Chapter 133: Chapter Eighty Two

Gabriel

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I smiled triumphantly and rose to my feet, savoring the flicker of defeat in Kenneth’s eyes. “I already knew the bastard was behind it, but I wanted to be sure.”

My fingers deftly buttoned my suit jacket — a small ritual I clung to whenever I needed control. “Rene, drop him off at the police station. Paco and I will pay a visit to Vincent Harvey.”

“Yes, sir,” Rene nodded, expression stoic but eyes glinting with approval.

“Thank you for your help, guys,” I said, extending a hand toward them, a rare show of gratitude.

“You don’t have to thank us, sir,” Paco replied, gripping my hand firmly. “We’d do anything for the boss.”

The boss. Meaning my father. No matter what I accomplished, I would always live under his shadow — the great Cruz patriarch.

They were part of his security detail, alongside Dante Ferrante, who happened to be married to my aunt Raina, Dad’s twin sister. Family ties ran deep in this business, whether you wanted them to or not.

Kenneth’s bloodshot eyes lifted toward me. “I’m going to make you pay for this, Cruz.”

I almost laughed. Even strapped to a chair, beaten within an inch of his life, the bastard still had the audacity to threaten me. “Don’t make promises you won’t be able to keep. You’re going to a real prison this time,” I told him, voice cold and even. “And I’m going to make sure you never see the light of day again.”

I turned on my heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another glance, and strode toward the door with Paco. The metallic clang of the lock echoed like a final verdict behind us.

\~~~~~~~

Vincent looked like a deer caught in headlights the moment I stepped into his office. He was mid-motion, shoving papers into a box — running, as usual. Cowards always ran.

For a fleeting second, I savored the timing. I hadn’t wasted a second after Kenneth’s confession, and judging by Vincent’s frantic packing, I’d arrived just in time.

The man had been preparing to vanish — sell off his properties to the highest bidder and disappear into obscurity. Not this time.

“C… Cruz. What are you doing here?” His voice cracked, feigning composure but betraying fear.

“What does it look like?” I smirked, stepping further into the room with deliberate calm. “I heard you were planning to relocate, and I thought I’d come see you.”

“Relocate? I’m not going anywhere,” he lied, voice too quick, too smooth.

“Aren’t you?” I arched a brow, savoring the panic in his eyes. “Didn’t you contact several companies, trying to sell your company? You did contact Vital Comforts, didn’t you? You must have forgotten that my father owns a majority of the shares in the hotel. He’s like a partner of sorts.”

“I’m not selling my company,” he insisted, his frown tight. “You heard wrong.”

“Whatever.” I waved it off. “I didn’t come here for that.” I advanced into the office, my footsteps deliberate and heavy on the polished floor. “I don’t know if you have a retentive memory, but I’m quite sure I promised you I’d send a copy of your company’s ledger to the FIRS if you tried anything stupid with me. Do you remember?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, trying to look affronted. “I’ve been out of the country for weeks.”

“Hm.” I squinted at him, pretending to consider his words while already knowing the truth. “Does that mean you didn’t send Kenneth Paulinus to kill me weeks ago? I mean, you traveled out of the country just two weeks ago, and the shooting happened two weeks before that.”

His face twitched — barely noticeable, but I caught it. Guilt always left breadcrumbs.

“Are you accusing me of something here, Cruz?”

“Duh!” I sent him a mocking smile. “You promised to make me pay, didn’t you? You threatened me on multiple occasions — and I recorded every single one of those conversations.”

I exhaled, feigning nonchalance. “Anyway, I’ve already sent that ledger to the headquarters of the FIRS. They should be knocking on your door any minute now.”

“You can’t do this to me!” His voice rose in a desperate hiss, hands clenching at his desk. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Kenneth is at the police station right now, giving his statement,” I told him, savoring the shift in his expression — the dawning realization that the walls were closing in. “I have two policemen outside waiting to arrest you.”

As if on cue, the door swung open, and two uniformed officers strode inside.

“Voilà,” I murmured, almost to myself.

“Mr. Vincent Harvey, you’re under arrest for attempted murder,” one of the officers recited, pulling out handcuffs. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Vincent cried, his voice cracking as the cuffs snapped shut around his wrists. He struggled, but it was futile. “Cruz!”

“Buh-bye.” I waved lazily, almost cheerfully.

“You’ll pay for this!” he screamed as they dragged him toward the door.

“There it is,” I chuckled, clapping my hands together with mock delight. “I was waiting for that threat. Took you long enough.” I glanced at Paco, who stood impassive beside me. “Feels good to get revenge, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” Paco replied simply.

I let my gaze sweep across Vincent’s office — the mahogany desk, the scattered files, the carefully curated veneer of power that would crumble in days.

Soon, the FIRS would swarm this place. Sky Tech would be dismantled. Vincent Harvey’s empire would collapse, brick by brick.

The only people I pitied were his employees. Innocent collateral. They would lose everything — paychecks, security, stability — all because their boss had chosen the wrong side in this war.

“Let’s go,” I murmured, nodding toward the exit.

As I stepped out of the office, a cold satisfaction settled in my chest. Revenge was so much sweeter when served ice cold. I’d killed two birds with one stone… and a third was coming soon.

\~~~~~~

“Good job, son,” Dad remarked as we both watched the evening news flicker across the flat screen. His voice was calm, but there was something guarded beneath it — like he wanted to congratulate me, but couldn’t quite bring himself to mean it.

“Thanks,” I muttered, leaning back into the leather couch. “I couldn’t have done it without Gabi.”

His head snapped toward me, brows furrowing in silent question. He didn’t need to speak — his expression screamed what are you talking about?

“If she hadn’t come in to annoy me today… I wouldn’t have bothered going to pay Kenneth a visit,” I explained, my tone edged with sarcasm.

“Her visit pissed me off and I vented my anger on him. Glad I didn’t waste time, though, because Vincent was planning to run away.”

“About that,” Dad muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Gabi told us.”

“I figured.” My reply came out dry, almost dismissive.

A heavy sigh escaped him — a sound that had become far too familiar between us lately. “I don’t know what to say, son.”

“Then… don’t say anything,” I replied sharply. My patience had been stretched to breaking point. “I’ve made up my mind about this.”