Chapter 161

Chapter 161
And watching Mila, so peaceful and content, her fingers deftly stitching colors together, I knew I was winning my fight, too. This quiet life, this real happiness, was the best answer to any of Antonio’s lingering problems.

Dimitri

The fight with Antonio was a slow, grinding battle. Each victory, like stopping Elias Callahan or cutting off a prison contact, was just one less piece on a very large board. My father, even from jail, was a master of making trouble, finding new, unexpected ways to cause small, annoying problems for my businesses.

I had been pushing hard to make him feel completely cut off. My security teams, led by Lena, were working to identify every single person who might still be loyal to Antonio outside. It was a tedious process, tracing old favors, forgotten loyalties, and hidden money flows.

One afternoon, Lena brought me a new report. "Mr. Andreas," she said, placing a thick file on my desk. "We've found a very old, very hidden offshore account. It's been active for years but only recently started seeing larger movements of money. It's feeding a network of small, independent contractors who are now quietly spreading bad rumors about our upcoming city projects. Nothing directly provable, just whispers that cause delays and make things harder."

I frowned, picking up the file. Whispers. That was Antonio's specialty. Causing doubt, making things unclear. It was designed to slowly chip away at trust, to make people nervous about working with Andreas Industries.
"And this account, this network?" I asked, already tracing the connections in my mind.

"It's tied to an old family trust, set up by your grandfather," Lena explained. "Antonio has been using it for decades, hidden from all official records. And the contractors are all small-time, hard to link directly back. They're just paid to talk in specific places to specific people."

My grandfather's trust. Antonio was using funds and structures from before my time, things so old and buried they were almost impossible to find. He was truly using every last resource, every last hidden corner, to fight me from his cage.

"This is designed to be untraceable," I noted, a grim sense of respect for his cunning. "But it's still coming from him."
"Yes," Lena confirmed. "The instructions, the targets, they all follow his known patterns. It's his final reach, almost."
"Almost," I repeated, my voice flat. "He'll never stop until he draws his last breath. Or until I make it impossible for him to even breathe a word that causes trouble."

I thought about Ava, so focused on her art and on making our home a sanctuary. I thought about Carlo, now so grounded and happy with Mila, building a new kind of life. Antonio was trying to pull me back into the dark world he knew, the world of endless conflict. But I was fighting for their light, their peace.

"We need to find a way to freeze that trust," I told Lena. "Every penny. And find every single contractor involved in spreading those rumors. Make their lives incredibly difficult. Not with direct confrontation, but by making sure they lose every other piece of work they have. Make the risk of taking Antonio's dirty money far outweigh the reward."

It was a cold, hard choice, but necessary. My father was pushing me. He was forcing me to use every tool, to become even more ruthless, just to protect the peace he refused to let us have. The cost was high, in time, in energy, and in the constant weight on my shoulders.
But then I thought of Liam's easy laughter, of Ava's calm presence, and of Carlo's newfound joy. They were my reasons. They were the strong, clear light that guided me through the shadows. Antonio could send his whispers, could try to pull old strings. But he couldn't touch the love, the stability, or the future we were building in Axton City. And I would ensure that.

Ava

The calm in Axton City felt thinner these days. Like a sheet of ice over a deep, dark water. Dimitri was fighting hard against Antonio's latest tricks; that much was clear. I could see it in his eyes, even when he tried to hide it. He was moving with a purpose that felt sharper, more determined than usual.
He was still in his study a lot, late into the night. I knew he was unraveling new parts of Antonio's hidden plans, cutting off his father's old connections one by one. It was a constant war being fought in whispers and hidden papers, far from the loud battles of the past.

I noticed the difference when I went out, too. Small things. When I visited the market, I'd hear people talking in low voices about "rumors" and "uncertainty" around some of the city's new projects. Nothing concrete, just vague worries, like a chill wind blowing through the city. It was the kind of quiet fear that could stop people from trusting, from moving forward. And I knew, deep down, that it was Antonio’s doing, even from jail. He was trying to plant seeds of doubt to slow everything down.

It made me want to make our home even more of a refuge. I cooked simple, comforting meals. I made sure Liam's laughter filled the rooms. I spent extra time making sure the house felt warm and bright, a safe space that no outside worry could touch. If Dimitri was out there battling ghosts, then I would make sure he had a solid, loving home to return to.

My art became my way of understanding all this. My canvas was full of twisting lines, like whispers, dark and unclear. But I painted bright, strong shapes cutting through them, clear and sharp. It was like showing how truth can push through lies and how determination can break through doubt. It helped me process the worry, and it gave me a way to fight back in my own quiet way.
One evening, I found Dimitri sitting at the kitchen table, staring out the window at the dark Axton City skyline. He wasn't working, just sitting. He looked tired, but not defeated. More like someone carrying a very heavy weight but still standing strong.

I walked over and put a cup of warm tea in front of him. "Hard day?" I asked softly, sitting opposite him.
He looked at me, then at the tea. "Antonio's reach is deeper than I thought. He used an old trust, hidden funds from his grandfather's time. He's been using it to spread rumors about our projects, trying to erode trust. It's a slow poison."

I felt a shiver. An old trust. It meant he had planned this for so long, even before he went to jail. He was truly relentless. "Can you stop it?"
"I will," he said, his voice firm, picking up the tea. "It's complex, untangling something so old and hidden. But we're tracing every penny, every whisper. We're cutting him off completely." He took a sip of tea, then added, "It just takes time. And focus."