Chapter 129: My William

William? I froze in disbelief. Did Armand really call Mike William? The revelation spun in my mind, confusing me further.

Armand yanked Mike up by his collar, fury etched across his face. “Do you think you can outsmart me forever, William? You’re mistaken. No one can stop me from killing you. You stole everything from me—my father, the woman I loved, and the treasure that was rightfully mine! ”

“It wasn’t meant for you, Armand! ”Mike gasped, desperation coloring his voice. “It was meant to be donated to the orphanage where your father hid it!”

The weight of Mike’s words hit me hard. He was William, my William from the orphanage—the one I had trusted. My heart raced as the pieces of this dangerous puzzle began to fit together.

Armand's fist collided with Mike's face, and he stumbled back, blood spraying from his nose. I froze, barely able to process what I was witnessing. It felt like watching a brutal scene from an action movie—only this wasn’t fiction. It was terrifyingly real. Mike—no, William, the man I had known as Mike—was at the mercy of Armand, whose rage was palpable, his intent clear. He was out to kill.

“This is your end,” Armand growled, dragging Mike into the house and slamming the door shut behind him. My chest tightened with panic. I couldn’t let this happen.

Instinct took over, propelling me to the side of the house, where I crouched beneath a window, straining to hear through the walls. My heart raced, each thud pounding in my ears with Mike’s muffled screams. The sound was gut-wrenching—a mixture of agony and desperation.

I had to stop Armand. But how? My mind scrambled for a solution. The gemstones. They were valuable enough to buy anyone’s mercy—even Armand’s. It was a long shot, but it was all I had. I darted toward the front of the house, my hands trembling as I reached for the door, only to halt as it creaked open. I barely had time to duck into the shadows at the corner, my breath catching in my throat.

Mike’s screams filled the air again, louder this time. The sound of flesh meeting bone echoed through the walls, each impact making my stomach churn. I can’t wait any longer.

A rush of adrenaline surged through me. I bolted for the door and shoved it open with a kick. “Stop!” I shouted, my voice trembling. “Please, Armand, stop!”

What I saw next had frozen me. Mike lay crumpled on the floor, his face a crimson mask of blood, unmoving. Armand gripped a fistful of Mike’s hair; his gun pointed at his temple. But something was wrong. Lily Brinson—she should’ve been here. Why wasn’t she here? Her absence gnawed at me, sending a chill down my spine.

But there was no time to dwell on it. I had to save Mike.

Armand’s eyes flickered toward me, suspicion darkening his gaze. “Are you Lily or Rose?” His voice was venomous, every syllable dripping with doubt.

“I’m Rose,” I blurted out, my pulse racing. “Please don’t kill Mike. I’ll give you what you want—the gemstones; I’ll get them for you.”

“How do I know you’re Rose and not Lily?” Armand’s grip tightened, his gun pressing harder against Mike’s skull.

Panic swirled in my chest. I had no solid proof, nothing but my words. Then, without thinking, I said, “Because I don’t have Lily’s smile.” The words tumbled out, my voice shaking. “And I love our mother.”

Armand’s brow furrowed, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. He didn’t believe me. Why should he? The truth had become so twisted; even I was struggling to hold onto my identity.

Suddenly, Mike coughed, his voice ragged. “Lily... is three months pregnant,” he gasped.

“Yes!” I seized the opportunity. “Lily’s pregnant with Mike’s child,” I added quickly, desperate to keep him alive.

Armand’s expression wavered for a moment, but his grip remained firm, his gun steady. The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence. The truth was out, but it wasn’t enough. Not yet. And in that silence, I realized: This wasn’t just about saving Mike anymore. It was about survival—for all of us.

Armand shoved Mike aside, his movements slow and deliberate as he began to close the distance between us. My hand instinctively grazed the small knife tucked at my waist. The cold metal was a small comfort, a reminder that I wasn’t completely helpless. I gripped it tightly, steeling myself. I couldn’t afford to let him see any fear.

He stopped a few inches from me, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied my face. “Show me your belly,” he demanded his voice low and dangerous.

Without hesitation, I lifted my shirt, revealing my stomach. I couldn’t show weakness now.

“You’re not pregnant,” he sneered, his lip curling in disgust. Then, without warning, his hand whipped across my abdomen. The blow sent a sharp pain through my core.

“Stop! Don’t hurt her! ”Mike’s voice cracked through the air, his pain evident in every word.

Armand glanced over his shoulder at Mike, his expression cold. “I was just making sure she’s really Rose,” he muttered before turning back to Mike. His movements were fluid, almost too casual, as he strode back toward him. “Now,” he said with a cruel smirk, “for the end of your agony, William.” He knelt beside Mike, shoving him roughly, Mike’s limp body barely reacting to the abuse.

“No!” I screamed, my voice breaking. “Please, don’t hurt him!”

Armand’s gaze flicked to me, his eyes filled with something far more dangerous than anger—calculated malice. “You still believe this man is what you knew he was as Mike?” His tone was mocking, as though I were nothing but a naïve fool. “I tracked down his cosmetic surgeon,” he hissed, stepping closer to Mike, pressing the heel of his boot into his back. “The man who changed his face—his last pathetic attempt to hide from me.”

My heart sank. Cosmetic surgery? I turned to Mike, his bloody face a blur of pain and suffering. It felt like the floor was shifting beneath me.

“But I’m smarter than this coward,” Armand continued, his voice dripping with triumph. “I followed the breadcrumbs from the day Lily Brinson saved him all the way to this moment. And now, thanks to you, I’ve captured him.”

My head spun. I could barely breathe. Because of me. This was my fault. Mike—William—was about to die because of a choice I made.

“Please,” I whispered, desperation clawing at my throat. “Please don’t kill him. I’ll do anything, Armand. I’ll get the gemstones for you. I’ll give you whatever you want. Just... let him live.”

Armand paused, his eyes flickering with something—contemplation, perhaps. He wasn’t beyond cruelty, but he wasn’t beyond greed, either.

For a brief moment, hope sparked in my chest. Just maybe I could still save him.

Armand’s eyes gleamed with cold, unwavering resolve. His voice was sharp as a knife when he gave the order, “Gag him and tie him to the couch.”

Without hesitation, his men descended on Mike like vultures. They hauled him up, ignoring his weak protests, and slammed him onto the couch. His body, already battered and bruised, crumpled under their force. A muffled groan escaped his lips as they bound his wrists and ankles tightly, not caring how much pain they inflicted. His breathing was shallow, and his face twisted in agony.

Every instinct told me to do something, anything, to stop what was coming, but my feet were frozen to the ground, paralyzed by terror and the weight of my impotence.

Mike’s eyes, swollen and bloodied, found mine for a brief moment. There was no plea in them—just resignation, as if he knew, as if we both knew, there was nothing left to do but wait for the inevitable.

"Armand, please..." I whispered, my voice shaking. But the words felt hollow, swallowed by the oppressive silence that followed. He didn’t even look at me; his focus was entirely on Mike. This wasn’t just vengeance—it was a cruel, calculated execution.

I had to think fast, or this would be the end. But my thoughts were jumbled, tangled in fear and panic. Before I could act, Armand raised his gun, the metallic gleam catching the light for a split second.

**Bang.**

The gunshot rang out, splitting the air like a thunderclap. My breath caught in my throat as everything seemed to slow down.