Chapter 250
Chapter 250
The doors of the armored SUV slammed open as he stepped out, coat whipping behind him like a storm wind.
His expression was carved from ice.
Not anger.
Not outrage.
Something colder.
Sharper.
Lethal.
In the distance, the towering gates of the Weng estate loomed in the early morning darkness, lights flickering as if the entire mansion sensed death approaching.
“Perimeter secure,” one guard reported, voice trembling despite years of experience. “All exits locked. Surveillance jammed.”
Lucien nodded once.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
“Good,” he said softly. “No one leaves.”
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
Every man he brought with him straightened, as if the very air commanded obedience.
“Launch the sweep,” Lucien ordered.
Instantly, black clad operatives fanned out across the estate, scaling walls, cutting through security, breaking locks. Lights began bursting on inside the mansion as the Weng family guards scrambled, but they were nothing against Lucien’s elite team.
Lucien walked straight through the chaos, untouched, unbothered, a king reclaiming land that never belonged to his enemies.
One guard ran toward him, attempting to stop him.
Lucien didn’t pause.
He shifted one step, grabbed the man by the collar, slammed him to the marble ground and stepped over him without a second glance.
His eyes were fixed on the main door.
“Arabelle Weng,” he said under his breath, voice deadly calm. “You wanted to use fear. Let me show you what fear actually looks like.”
He reached the mansion steps just as another explosion of gunfire sounded from the east wing, warning shots, his men forcing their way through another security barricade.
Lucien didn’t flinch. He had come prepared for war. And he would end one. Because Arabelle had touched Serena’s mother. And Lucien Feng only had one rule: Anyone who hurts what’s his… dies.
He stepped through the shattered front doors, his voice cold enough to freeze bone.
“Find her.”
And the operation escalated into something the Weng family would remember for the rest of their lives, if they survived it.
The great hall of the Weng estate was a cavern of cold marble and silent dread. Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead, but their brilliance only highlighted how pale and anxious the Weng family looked as Lucien Feng stepped inside.
He didn’t come with subtlety.
He came with an army.
Shadow black suits filed behind him, every man armed, every gaze fixed forward, forming a wall of silent fury. The servants trembled. Mrs. Weng clutched her pearls. The youngest son hid behind an aunt. The air itself seemed to stop breathing.
Only Mr. Weng dared to step forward.
He was sweating, he tried to hide it, but sweat still gathered at his temples. His jaw strained. His hands were clasped so tightly behind his back the knuckles turned white.
“Lucien,” he said, voice low, trying for authority, trembling instead. “You need to turn around. You don’t want this war.”
Lucien didn’t blink.
“I’m already in it.”
A wave of panic rippled through the room.
Mr. Weng swallowed hard, forcing calm. “You think you’re ready…but you don't understand what you’re stepping into. My family, my connections, we are not an enemy you engage blindly, Lucien. Not even you.”
Lucien took a slow step forward.
His men followed.
The marble tile cracked faintly under his heel.
“I spoke to you,” Lucien said, voice so cold the hall seemed to drop several degrees. “Multiple times. About your daughter. About what she was doing. About how deep she’d gone.”
Mr. Weng stiffened. His eyes flickered, guilt flashing before it hardened into pride.
“You speak of Arabelle as if you understand her,” he said. “But she is a Weng. Brilliant. Ambitious. I raised my children to be strong. To fight for their interests. To protect what is ours.”
Lucien laughed once, short, humorless.
“Is that what you think this is? Ambition?”
He took another step.
Guards braced.
The Weng family held their breath.
Lucien’s voice dropped into a dangerous, quiet register.
“Your daughter didn’t fight for her interests. She destroyed lives for them.”
Mr. Weng’s brow twitched, anger or fear, even he didn’t know.
“You’re overreacting...”
“She poisoned Serena.” Lucien’s words slammed into the air.
A gasp tore through the hall.
“You and I both know that,” Lucien continued, tone unnervingly controlled. “I came to you the first time. You said you’d ‘handle it internally.’ I let it go. Then she went after Serena again. I came back. You brushed it off as emotional irrationality.”
Mr. Weng’s lips tightened. He knew it was true. He had dismissed every warning, because Arabelle was his prized daughter.
Lucien’s eyes narrowed.
“And now? She threatened Serena’s mother. Pushed an elderly woman to the point of collapse." His jaw flexed. “My wife cried in my arms today, terrified she would lose her mother. Arabelle did that. Your child. Under your roof. Protected by you.”
Mr. Weng exhaled shakily before snapping, “Lucien, she is my daughter. I cannot simply punish her because you...”
“You think I care about what you can or cannot do?” Lucien’s voice cut through him like a blade.
Mr. Weng tried to stand straighter. “Arabelle made mistakes, yes, but...”
“Mistakes?”
Lucien stepped closer until they were only a few feet apart, tension electrifying the air.
“A mistake is dropping a glass. A mistake is losing your temper once. A mistake is breaking a rule.”
His voice darkened, venomous. “What she did was intentional. Repeated. Calculated.” He leaned in slightly. “She hurt the woman I love. Over. And over. And over.”
The Weng patriarch faltered.
Around them, the Weng family shook. Even his new wife took a step back, pressing a hand to her mouth.
Mr. Weng clenched his fists. “Lucien, listen to reason. If you retaliate, if you attack my daughter, this will ignite something neither of our families can stop.”