CHAPTER 96: 96

The room had turned into a living shadow.

Every sound was amplified, even to the low hum of the ventilation. the faint shuffle of boots on metal, the pulse of danger thick in the air. Luna moved first, night vision goggles flickering green across her face. Tom followed, his breath steadying as the familiar rush of a mission took over.

Nix didn’t speak, but they didn’t need him to. One look, one tilt of his head, and the team moved like a single body.

Suzy’s voice crackled in their earpieces.

"Two guards approaching from the west corridor. I’ve looped the cameras for sixty seconds. Move now."

They slid through the broken-lit hallway, shadows slipping past steel. The air was damp and cold, smelling faintly of sea salt and iron. The hidden door Suzy mentioned was exactly where she said behind the mirrored panel of Camillo’s wardrobe. Nix pressed his palm against the surface; the biometric scanner blinked, denied access, blinked again

Then he smirked.

"Camillo always forgets one thing..."

He drew out a thin silver card and jammed it between the grooves. The lock gave a reluctant click, and the hidden panel slid aside, revealing a narrow spiral stairway descending into a glowing blue corridor.

At the bottom, the vault opened into a glass-walled chamber. Inside, under temperature-controlled lights, rested the painting massive, ancient, and haloed in sterile brilliance.

"Found it," Tom breathed, awe mixing with disbelief.

Nix said nothing. His eyes narrowed as he approached it, the faint light catching the edges of his face. The painting’s surface shimmered subtly, as though something beneath the brushstrokes was trying to breathe. He reached out, fingertips brushing the canvas then paused.

Something felt... wrong.

But before he could dwell on it, Luna’s voice cut in sharply.

"Move, Nix. We’ve got company."

He exhaled slowly, pulled out a blade, and sliced the painting free from its frame.

Within moments, they were retracing their steps through the maintenance corridor Suzy had opened for them, their boots barely making a sound. The red lights flashing through the glass behind them told a story, someone had triggered the breach alarm

By the time the sirens fully began to wail, the four of them were already back on the main deck. Nix slipped through the shadows, the rolled canvas secure in a waterproof tube on his back. The cool night air hit his face as they emerged from the lower hatch, sea breeze carrying the first bursts of fireworks from the distant shore.

They’d made it.

But Nix wasn’t celebrating.

Back in his cabin, the others dispersed while he set the painting down on his desk. Under the golden lamplight, his expression darkened as his eyes traced over a faint mark that hadn’t been visible before something embedded deep within the layers of paint. His pulse slowed, jaw tightening.

"So that’s what you’ve been hiding" he scoffed

He said nothing more, straightened himself, and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The man staring back at him didn’t look like someone who had just pulled off a theft beneath the nose of one of the most powerful men alive. His hair was tousled, his eyes a deep pool of control and quiet fury, his jawline set like marble.

He exhaled slowly, rolling back his shoulders, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he adjusted his cufflinks. The quiet tick of his wristwatch filled the cabin, the only sound that dared to exist in his silence. He reached for the wardrobe, fingers brushing past a row of dark garments until they stopped on one a crisp black tuxedo, tailored to perfection, its satin lapels gleaming under the low golden light.

He slid the jacket on with precision, fastening each button like he was assembling armor. The red tie lay waiting on the counter, a stark contrast against the monochrome fabric. He looped it slowly, watching his own reflection tighten it with cold elegance. The mirror caught the faint scar along his collarbone a mark from another life, another war and for a brief second, his gaze lingered on it before he tucked it beneath the pristine shirt.

Polished black shoes clicked softly against the floor as he crossed the room. He reached for a small silver pin engraved with the Dean family crest and fixed it to his lapel. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, and precise the calm before a storm he knew was inevitable.

When he finally turned off the lamp, the room sank into half-darkness, leaving only the reflection of the sea shimmering through the porthole. He picked up the glass tube containing the painting, ran his thumb along its edge as though sealing a promise, and placed it carefully inside the hidden compartment of his suitcase.

Then, with a faint smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, Nix stepped out.

The corridor was alive with muffled sounds of music and chatter from above deck. Golden sconces cast reflections across the polished floor, and the faint scent of sea salt and champagne filled the air. His stride was smooth and deliberate, every movement commanding attention even in his solitude.

By the time he reached the elevator leading up to the ballroom, two stewards in white uniforms straightened instinctively, their conversation dying mid-sentence. Nix didn’t speak; a single nod from him was enough to freeze them in place as the elevator doors slid shut.

A soft chime announced his arrival at the grand ballroom level and the doors opened to a world of decadence.

Crystal chandeliers spilled light like liquid gold, scattering across glassware and sequined gowns. A soft waltz floated through the air, blending with laughter and the distant pop of fireworks from the upper deck. Waiters glided like ghosts between guests dressed in silk and diamonds.

As Nix stepped inside, heads turned. Conversations faltered. There was something in the way he walked an aura that silenced the noise without demanding it. His eyes scanned the room briefly, cataloguing every face, every possible threat, every hidden intention masked by a smile.

His expression remained unreadable, his composure perfect.

He moved toward the bar, his reflection fractured by the mirrored shelves of champagne bottles behind it. He poured himself a drink, the liquid amber and still stood at ease, blending with the grandeur of the room yet standing distinctly apart from it.

And as the orchestra swelled, the midnight-blue sea visible through the tall glass windows, Nix Dean polished, unreadable, and lethal beneath the calm raised his glass slightly.

The party had just begun.

But for him... the night was far from over.

But the atmosphere changed the instant Camillo appeared on the balcony above, his gaze locked on Nix. The smile that curved his lips didn’t reach his eyes.

"So... you did come even after performing the theft," Camillo said, voice smooth but sharp as glass.

"I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. And also it is wrong for Mr Sorrento to address me as a thief when clearly he has no evidence to back his claims.. I can sue you for defamation you know," Nix replied coolly, pouring himself a glass of champagne.

The tension was palpable like a string drawn too tight.

Then, as if fate demanded more fuel for the fire, a voice from the crowd called out:

"What’s your relationship with Mr Sorrento’s second daughter Mr Dean despite being a widower to her late sister?"

The room went silent. Heads turned. Cameras flashed. Elisa, who had just stepped into the ballroom in a soft silver gown while holding little Nyxella’s hand, froze mid-step.

Nix’s lips curved into a faint calm, and dangerous smirk.

"My relationship?" he said, letting the pause linger. "She’s under my mentorship now."

The crowd exchanged puzzled murmurs.

Nix lifted his glass, his voice cutting through the music like ice.

"Elisa will be learning directly under me... to take over T$C Construction Group which is eventually, her sister’s company."

The room erupted, gasps, whispers, flashes of disbelief. Even Camillo’s composed mask faltered.

Elisa’s eyes widened, the words barely registering before the weight of them sank in. For a split second, her breath hitched, the room felt colder, the chandelier lights sharper, every gaze turning toward her like knives.

"What... are you talking about, Nix?" she asked, her voice trembling under a fragile calm that betrayed the storm within her.

She tried to smile and tried to act as though it were some elaborate joke of his but her lips faltered halfway. His eyes were on her unwavering, unreadable, and far too knowing. That gaze lingered on her longer than it should have, like a blade pressing softly against her throat.

Something twisted in her chest confusion, fear, guilt, she couldn’t tell. He knew something. She could see it in the way his jaw tightened, in the subtle shift of his expression that no one else caught. The music played on, but for Elisa, every note sounded distant, hollow.

She swallowed hard, forcing her gaze down to pick her little one up "You can’t be serious..." she whispered, but even she didn’t believe the words.

And when he finally looked away offering a faint, knowing smile to the stunned audience Elisa’s pulse thundered in her ears. For the first time, she wished she could read what was behind those dark, piercing eyes... because if her suspicions were right, then Nix Dean hadn’t just discovered something, he’d confirmed it

He simply looked her way once again his expression unreadable calm on the surface, but with something buried deep beneath it. Something only he knew.

The orchestra began to play again, almost as if on cue. The guests, still murmuring, tried to mask their confusion with nervous laughter. But the air was thick electric with unease, anticipation, and secrets left unspoken.

And as the first fireworks burst across the night sky outside, Nix’s gaze lingered on Elisa not with affection, nor with malice.

But with knowing.

Something had changed.

And no one, not even Elisa herself could tell what was coming next except him.