."

Kenneth’s face softened, the predatory satisfaction giving way to grandfatherly warmth. "Ah, yes. Ti to visit my girl and Rafael. Lead the way."

The sun climbed higher, bathing the grounds in mid-morning light as Kenneth made his way to Eliana and Rafael’s luxurious tent, a sprawling canvas palace befitting a billionaire’s hideaway. Guards parted like the Red Sea at his approach. Inside, Eliana was now dressed in a simple yet elegant sundress that accentuated her natural grace, her long curly black hair falling over her shoulders. She sat on a plush couch, Rafael beside her, his crisp designer suit a stark contrast to his earlier rumpled state. Jas hovered nearby—dark hair neatly combed, wire-rim glasses perched on his nose, his kind eyes scanning for any needs.

"Eliana, my dear!" Kenneth exclaid as he entered, his arms open wide, voice booming with affection. He enveloped her in a hug, careful of her bruises, his lonely heart swelling with joy.

"Papa H—Grandpa," Eliana corrected herself with a teary laugh, pulling back to look at him. Her emotional resilience shone, but tears welled in her honey-brown eyes. "I still can’t believe you’re here. Alive. And planning... whatever this is for tonight."

Kenneth patted her cheek, his wise eyes twinkling. "Believe it, child. I’ve got fireworks planned—revelations that’ll shake the foundations. But first, how’s my favorite granddaughter feeling? And you, Rafael—keeping her out of trouble?"

Rafael rose to his feet and clasped Kenneth’s hand in a firm shake, the usual sarcasm in his voice dialed down just enough to let genuine respect slip through. "As much as she’ll allow it, H. She’s tougher than the two of us put together," he said, shooting Eliana a sideways look. "But this conference tonight..." His gaze sharpened. "You’ve got sothing big up your sleeve, don’t you?"

Kenneth’s answer was a slow nod, his grin stretching wider, brighter—far too pleased with itself. "Oh, absolutely," he said. "Big doesn’t even begin to cover it."

Then he waved the mont away like a magician redirecting attention. "But we’ll save that surprise for later." His eyes settled on Eliana, gleaming with intent. "For now, I’ve brought you sothing special."

Eliana’s face lit up with curiosity, her quiet strength evident as she leaned forward. "A gift? Papa H, you didn’t have to—"

"Ah, but I did," Kenneth replied, his voice thick with emotion, reaching into his pocket with dramatic flair.