Chapter 213 The Hundred-Million Trap

Chapter 213 The Hundred-Million Trap

She could not let it go.

The elevator doors slid open. She strode toward the underground parking garage, her heels clicking sharply against the concrete. She climbed into her car and slammed the door.

Her fingers trembled as she dialed the encrypted number.

"I want the hitman's contact information." Her voice came out raw and guttural, like something crawling out of a grave. "Right now. Immediately."

The synthesized voice on the other end remained cold and mechanical. "Client information is confidential."

"I'll pay more." Skylar's voice cracked into a scream, her sanity shredded by jealousy. "I don't care what it takes. I need to see Sylvia's corpse. Now."

Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of the medical room on Sapphire Sky Guild's private island, casting soft golden stripes across Sylvia's bed.

Early that morning, a gentle knock sounded at the door.

John stepped inside, carrying a breakfast tray. Steam rose from a bowl of oatmeal, delicate shrimp dumplings sat arranged on a porcelain plate, and a glass of warm milk completed the spread. His face wore an expression Frank had never seen before, something almost resembling warmth.

He set the tray carefully on the bedside table, his voice unusually gentle as he addressed Sylvia and the just-waking Garth. "Eat up. Growing kids need their nutrition."

Frank, who had followed him in, froze in the doorway.

Was this really the same man they called the Iron King? The one known throughout the organization for his ruthless efficiency and stone-cold demeanor?

That smile was unsettling enough to send chills down Frank's spine.

John caught his stare. The smile vanished instantly. He turned and glared, his voice snapping back to its usual edge. "What are you standing there for? Go get Garth some clean clothes."

Frank's jaw tightened. He bit back a curse, something about uncles who forgot their nephews the second a niece showed up, and left to find the clothes.

John turned back to Sylvia, his tone softening again. "Take your time recovering. If you need anything, tell Frank. Or come to me directly. Don't hesitate."

The contrast could not have been more obvious.

After John left, Frank returned with a small set of tactical training clothes. He sidled up to Sylvia, lowering his voice, his expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "Sylvia, I swear he looks at you like you're some kind of priceless artifact."

Sylvia just smiled and said nothing.

Frank's phone buzzed. He answered, spoke briefly, and his face shifted, confusion mixed with something darker. When he hung up, he walked straight to Sylvia and held out his phone.

On the screen was Coffin Organization's internal bounty page.

"Sylvia. Look at this."

Sylvia glanced down. Her photo stared back at her, and beneath it, the bounty had skyrocketed from seven figures to a glaring eight.

She raised an eyebrow, stirring her oatmeal with casual interest. "Looks like my phone call last night really got under someone's skin. Not bad. My stock's going up."

Frank's mouth twitched. He had long since stopped being surprised by her thought process. He scrolled down, his expression darkening. "They just contacted me, pushing me to move fast. And they said if I finish the job, they'll throw in another five million dollars."

"Oh?" Sylvia finally set down her spoon, a cold glint flickering in her eyes.

"They think we're idiots." Frank snorted, his mind already working. "Sylvia, we might as well milk this. I'll string them along and squeeze every cent out of them."

Sylvia shook her head.

She reached out and took the phone from him, her lips curving into a razor-thin smile.

"No need to make it complicated."

She stared at the unfamiliar number on the screen, then hit redial. Frank's eyes widened as she lifted the phone to her ear.

The call connected almost immediately. A woman's voice came through, sharp and desperate. "Well? Did you find her?"

Skylar.

Sylvia's smile widened. She spoke slowly and deliberately, her voice distorted by the modulator. "Ms. Reed, I found her. But if you want her dead, it's going to cost you a hundred million dollars. Not a penny less."

Silence.

Dead, suffocating silence.

Frank's palms started sweating. He thought Sylvia had lost her mind. A hundred million? That was not negotiating. That was scaring off the client entirely.

But Sylvia's expression stayed calm, that cold smile never wavering.

She knew Skylar's type. When jealousy took over, the only logic left was eliminating the threat at any cost.

A high price would not scare her off. It would provoke her.

Sure enough, after a long pause, Skylar's voice came through, hoarse and strangled with rage. "Fine... a hundred million. You'll get it."

"Deal." Sylvia's tone was flat and businesslike. She ended the call without another word.

Frank stood frozen, staring at the phone, then at Sylvia, his face a mask of disbelief. "Sylvia... she actually agreed?"

"What did you expect?" Sylvia tossed the phone back to him and picked up her bowl, resuming her breakfast as if nothing had happened.

"Holy hell." Frank slapped his thigh, his expression shifting to something close to worship. "Sylvia, how did you know she'd say yes? That's a hundred million dollars."

Lisa, who had been eavesdropping from the corner, hurried over, her curiosity written all over her face.

Sylvia swallowed the last spoonful of oatmeal, dabbed her lips with a napkin, and spoke with the patience of a professor explaining a simple concept. "You can't negotiate with people like her using normal logic."

She tapped her temple. "Her goal isn't to save money. It's to vent. The higher I set the price, the more it validates her belief that I'm worth destroying. She'll convince herself that spending a fortune to get rid of me means she's won. She's not buying my death. She's buying back her pathetic sense of superiority."

Frank and Lisa stared at her, processing the psychological warfare she had just laid out. Slowly, they both nodded, like students absorbing a lesson.

Just as they were digesting this, a small voice piped up.

Garth, who had been sitting quietly the whole time, raised his spoon and looked at Frank with complete seriousness. "Uncle Frank, when we get that hundred million dollars, how are we splitting it?"

Frank and Lisa fell silent.

Staring at Garth's earnest little face, already planning his cut, Sylvia finally lost it. She laughed out loud.