Chapter 186 Chapter Ninety-One: The Destruction Of The Thornes (Part 5: The Family Has Fallen).
Chapter 186 Chapter Ninety-One: The Destruction Of The Thornes (Part 5: The Family Has Fallen).
Chapter Ninety-One: The Destruction Of The Thornes (Part 5: The Family Has Fallen).
Ileana didn’t move.
The words sat between them, heavy and suffocating, as if the room itself had lost air.
Rachel was Silas’s daughter.
Not adopted. Not replaced.
Her biological sister.
Elise spoke quickly, as though afraid silence might undo her courage.
“Silas had an affair,”
she said.
“Years ago. With his secretary—Angeline Loman. She got pregnant around the same time as me.”
Ileana’s gaze never left her face.
“She also had a daughter. She named her Abigail,”
Elise continued quietly.
“That was her real name.”
For a long moment, Ileana said nothing. Then—slowly—she exhaled.
“Hmm.”
A faint, humorless smile tugged at her lips.
“Rachel suits her better.”
The bitterness in her voice made Elise flinch.
“So,”
Ileana said, folding her arms,
“let me guess. My father decided he could solve two problems at once.”
Elise swallowed.
“Ileana—”
“Replace one daughter with another,”
Ileana finished. A sharp laugh escaped her throat.
“Efficient. Cold. Very Silas.”
She shook her head, eyes darkening.
“No wonder he didn’t care,”
she continued.
“He never truly lost anything. He just… transferred ownership.”
Elise’s shoulders sagged, the weight of the truth pressing down on her.
“You’re right,”
she whispered.
Ileana shook her head,
“That’s why the blood test matched. Rachel was always his.”
She let out a quiet breath.
“Wow.”
Elise lowered her head.
“Ileana, I— I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t,”
Ileana said immediately. Her voice wasn’t sharp, just final.
“It’s not necessary anymore.”
Elise looked up, tears streaking her cheeks.
“I appreciate you telling me the truth,”
Ileana continued, softer now.
“But it doesn’t change anything.”
The silence stretched.
Elise wiped at her face, knowing better than to argue. She had done nothing to earn forgiveness—nothing to deserve it.
Then Ileana spoke again.
“Elise… why are you really here?”
Elise stiffened.
She glanced toward the two-way mirror embedded in the wall. After a beat, she nodded once.
“If you’re listening,”
she said, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands,
“you can come in now, Generals.”
Ileana turned sharply toward the glass. Had they been listening the entire time?
The door opened.
Walter and Edward stepped inside. Neither met her eyes at first.
“Ilie—”
Walter began.
“It’s okay,”
Ileana said, cutting him off gently. She gave a faint, knowing smile.
“I figured you’d be listening. I would have.”
Walter nodded, guilt etched deep into his expression. Edward murmured an apology as they took their seats.
Edward leaned forward.
“Mrs. Thorne, it’s time you told us everything. Why come forward now?”
Elise’s jaw tightened.
“I have a family full of monsters,”
she said flatly.
Walter and Edward exchanged a look.
“Yesterday,”
Elise continued, voice trembling,
“after we left the station… I watched my husband and children talk about my daughter’s death as if it were nothing. As casually as ordering dinner.”
Ileana’s fists clenched in her lap. Her breathing hitched.
“Are you saying they’re planning to—”
“No,”
Elise interrupted quickly.
“Not them.”
She hesitated. Then—
“But Wyatt Matthews is.”
The room went still.
“You’re saying Wyatt Matthews is planning to harm Ileana?”
Edward asked, his voice tight.
Elise nodded.
“According to Silas, yes. He’s obsessed with her.”
Ileana felt her stomach drop.
“He gave Rachel the Doxoten,”
Elise went on.
“But it wasn’t meant for Lorina Kely. It was meant for Ileana.”
The word ‘murder’ echoed in Ileana’s mind.
Walter leaned forward sharply.
“You’re saying he gave Rachel Doxoten back in October?”
“Yes.”
“So he knew who Ileana was the entire time.”
“Yes.”
Elise spoke for a long time after that.
She told them everything—about Wyatt, about Patrick Cleese, about Lorina Kely. About Silas’s suspicions regarding Alister Kade’s death. The shell companies. The hidden accounts. The bribes.
She didn’t leave out Rachel’s role.
“Rachel murdered Lorina,”
Elise said hoarsely.
“And Jason… Jason murdered Corey.”
“Actually,”
Walter interjected,
“Corey isn’t dead.”
Elise froze.
“What?”
“He’s in a coma,”
Walter said,
“but he’s alive.”
A shaky breath escaped Elise’s lips—relief, tangled with shame.
After her statement ended, Walter and Edward stood.
“We finally have enough,”
Walter said grimly.
“To arrest the Thornes—and Wyatt Matthews.”
He pulled out his phone.
“Davidson,”
he said briskly as he stepped into the hall,
“get me arrest warrants for—”
Edward made his own call.
“Bring in Officer Rhinestone,”
he said.
“He was paid to place the Doxoten on Cleese.”
Edward turned back to Elise.
“Mrs. Thorne, General Levings will likely offer you a deal for hindering prosecution. Child endangerment charges are beyond the statute of limitations.”
Elise nodded numbly.
“I’d advise you to get an attorney.”
“I will.”
Edward left the room, leaving Elise alone with Ileana.
Slowly, Ileana stood and wiped her cheeks.
“Thank you,”
she said quietly.
“For coming forward.”
Elise looked up, her face wrecked with grief.
“I know you don’t believe me… but I do love you, Ileana.”
Ileana said nothing. She turned to leave.
“Ileana!”
Elise called suddenly.
Ileana paused.
Elise managed a small, broken smile.
“Ilie… that suits you better too.”
For the first time, Ileana smiled—just barely. Then she walked out.
Elise sank back into her chair and lit a cigarette with shaking hands.
The door opened again. Her head snapped up.
“I know you,”
Elise said sharply.
“You’re Violet Norrison. You were on the report when we found Ileana. What are you—”
Violet stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
“I think it’s time,”
she said calmly,
“that you and I had a conversation… about my niece.”
\------
Silas sat alone in his study, his fingers clenched so tightly around his cellphone that his knuckles had gone white.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly—too loudly.
It had been hours since Elise left to go shopping. Hours since she said she needed “air.” Hours since she’d stopped answering him.
He looked down at the screen again.
Unread.
His jaw tightened. He scrolled.
\[Elise, what time will you be home\[?
\[Where are you?\]
\[I said we need to talk.\]
\[Why are you ignoring me!\]
\[Elise… let’s handle this together.\]
Silas exhaled sharply through his nose.
“Damn it,”
he muttered.
He stood abruptly, pacing the length of the study. The walls—lined with awards, family portraits, proof of his legacy—felt like they were closing in on him.
Where the hell could she be? His chest tightened.
“Aghh!”
He grabbed the crystal tumbler from his desk and hurled it across the room.
CRASH!
Glass exploded against the far wall, shards skittering across the floor like tiny blades. Silas stared at the wreckage, breathing hard—his reflection fractured in every jagged piece.
Just like his family.
“No,”
he growled under his breath.
“No, this is not happening.”
He turned back to his desk and snatched up his phone again, swiping to his contacts.
His assistant.
Just as his thumb hovered over the call button—
“DAD!”
Silas spun around. Mason stood in the doorway, pale and breathless.
“What is it, boy—”
Silas snapped.
Mason swallowed.
“The police are here.”
The words hit him like a blow.
“The… what?”
Silas said slowly.
“Police,”
Mason repeated, his voice shaking.
“They’re downstairs. A lot of them.”
Silas froze.
Police? Why would the police be here?
A cold knot formed in his stomach as his gaze drifted back to his phone. Still unread. Still silent.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Elise…”
He swallowed hard.
“What did you do?”
Without another word, he brushed past Mason and strode out of the study.
The foyer was already crowded.
Uniformed officers filled the space, their presence heavy and unmistakable. And standing among them—hands folded calmly behind his back—was Edward Trevosty.
Edward looked up. Their eyes met. A slow, knowing smirk curved Edward’s lips. Silas felt heat rush to his face.
“What the hell is this?”
Silas barked.
“This is an abuse of power! My lawyer explicitly told you not to set foot in my home without his knowledge!”
Edward took a step forward, unbothered.
“Oh, that’s right,”
he said mildly.
“He did.”
Silas scoffed and yanked his phone from his pocket.
“Good. Then I’ll call him right now. We’ll see how long you keep playing these games—”
“That’s a great idea,”
Edward interrupted smoothly.
Silas paused.
Edward leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to sting.
“And while you’re at it… let him know the truth.”
Silas’s breath caught.
“T-The truth?”
he stammered.
“What truth—”
Edward moved fast.
In one swift motion, he turned Silas around and snapped cold metal around his wrists.
Click.
The sound echoed through the foyer.
Edward’s voice was calm. Almost bored.
“Silas Thorne, you are under arrest… for murder.”
The world tilted. Silas’s knees nearly gave out as the words sank in.
“Murder?”
he choked.
“You can’t—this is insane! I demand—”
Footsteps thundered down the stairs.
“Dad?!”
Rachel, Jason, and Mason rushed into the foyer, their faces registering shock all at once.
Edward glanced at them and smiled thinly.
“Oh, good,”
he said.
“You’re all here.”
He turned to the officers.
“Arrest them.”
“What?!”
Rachel screamed.
“This is ridiculous! You can’t do this!”
Jason lunged forward.
“Get your hands off her!”
Officers moved in quickly.
“Dad! Say something!”
Rachel cried, struggling against their grip.
“DAD!”
Silas could only stare, his mouth opening and closing, no words coming out.
One by one, the Thornes were restrained.
Rachel screamed. Jason cursed. Mason stood frozen in disbelief.
And Silas—
Silas said nothing.
As he was led away, his gaze drifted back to the shattered glass in his study, visible through the open doorway.
His empire. His family. Gone.
Finally, the Thornes had fallen.
\-------
BREAKING NEWS: General Edward Trevosty has arrested Silas Thorne and his three children. Preliminary charges include murder, assault, and accessory to rape—
CLICK.
The television went black.
Wyatt exhaled slowly through his nose and leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping once against the armrest. For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of electricity.
“Of course,”
he muttered.
“Of course you’d fuck it up.”
He reached for the cigarette between his fingers, took one last drag, then crushed it into the ashtray with more force than necessary.
“Murder,”
he scoffed.
“Accessory to rape.”
A humorless laugh slipped out.
“You really couldn’t keep your hands—or your mouth—shut, could you, Thorne?”
Wyatt stood and crossed the room, stopping in front of the framed photograph on his desk. Ileana stared back at him from the image, caught mid-laugh, unaware. His expression softened, just slightly.
“They’re going to tear you apart Thorne,”
he said quietly, almost conversational.
“And when they do… you’ll sing. Men like you always do.”
He tilted his head, studying her face.
“You should’ve known better than to panic,”
he continued.
“You had everything handed to you, and you still managed to ruin it.”
Wyatt picked up the frame, his thumb brushing the edge.
“Now look at the mess you’ve made,”
he murmured.
“Dragging me into it.”
A pause. Then his lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile.
“Well,”
he said, setting the photo back down,
“I suppose that settles it.”
He turned toward the door, already reaching for his coat.
“No more waiting. No more distance.”
Wyatt glanced back at the picture one last time, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
“Our little date just moved up, my little owl.”