In the dimly lit underground facility far from the capital city, Michael stood with a satisfied smirk, observing Dina, her face swathed in bandages. Her transformation was nearly complete.
"How long will it take for her to fully recover?" he asked Dr. Ludwig, the skilled plastic surgeon standing beside him. "I want her dispatched imdiately to replace the original."
Dr. Ludwig adjusted his glasses, his tone clinical. "Like with the others, she’ll need about three more weeks to heal completely. However, we can send her out earlier since she’s mastered the target’s movents and mannerisms. I’ve also made minor adjustnts to her vocal cords to ensure a perfect match."
Michael’s grin widened. "Yes, she’s perfect."
Turning sharply, he instructed, "Prioritize her recovery. The others can wait. I want nothing to go wrong."
Leaving the room, Michael strode through the labyrinthine corridors, his n trailing behind him. He entered another room, where a man stood, exuding confidence.
"Sir," the man greeted with a slight bow.
Michael chuckled. "Look at you! Ready to replace Judge Leo Silas from the Supre Court already?"
The man mirrored the judge’s authoritative deanor perfectly. "I’m prepared for the task, Mr. Astor."
Michael nodded approvingly. "Good. Follow the plan, and ensure no mistakes."
The fake Judge Silas readied himself to rejoin his "family," his deanour indistinguishable from the real man.
This was Michael’s ga... seamlessly replacing influential figures with his own operatives. For five years, his network of fakes had infiltrated various levels of power, maintaining his grip on illegal operations. Even his father remained oblivious to the full extent of his sches. While there had been initial errors, his operations had grown increasingly sophisticated.
Descending further into the facility’s lower levels, Michael entered the area where he kept the originals... the prisoners who had been replaced. Passing by a particular cell, he heard Judge Leo Silas shouting, his voice raw with anger.
"Let out of here! You’ll pay for this, Michael!"
Michael stopped, his smirk returning. "Bring the new Judge Leo Silas," he ordered one of his guards.
Monts later, the doppelganger arrived, his resemblance to the real judge uncanny. He stood before the cell, smirking as he eyed the imprisoned Leo.
Leo’s face contorted with rage. "You! You’re a monster! What are you planning to do?! Who is this man!"
The fake judge grinned cruelly. "Any tips on your wife’s preferences? I want to make our ti together... morable."
Leo’s fists slamd against the iron bars. "Don’t you dare! I’ll kill you! Don’t you dare touch my wife!"
Michael laughed, his voice echoing sinisterly through the room. "I warned you, didn’t I? All you had to do was rule ’not guilty.’ Now, look where you are. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your replacent records every mont he spends with your wife. Who knows? She might even prefer him over you."
Leo’s screams grew frantic, his face flushed with fury. "I’ll kill you, Michael! I swear it!"
Michael leaned closer to the bars, his grin mocking. "Save your strength. Who knows? I might keep you alive a little longer... unless, of course, you bore . Then, you’ll join the others."
He turned on his heel, laughing as Leo’s cries of rage followed him down the corridor. The sound of despair was music to Michael’s ears.
"Michael please release . I will do anything you want just let live and go back to my family please..." he halted hearing an old man beg. He was the head of the District IV police station where currently his hub for drug trafficking was at its peak... Of course, because the chief police was a fake he implanted right there.
"But my planted doppelganger to replace you there was too good. I didn’t see any reason to take him away and put you back in position. How about this? Pray that he makes mistakes and maybe I’ll consider you going back..." he remarked. This man had been begging him earnestly whenever he would visit their prison.
He scread his na begging as Michael left to go up back. No one would suspect that this minimart had a secret passage going to his underground facility. It was a perfect decoy in this rural place.
As Michael settled into the backseat of his sleek black car, his driver turned to him with a respectful nod. "Where to now, sir?"
"Take to Clayton Hospital," Michael said, his tone thoughtful. He stared out the window as the city blurred past. "I want to personally update Tim about his daughter’s condition. That man still surprises ... treating his daughters so differently."
Michael’s mind wandered as he spoke. Tim Clayton was an enigma, a man whose motives he couldn’t entirely decipher. On the surface, Tim’s willingness to sacrifice his own daughters seed calculated, cold and ruthless. Yet, there was sothing deeper at play.
Michael tapped a finger on his armrest, his brow furrowing. "I can’t quite figure him out," he muttered to himself. "What kind of father acts like that? Sacrificing daughters while keeping the other on a pedestal..."
Michael’s curiosity gnawed at him relentlessly, compelling him to dig deeper into Tim Clayton’s intentions. Turning to his right-hand man seated beside him, he asked, "Any update on Tim’s movents?"
His man handed him a tablet without hesitation, the screen displaying a detailed report. Michael swiped through, his sharp eyes scanning a series of transactions and surveillance photos.
"Where did he send these purchases?" Michael asked, his tone steady but laced with intrigue.
"To two people, sir," his man replied. "One shipnt went to Rain Lancaster, and the other was delivered to Carla Cartier."
Michael’s frown deepened as he stared at the photos of Tim on the screen. Sothing wasn’t adding up.
"One thing’s certain," Michael muttered, his voice hardening. "Tim wants the Cartiers to fall. But there’s more to this. It’s not just business... it’s personal."
He tapped his fingers against the tablet, his mind racing. Carla Cartier? She was entrenched in the very web of the Cartiers, a family Tim seed determined to dismantle.
"Keep digging," Michael ordered firmly. "I want to know what he’s planning next. Sothing doesn’t sit right, and I hate surprises."
"Let’s see what you’re hiding, Tim Clayton," he whispered to himself, stepping out of the car. "I’ll uncover every secret... even if I have to tear it out of you."
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