Chapter 302: Played Again

Chapter 302: Played Again

Dawn broke over Eldoria, and the snow finally stopped.

The group of four emerged from the underground chamber as a helicopter descended onto the clearing outside the slaughterhouse. The pilot was the same one who'd escorted Marcus back home—his demeanor toward Andrew bordered on reverent.

More than a bodyguard or employee, he carried himself like a devoted retainer... or rather, a mercenary.

Sophia studied the impeccably suited man with growing curiosity. Andrew's influence in Eldoria ran far deeper than she'd imagined.

Beyond the cabin windows, rotor blades thrummed. Inside, silence reigned.

Nate sat absorbed in his well-worn copy of Confessions of a Mask. Andrew reclined against the bulkhead with closed eyes. Sophia dozed against Michael's shoulder while he scrolled through Emerald City's morning headlines, one arm curved protectively around her waist.

"The soup was decent." Andrew's voice cut through the quiet without warning.

Michael glanced up to find Andrew's gaze sliding toward him beneath half-lowered lashes. "I'll grudgingly acknowledge your culinary skills."

Michael's lips curved. "Learned it for Sophia. She likes it."

Translation: Your approval is irrelevant. Sophia's enjoyment is all that matters.

Andrew emitted a barely audible huff before closing his eyes again.

Nate observed Andrew's every microexpression, his attention catching on a passage in his book: "Because I didn't know how to love properly, I murdered the one I loved—like those barbaric plunderers."

As he read the line aloud, Andrew's lashes trembled ever so slightly.

 

In the basement of an abandoned cold storage facility near the old harbor district, damp mildew couldn't quite mask the acrid chemical stench.

The rotting wooden door groaned open on rusted hinges, the sound setting teeth on edge.

Overhead LED panels cast a morgue-white glare across the space.

Moldy patches on the walls were hastily concealed behind surgical curtains still bearing suspicious brown stains.

On a metal-frame bed to the left lay an emaciated man, IV lines snaking into the veins of his wrists. Murky yellow fluid dripped steadily into his system.

His pupils had dilated. Dried foam crusted the corners of his mouth. His chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

The medical chart clipped to the footboard read "Test Subject #7" in letters traced over so many times the ink had turned black and waxy.

The central examination table was littered with blood-soaked cotton balls and used syringes jabbed haphazardly into a foam board. A brown bottle labeled "Propylhexedrine" lay toppled on its side, its mouth rimmed with half-congealed crimson liquid.

Most horrifying was the "achievement wall" on the right—hundreds of photographs pinned in dense rows. Each captured a different person mid-convulsion, mid-vomit, or in the throes of psychotic episode.

Jane stood in the corner, loading freshly calibrated compounds into glass ampoules.

"By my calculations, no matter how strong John's drug resistance is, he should be showing symptoms by now," she mused, her voice echoing off the concrete walls.

"Soon. Within forty-eight hours." The raspy voice emerged from the shadows, accompanied by shuffling footsteps. A man's gaunt face materialized in the half-light.

His features bore a striking seven-point resemblance to Andrew.

Jane's crimson lips curved into a delighted smile as she turned toward him. "Very soon, I'll have two obedient, well-behaved children."

 

Emerald City. Top floor of Vertex Innovations Group headquarters.

To keep Andrew's return under wraps, Sophia had ordered a company-wide holiday—even security wasn't allowed on-site.

The executive elevator descended directly from the penthouse to the underground garage, where armored vehicles with 5A-grade security ratings waited. Their tinted windows rendered the interiors completely opaque from outside.

"This car is yours. The driver's trustworthy, the vehicle's security rating is top-tier. Contact him whenever you need to go somewhere." Sophia sent the driver's contact information to Andrew's Facebook account before adding, "Since you don't want Joshua knowing you're back, stay at Applewood Estate. John's there too. I've stationed over a dozen guards—your safety is guaranteed."

"Take me to The Golden Spoon." Andrew's tone brooked no argument. He preferred his own territory to Sophia's properties.

Sophia didn't object, merely nodding to the driver through the rearview mirror. The vehicle changed course toward The Golden Spoon.

"Your change of clothes—" she began, only to be cut off.

"I can arrange that myself." Andrew's voice was absolute. He shot her a sidelong glance. "After living in Emerald City this long, one small matter won't destroy my entire network."

Sophia pressed her lips together. Clearly she'd underestimated him. Andrew's psychological resilience exceeded her expectations, as did the depth of his influence.

So... his sudden flight to Eldoria had been purely to avoid seeing her?

The car stopped at The Golden Spoon's rear entrance. Andrew blocked Sophia from following him out. "This is far enough. For the next therapy session, give me advance notice. Have Nate meet me at the restaurant."

Sophia was speechless. Still the same imperious, untouchable Mr. Smith after all.

"Fine. Have it your way."

As the vehicle pulled away, Andrew turned toward the entrance. A figure waited in the corridor's shadowed corner.

"Mr. Smith. Welcome back." Victor bowed. Once Andrew passed, he fell into step behind him. "Mr. Joshua contacted me. I delivered the asset transfer documents you'd prepared. I checked on Mr. John Smith last night—his condition isn't good. He's disoriented. If he has another episode, the sedatives may not work."

Andrew's stride faltered. So Jane's newly formulated compound was finally breaking John down.

"What's the progress on the antidote?" His voice was glacial.

Victor shook his head. "We've hit a wall."

Andrew's lips compressed into a harsh line. "An entire research team, and not a single breakthrough?"

His tone remained characteristically flat, but Victor detected the anger simmering beneath.

Jane had spent years secretly developing compounds to control John. Andrew had spent just as long trying to develop an antidote to free him.

But as John's condition deteriorated, the antidote research remained at a standstill. All they could do was use sedatives to stabilize his symptoms.

Even someone as patient as Andrew was reaching his limit.

Victor kept his mouth shut, knowing any response would only draw fire.

Andrew scoffed. "Useless. All of you."

 

Night descended over the city, temperatures plummeting.

The wind froze streetlamp light into pale yellow icicles. Bare branches scratched grotesque shadows across windows.

A ringtone shattered the silence. The caller ID flashed "Hank"—harbinger of disaster.

"Miss Sophia, Mr. Smith's condition has deteriorated!"

Sophia's heart seized. She tapped the driver's headrest. "Faster."

In Emerald City, the snow still hadn't stopped.