A few days had passed since Xavier and Anastasia visited the Regalith sex trafficking ring that sold n. The first phase of their plan was complete. Now, all that was left was the real operation—the takedown.
Unbeknownst to the royal family who were still living blissfully by trying to recruit new n, their business was hanging by a thread, unaware that it would be taken down soon.
For years, Izara and her brother had been trapped, suffocated, forced to live under the weight of their parents’ sins.
Now, they had finally found a way out. They weren’t looking for revenge. They weren’t looking for justice.
All they wanted was to escape. To get Edward the treatnt he desperately needed. To flee—far away, to a place where even their parents wouldn’t find them.
All they had to do now was wait.
SowhereElse...
Xander had not been the sa since Xavier walked out of his hospital room.
His usual arrogance, his sharp tongue, his unpredictable nature—all of it had dulled.
Instead, his mind was consud by sothing else. A question. A mory. A truth he could no longer ignore.
Samantha noticed it imdiately.
At first, she had let it slide, assuming he just needed ti. But as the days passed, his silence only deepened.
He barely spoke. He barely reacted to anything.
His gaze was always distant.
His mind—elsewhere.
Finally, as their private jet landed in Radiantia, she broke the silence.
"Why did you suddenly want to et your biological father?"
Xander didn’t answer.
Samantha had suggested that Mr. Wallace co to Xattlewood instead.
Xander’s wound was still fresh. He could barely walk, even with crutches, and flying all the way here was reckless.
But Xander had ignored her.
And then, sothing even more surprising happened.
Mr. Wallace told them he wasn’t ho.
He was at a party with Bruce.
Samantha had been furious.
How could Xander, in his condition, still be so stubborn?
She didn’t trust him to handle this alone, so, she was left with no choice but to follow him.
And now, here they were.
Outside an extravagant party, surrounded by people who had no idea what kind of monsters lurked among them.
The event was lavish, the kind only n of their status could afford.
Gold-plated chandeliers. Endless champagne towers. Conversations coated in deception and power plays.
But Xander had no intention of going inside.
Instead, he fired off a text ssage announcing his arrival.
Then, he took a seat far from the main building.
Samantha sighed, sitting beside him.
She wasn’t giving up that easily.
"What did Xavier tell you that has you this worked up?" she pressed.
Xander’s grip on his crutches tightened.
He let out a slow exhale before finally muttering, "You’ll find out soon enough."
His voice was calm, but Samantha felt the weight in his words.
She hated this.
She hated how closed off he had beco.
She hated how she could feel sothing was wrong, yet he wouldn’t tell her.
Still, she stayed by his side.
Even when the tension was suffocating.
Even when she knew she might not like the answers.
It didn’t take long for Mr. Wallace and Bruce to step out of the venue.
Their suits were pristine. Their watches glead under the streetlights. The faint scent of expensive cigars and whiskey lingered in the air.
They had been enjoying themselves.
But the mont they saw Xander—everything changed.
Bruce’s eyes imdiately fell to the white bandage wrapped around his foot.
"Who did this to you?" he asked, voice sharp.
Mr. Wallace’s expression darkened. "Were you attacked?"
Xander studied their faces, his heart pounding against his ribs.
He replied after a few beats, "I was...by Xavier."
The reaction was instant.
Their eyes widened in shock.
Bruce’s fists clenched and Mr. Wallace’s posture stiffened.
The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity.
Then, finally, Mr. Wallace spoke. "...What?"
Xander could hear the edge in his voice.
The mixture of disbelief and sothing else.
Sothing deeper.
But he didn’t co here to talk about Xavier.
That wasn’t what had been keeping him awake at night.
There was sothing else and that was far more important.
His gaze locked onto Mr. Wallace. Then, he asked the question that had been haunting him for days.
"Do you rember Arabella?"
Silence.
Everything—the faint music from the party, the distant laughter, the soft chatter of the guests—faded.
Bruce and Mr. Wallace froze.
For a brief second—a re heartbeat—Mr. Wallace’s expression shifted.
Then, just as quickly, he masked it.
"...Arabella?" he echoed. His voice was calm, too calm. "Who’s that?"
Xander’s gaze darkened.
"Arabella," Xander repeated. "The girl I took to the hospital two decades ago. The one Xavier murdered."
Mr. Wallace pretended to think.
Then, after a mont, he let out a small, casual chuckle.
"Ah... right. Arabella."
His smile was practiced. His tone—unnatural.
"...Why bring her up now?" Mr. Wallace asked, forcing another chuckle.
Xander didn’t blink.
"I want to know the truth."
Mr. Wallace’s brows furrowed. "The truth?"
"Did you kill Arabella?"
The mont those words left his mouth—Mr. Wallace’s mask cracked.
For the first ti, his reaction betrayed him.
His breath hitched. His pupils dilated. His jaw tightened. And then, just as quickly, he took a step back—as if the accusation had physically struck him.
Samantha’s eyes widened, but she remained silent.
Bruce was utterly still.
The weight of Xander’s words settled over them like a noose.
Then, finally, Mr. Wallace’s shock morphed into anger.
"What the hell are you saying?" His voice was sharp, cold. "That’s an outrageous accusation."
Xander didn’t waver.
The way his hands clenched.
The way his breathing changed
The way his eyes darted ever so slightly—just for a second.
Xander leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’ll ask you one more ti." Ti seed to have stopped as he said those words. "Did you kill her?"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Mr. Wallace’s jaw clenched.
Then, he spoke, "What sort of nonsense question is that?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)