bChapter 159 /b

90%

(b+28/bb) /b

ADRIAN’S POV

The basement was quiet. Still. The only sounds were my own breathing and the low hum of the ceiling light. I’d been sitting on the cold cement floor for over an hour, my back leaning against the wall, knees bent, head bowed.

In my hand was the only piece of peace I’d ever held on to–my mother’s photo. Her eyes stared back at me, just like they always did. Warm. Kind. Trusting. And somehow, looking into them now, I still didn’t feel the closure I thought I would.

I raised the photo and kissed it gently before sliding it back into the inner pocket of my blood–stained suit. My fingers lingered there for a moment, as if part of me didn’t want to let it go.

But it was time.

I stood slowly, my legs a little stiff from being crouched for so long. Taking a deep breath, I let the cool, metallic air of the basement fill imy /ilungs. I was done. The justice I had craved–no, the vengeance I had nned for most of my life–was finallyplete.

And yet… I didn’t feel free.

The two bodies tied to the chairs in front of me no longer moved. Lifeless. Drained. Their presence no longer screamed maniption or cruelty. They were just… corpses now. And if I’m being honest, looking at them in death irritated me more than when they were alive.

I didn’t want to stay in the same room as them any longer.

I cleared my throat firmly–loud enough for my men upstairs to hear–and, within seconds, Dan and the rest filed in. No words were exchanged. They didn’t need instructions. We had worked together long enough for them to read me like a book. Most days, they could tell what I wanted with just a gesture, a nce, or even the tension in my shoulders.

They weren’t perfect. Sometimes they fumbled. But I didn’t have the energy to train new men, to build trust from scratch. These were my guys, shorings and all.

I turned toward Dan, who was already awaitingmand.

“These bodies,” I began, voice low but firm, “don’t bury them. Wrap them in something tight. Then burn them. Completely. After that, take whatever is left–ash, bones, all of it–and drive deep into the Pacific. I don’t want to hear they were dropped near the docks or some shallow cove. I mean deep. Somewhere no diver, no drone, and no investigation can ever reach. Am I clear?”

Dan gave a single, sharp nod. “We understand, boss.”

Without another word, I turned and left the room, my footsteps echoing down the basement corridor. Each step felt heavier than thest, but I didn’t stop until I reached my room.

Everything felt darker today. Colder, even though the air was still.

I stripped off my suit slowly. The once–pristine ck fabric was ruined–soaked with blood and sweat. It no longer felt like a badge of power or identity. It just felt… dirty. Hleft it in a heap on the floor as I walked into the bathroom and turned the shower knob.

The rush of hot water hissed against the marble walls, steam curling around me like a fog, thick and suffocating. I stepped in and let the water hit my skin, standing still as the warmth poured over me. It should’ve felt familiar, but today it felt different. Today, the heat actually made me feel alive—for a- brief second.

I looked down, watching as streaks of red trailed from my arms and shoulders into the drain. That blood wasn’t just from the Graysons. It was from years of carrying this weight. Years of pain, abandonment, and mistrust. And now it was all washing off, circling the drain like it had never existed.

I had done something important today. Something irreversible. I’d fulfilled the promise I made to my mother. And yet… I felt nothing.

No triumph,

b09:08 /bbMon /bb23 /bbJun /b-GU

bNo /bsatisfaction

bJust/b… bsilence/bb. /b

And maybe it was because no one was here to witness it. No one who mattered, anyway. Dora might be around me, waiting for me to bsay /bsomething. Bot she wasn’t the one I wanted.

She was never the one.

I didn’t want someone who lingered because of my name or the number in my bank ount. I wanted someone who could sit beside me in this silence and just understand–no words needed. Someone who could look at me and see more than just a businessman of a broken man on a warpath.

Someone I could care about.

ISADORA’S POV

We finally got to the second mall of the day.

The first stop had been a shoe store–one of the high–end ones, of course–and I’d made sure I didn’t leave without trying on at least ten different pairsb. /bEventually, I picked out three that not only screamed luxury but also whispered elegance. Adrian had said I should get something for myself, and i was sure he didn’t mean one thing. He said something, not something. And honestly, with the kind of mood I was in, I was going to satisfy every need I bhad /bplus a few I didn’t even know I had until I saw them in a disy window.

Now here I was, bin /bba /bclothing store that could give Paris Fashion Week a run for its money. The lights were so and goldenb, /bthe air smelled faintly of sandalwood and expensive fabric, and the dresses… my God, the dresses. Each one looked like it had been hand–stitched by angels.

An assistant noticed me immediately and approached with a perfect customer–service smile. “Hello, ma’am. What can we help you with today?”

I paused dramatically, tapping my index finger against my lips in mock thought. “Hmm…”

I scanned the racks briefly, then looked at her with a smirk. “Do you have any open–back dresses with a high slit?”

“Right this way,” she said with a cheerful nod and gestured for me to follow her.

We walked deeper into the store, past mannequins in glittering gowns and racks of silks, chiffons, and satins. Each step I took felt like ba /bscene out of a movie. I could already imagine myself in one of those dresses, making an entrance that would leave mouths hanging open.

Then it hit me–just as I was admiring a soft emerald–green gown with a gold zipper down the back. Adrian didn’t just send me out to pamper myself. He’d told me to pick up a few things for the baby too. Ugh. The thought instantly dulled the excitement in my chest. But I couldn’t exactly ignore it either. That was the main reason he let me go out in the first ce.

“You wouldn’t happen to sell baby clothes, would you?” I asked, turning slightly toward the assistant.

Her eyes

lit up. “Yes, we actually do. It’s just on the other side of the store–our luxury babywear section. Would you like to check it out nowb?/bb” /b

“Yes, please. Let’s head there first,” I said with a sighb, /bhalf–hearted but polite. Might as well get the obligation out of the way before I treat myself properly.

We changed direction and walked across the showroom floor. As we approachedb, /bsoft pastels began to fill my vision–powder blues, delicate pinks, soft creams. Tiny onesies withce trim, baby booties with embroidered initials, and cashmere nkets that cost more than some people’s rent.

I stood in front of a neatly arranged shelf, picking up a small beige two–piece outfit. It was adorable. And even I couldn’t bdeny /bbhow /bbs /bfingers.

bIt /bbetween my

“Would you like me to put together a few matching sets?” the assistant asked.

“Yes, go ahead,” I said, nodding. “Pick out the best of the bestb./bb” /b

bChapter /bb159 /b

As she turned bto /bbbegin/b, I let out a deep breath and crossed my