Chapter 124
Marcus's POV
Father's warning echoed in my ears—"Return immediately, shut down all covert operations, or I'll personally strip you of the heir position." If I sent forces to attack Sullivan's manor now, it would be an open declaration of war, and Father would definitely kick me off the heir throne.
Moreover, even if I sent people in, Olivia was likely already dead—Gabriel wouldn't show mercy.
My gaze gradually chilled.
"Don't send anyone." I said flatly. "Let fate decide."
Felix hesitated: "But Olivia—"
"If she comes out alive, the engagement continues." I interrupted, tone cold as discussing dinner plans. "If she's dead... Montague's territories are still mine. Russell's finished—his warehouses, transport lines, underground casinos all need new management."
Silence stretched for two seconds on the other end. I could imagine Felix's expression—probably shocked by my callousness. But these were underworld rules: the weak die, the strong survive, no one sheds tears over worthless chess pieces.
"Understood." Felix finally replied.
I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes.
Olivia's survival no longer mattered to me—alive, she could help stabilize Montague's remnants; dead, I could appear as the "grief-stricken fiancé," blame her death on Gabriel, creating public opinion foundation for future moves against Sullivan.
Either outcome worked in my favor.
"By the way." I opened my eyes. "Monitor the situation closely—once Russell's confirmed dead or defeated, immediately send people to quietly absorb his assets. Warehouses, transport lines, underground casinos—not one can fall into Gabriel's hands. Remember, move discreetly, don't let Father discover this."
Felix hesitated: "Boss, if the family head finds out—"
I laughed coldly: "He only demanded I 'not confront Sullivan,' never said I couldn't scavenge Russell's corpse. Two different things."
"Understood."
After hanging up, I stared at the night scene outside, lips curving into a sardonic arc. Father thought one phone call could make me retreat? Too naive. I, Marcus, never let others lead me by the nose—surface compliance, covert action. As long as I didn't directly war with Gabriel, Father had no grounds to accuse me.
The driver's voice broke through my thoughts: "Back to the manor, sir?"
I nodded, and the vehicle started, pulling away from the high ground. I sat in the back seat, watching city lights gradually recede in the rearview mirror, mind rapidly processing everything Father had revealed tonight—his distrust, his prepared replacements, his willingness to discard me at any moment.
Father's attitude tonight had been crystal clear—he didn't trust me, was ready to replace me with bastards at any time. All these years, I'd worked to prove myself.
But in the end, he still treated me like a chess piece he could discard whenever convenient.
"Since you can strip my inheritance rights anytime..." I murmured, eyes cold as a viper's, "I might as well just become family head directly."
I pulled out another encrypted phone, and despite the fury burning through my veins, my fingers remained steady as I dialed the family internal line. Gage answered—head of security, my most loyal subordinate, with me for over a decade, absolutely reliable.
"Gage, I need you to do several things." My voice carried terrifying calm.
"Yes, sir."
"First, investigate all of Father's bastards' whereabouts. Especially those secretly cultivated, potential replacements for me—where they live, daily schedules, how many bodyguards, what weaknesses, compile everything into files."
Two seconds of silence: "Understood. What else?"
"Second, prepare 'accident' scenarios. Car crashes, drownings, drug overdoses, gas leaks... stagger timing and locations so they can't be connected. Remember, make it clean, leave no traces."
Gage's breathing grew heavy: "You mean—"
"I mean, prepare." I cut him off. "Don't execute yet, but once I give the order... leave no survivors."
"Understood." Gage finally replied.
I continued: "Third, Father's recent schedule, bodyguard configurations, his private doctor's medication lists—compile everything. Also, find out where his will is stored, who the beneficiaries are."
This time, Gage's silence lasted even longer.
"Boss..." His voice strained slightly. "You're planning to—"
"I'm preparing for the family's future." I said coldly. "Father's old, his judgment declining. Tonight he actually demanded I abandon opportunities because he fears Gabriel—such cowardly leadership doesn't deserve to run the Donovan family."
"But—"
"No buts." My tone brooked no argument. "Just do what I say, don't worry about the rest. Remember, these are 'preventive preparations'—I won't act rashly. But if Father really tries to eliminate me... then he can't blame me for retaliating."
After hanging up, I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes, letting the weight of what I'd just set in motion settle over me.
I knew exactly what I was doing—plotting to eliminate bastards, even preparing to move against Father. This wasn't ordinary power struggle anymore, but outright rebellion and patricide. If exposed, I'd lose everything: heir status, family resources, even my life.
But I had no retreat left.
Father didn't trust me, bastards circled like vultures, Gabriel pressed closer—everything reminded me: if I didn't strike first, this world would devour me.
"Rather than wait to be kicked off the throne..." I opened my eyes, madness and resolve burning in their depths, "I'll flip the table myself."
Outside the window, city neon lights flickered through the darkness. I gazed at my reflection in the glass—that nearly perfect handsome face now showed only sinister calculation and madness.
The highway gave way to familiar streets as we approached Donovan territory. I picked up my phone again, confirming the final pieces had fallen into place. Felix answered on the first ring.
"What's the situation?"
"Russell confirmed dead." Felix's voice carried tension. "Gabriel exposed Olivia's conspiracy with you to bomb Adrian right in front of him—Russell died in despair from a headshot. Montague core members suffered massive casualties, remaining forces leaderless and scattering."
Satisfaction curved my lips.
Russell was dead. Montague family completely collapsed. Without that madman, the remaining rabble couldn't sustain a gang. And I only needed to apply slight pressure to claim all their territories.
"Excellent." I said. "Proceed as planned—infiltrate Montague's warehouses and transport lines, take over their territories under the guise of 'protecting Montague's orphans and widows.' Move fast, don't let other factions beat us to it."
"Understood."
After hanging up, I leaned back, watching scenery fly past outside.
Russell dead, Montague family in name only, Olivia a corpse—this war's outcome, while not the mutual destruction I'd hoped for, wasn't too bad. At least Gabriel exposed his manor's defensive layout, while I successfully absorbed Montague's remnants, my strength actually increased.
More importantly, Olivia's death provided perfect justification—I could use "avenging my fiancée" as moral high ground for future attacks on Gabriel. The public would sympathize with me, this "tragic male lead who lost his love," would condemn Gabriel's "brutal violence," would stand on my side in public opinion.
Then, I could legitimately destroy Sullivan, seize everything Gabriel had—including his territories, his power, and Isabella.
"Gabriel..." I murmured, eyes cold as a snake's, "you think killing Russell means you've won? No... the real game has just begun."
The vehicle entered Donovan manor's private drive, streetlights casting dim yellow light through the darkness. I gazed at the brightly lit mansion ahead—where Father lived, that old man ready to replace me with bastards at any moment.
"Once I clean house internally..." A twisted smile curved my lips. "The next one lying in a pool of blood will be you."
The vehicle stopped at the manor entrance. I pushed open the door and stepped out. Night wind blew past, carrying early spring chill, but my heart was colder than any wind.
I looked up at Father's second-floor study window—lights still burning, the old man probably waiting for me to "apologize." I laughed coldly, straightened my suit, plastered on a refined, elegant smile, and strode through the manor gates.
On the surface, I was the obedient son returning to placate Father.
But in reality, I'd already sentenced every "threat" in this family to death.
Everyone blocking my path to power would disappear, one by one.
And I, Marcus Donovan, would become this city's true master.