The mont Jude stepped out of the lounge, the cool night air hit his face, but it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm brewing in his chest.
His phone buzzed sharply in his pocket, dragging him out of his thoughts. Instinctively, he fished it out and glanced down at the screen, his brows furrowing when he saw the ssage notification from Kelvin.
"Sir, we’ve successfully tracked Mr. Tryson’s location. We’re en route to get him now."
Jude read the words twice, his thumb hovering over the screen, and despite himself, he felt a small ripple of relief pulse through his tense body.
Tryson was finally within reach — one less piece of the puzzle dangling in the dark.
But that relief was short-lived, fleeting at best.
He knew all too well that this wasn’t the end; it wasn’t even halfway done. Because the mont Tryson was in their hands, the next move would be finding Angel — and that mattered even more.
Sohow, both Tryson and Angel had gotten themselves tangled in sothing far ssier and far more dangerous than they could handle, and Jude wasn’t going to rest until he pulled them both out of it.
Still, one thing was clear: when this was over, when they were finally standing face to face again, there would be a hell of a lot of explaining to do.
No one walked away from sothing like this without answers — and he intended to get every single one.
*
While Jude stepped out of the room, quietly handling his end of the operation, Alex remained stationed at his position — alone, but far from still.
As he stood there, his mind wandered, almost unwillingly, to mories he had spent years trying to bury.
The weight of the present mont pressed heavily on him, but it wasn’t just tonight’s mission that tightened his chest.
It was everything that had happened years ago — the exact chain of events that had forced him onto this path, that had shaped the man he had beco and the choices he had made, including the one he was making tonight.
If only Tryson could understand. If only he could see the cost of power — the price paid in blood, betrayal, and sacrifice.
Because right now, Tryson wasn’t just his most capable asset, his strongest trainee; he was still the boy who had spent years fighting to earn Alex’s love, to prove himself worthy in a world where love was often withheld and power ant everything.
And as much as Alex had wanted to resist it, he had seen the way Tryson craved his approval like oxygen, how every move, every mission, every risk had been an attempt to finally be enough.
With a heavy breath, Alex drifted toward the small lounge bar tucked into the corner of the room.
He poured himself a cocktail — sothing bitter and cold — and moved silently toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window.
The city stretched out beneath him, lights scattered like broken glass across the night. He stood there for a long mont, stirring the drink in his hand, watching the pulse of life below as the ghosts of the past pressed in tighter.
Years Ago...
The atmosphere in the room had been different then — sharp, tense, and cold as steel.
Alex, younger but already hardened, had walked in briskly, adjusting the sleeves of his coat as he entered.
His expression had been neutral, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed sothing deeper.
"I apologize for the delay," he said, his voice softer than usual, stripped of its usual commanding weight. "There was urgent business I needed to attend to."
He kept his gaze lowered, almost respectfully, as he took in the people sitting on the sleek leather couches before him.
He could feel the heavy silence in the room, the weight of their presence pressing against his skin.
Thankfully, his staff had offered them refreshnts, a small attempt to ease the tension, but one look at their sharp, unreadable faces told him it hadn’t worked.
It was Lily Liam who finally broke the silence — a woman known not for her strength, but for her precision.
Quiet, calculated, and terrifyingly dangerous when she wanted to be.
She crossed her legs gracefully, her gaze slicing through the room like a blade until it landed on Alex.
"So," she began coolly, voice laced with steel. "You’re talking about the sa power my brother’s daughter was forced to hand over to you?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, and despite her calm posture, the danger in her stare was unmistakable.
She was Wang’s second sister — the only surviving daughter of the Liam family, a na that carried weight and fear in equal asure.
Lily Liam sat poised, her presence sharp and calculated, radiating an air of quiet authority that could silence a room without a word.
Beside her sat her husband, Hayes, a man who kept to the shadows of her influence, his silence intentional, allowing his wife to speak while he rely observed — weighing, calculating.
"I beg your pardon, ma’am," Alex spoke carefully, his tone dipped in humility, though inside he was anything but calm. "But I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re implying. The only daughter we have is our own — our beautiful Angel."
The words slipped from his lips effortlessly, but deep down he knew they wouldn’t be enough.
Not for the Liams. Not for Lily.
He knew them too well — in their world, nothing happened without their knowledge.
A family that built empires on information, influence, and fear. The very fact they had appeared at his ho, uninvited and unannounced, ant only one thing: they knew far more than they were letting on.
For a brief, chilling mont, the room fell into absolute silence, heavy and suffocating. And then, suddenly, it shattered.
A cold, mocking laugh echoed through the space — sharp, almost cruel.
"Did you hear that, Hayes?" Lily said, turning slightly to her husband, though her eyes never left Alex. "He’s claiming to have a daughter."
Her laughter died as quickly as it had co, replaced by a steely, cutting stare. When she spoke next, her voice dropped, laced with venom. "An impotent man calling himself a father... how classic is that?"
The words hit the air like a slap, sharp and intentional. She wanted him to flinch, to break. But Alex remained eerily still, refusing to rise to her provocation.
If he was offended, he didn’t show it.
Instead, he kept his head slightly bowed, his expression apologetic, even submissive — a mask he had learned long ago to wear when facing the Liams.
But beneath that calm, there was sothing else simring. An unpredictable shift in his posture, a quiet flicker in his eyes that made Lily lean back ever so slightly, narrowing her gaze with thinly veiled disdain.
It wasn’t that he didn’t care — it was that he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing how deep her words had cut.
And that, sohow, only seed to amuse her more.
Just the re thought — the sheer sight — of a thief rising with so much undeserved glory, basking in wealth and power that rightfully belonged to the Liams, made Lily’s blood boil with uncontainable rage.
It wasn’t just betrayal she felt; it was the sting of humiliation, knowing soone like Alex dared to hold what had once been in their grasp.
Yet, despite the burning fury swirling inside her, Lily hadn’t co here to explode. She had co here to deliver a ssage, to make sothing perfectly clear — and that, she would do.
With deliberate calm, she lowered her gaze to the delicate cup in her hand, her fingers slowly swirling the contents as if it would help her steady the storm raging beneath her skin.
When she finally spoke, her voice was smooth but laced with venom.
"I must admit," she said, not bothering to mask the mockery in her tone, "you were clever enough to have the lawyer slip the will into your hands without us knowing. I’ll give you that." Her eyes flicked up, sharp as knives as she t Alex’s gaze. "But did you really believe, even for a second, that we wouldn’t find out?"
She let the question hang in the air, heavy and accusing, before lazily glancing around the expanse of the grand building — the marble floors, the glass windows overlooking the city, the polished elegance that reeked of money and power.
Her lips curled slightly, almost pityingly, before she continued.
"This entire building, this grand estate, the so-called power you like to flaunt—none of it is truly yours," Lily spoke, her voice laced with warning, each word sharp enough to cut through the silence of the room.
"That Angel you cling to like a savior, she’s the one who handed you every bit of this luxury on a silver platter. But tell , Alex—do you really believe it’s going to stay with you forever? Do you think it won’t all slip right through your fingers?"
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