Sebastian Hawthorne's elegant study had never felt so suffocating. Sweat trickled down my spine as I watched him frantically pacing the room, his expensive shoes wearing a path in the Persian rug. The news of Harrison Ashworth's arrival had turned his face ashen.
"Julian," Sebastian hissed at , grabbing my shoulder with trembling fingers. "Listen carefully. No matter what he says, deny everything. We don't know anything about the kidnapping. Do you understand ?"
I nodded, but couldn't help feeling my father was overreacting. "Father, relax. We're the Hawthornes. This is our city."
Before he could respond, the double doors swung open.
The man who entered wasn't particularly tall or physically imposing, but the energy radiating from him made the air feel heavy. Harrison Ashworth moved with the casual confidence of soone who had never needed to raise his voice to be obeyed. His silver-streaked hair and impeccable suit spoke of old money and older power.
My father's face drained of all remaining color. "Mr. Yan! What an unexpected pleasure—"
Harrison Ashworth didn't even look at him. He walked past my father as if he didn't exist and settled into the leather armchair behind the desk—my father's chair. He pulled out a cigar, lit it unhurriedly, and blew a perfect smoke ring toward the ceiling.
The silence stretched until it beca painful.
"Bold," Harrison finally said, his voice soft yet filling the room. "Extraordinarily bold of you, Hawthorne."
My father dropped to his knees, trembling. "Mr. Yan, I don't understand—"
"Do you rember the Scott family from Veridia City?" Harrison interrupted, examining his cigar with mild interest. "Prominent family. Similar to yours in many ways."
My father's breathing beca shallow. I stood awkwardly to the side, confused by his reaction. The Scott family? I'd never heard of them.
"They made a similar mistake so years ago," Harrison continued. "They thought my daughter would make an excellent bargaining chip." He took another puff of his cigar. "You know what happened to them?"
My father was practically prostrate now. "Mr. Yan, please, whatever you think has happened—"
"Three days," Harrison cut in. "That's how long it took. Their businesses declared bankruptcy. Their assets seized. Family mbers disappeared. So were found. So weren't."
A chill ran through as I finally began to understand the gravity of the situation. This wasn't just so business rival. This was Harrison "The Executioner" Ashworth. The whispered nightmare of business circles. The man who had supposedly ended entire bloodlines over perceived slights.
"We had nothing to do with any kidnapping!" my father pleaded, actually crawling forward now. "I swear on my life!"
Harrison regarded him with the detached interest of soone watching an insect. "You think I need evidence to destroy you?"
That's when I decided to intervene. This pathetic display from my father was embarrassing. I stepped forward, straightening my designer jacket.
"Mr. Ashworth," I said, injecting confidence into my voice. "There's clearly been so misunderstanding. We had nothing to do with any incident involving your daughter."
Harrison's eyes shifted to for the first ti, and I felt sothing I'd never experienced before—genuine fear. His gaze was like being subrged in ice water.
But I pressed on. "Furthermore, I must advise caution with your threats. This isn't Veridia City. You're in Shiglance now. I have the provincial governor's personal number. One call, and you won't leave this city."
My father made a strangled noise, collapsing entirely to the floor. His reaction annoyed . Was he really so spineless?
Harrison Ashworth didn't respond imdiately. He simply took another drag of his cigar, studying like a curious specin.
Fine. If he wanted to play hardball, so could I. I pulled out my phone and dialed.
"Governor Chen? This is Julian Hawthorne. Yes, I apologize for the late hour. We have a situation that requires your imdiate—"
The sudden sound of helicopter rotors drowned out my voice. The chandelier above us began to shake. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, blinding spotlights illuminated the night sky.
My phone call forgotten, I moved to the window. What I saw made my knees buckle.
At least five military-grade helicopters hovered over our estate. On the grounds below, armored vehicles had broken through our gates. Hundreds of heavily ard soldiers in tactical gear were surrounding the building, their weapons trained on every entrance and window.
"What... what is this?" I whispered, my earlier bravado evaporating like morning dew.
Harrison Ashworth stood, adjusting his cufflinks. "Governor Chen won't be taking your calls tonight. Or ever again, most likely." Ch&a.p&t@e!r pr o!v*i@ded& via *.
My father remained curled on the floor, sobbing quietly now. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This level of force, this display of power... it was beyond anything I could have imagined.
"You see, Julian," Harrison continued, coming to stand beside at the window, "there's local power, and then there's real power." He placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip painfully tight. "You were playing a ga you didn't understand the rules of."
A loud bang echoed through the mansion as the front doors were breached. Heavy footsteps thundered through the halls.
"The Ashworths don't make threats," Harrison said, his voice still eerily calm. "We don't need to."
The study doors burst open again. This ti, a team of ard n in tactical gear entered, followed by two figures I recognized instantly—Liam Knight and Isabelle Ashworth.
My throat constricted at the sight of them. Isabelle's face was a mask of cold fury. Knight's expression promised violence.
"Father," Isabelle said, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. "I see you've started without us."
Harrison nodded to his daughter. "Just the preliminaries. I thought you might want to handle the details personally."
Through the window, I could see more vehicles arriving—not military this ti, but sleek black cars. n in suits erged, carrying briefcases. They looked like lawyers and financial officers. The systematic dismantling of the Hawthorne empire had already begun.
Knight stepped forward, his eyes never leaving mine. Unlike Harrison's cold fury, his rage was a visible, palpable thing.
"Julian Hawthorne," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I believe we have so unfinished business about putting hands on what's mine."
As Knight advanced toward , I realized with perfect clarity the catastrophic miscalculation I had made. I hadn't just picked a fight with a forr son-in-law who'd risen above his station. I'd challenged the full might of the Ashworth family—and they had co to collect.
The helicopters continued to circle overhead, their spotlights turning night into day, illuminating the beginning of the Hawthorne family's end.
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