Chapter 151

Chapter 151
Alina's POV

I stood outside the intensive care unit, listening to the shrill wail of the machines and the hurried footsteps of the nurses inside. A cold, white light seeped through the crack in the door, casting a thin sliver of brightness across the floor.

I waited outside the operating room for the doctor to emerge with a look of defeat and deliver the "good news."

But the outcome disappointed me: Adams was too stubborn to die.

When I learned this, I turned and walked back down the corridor. The words I had just spoken in that hospital room still smoldered in my chest like flames, searing all the way down to my limbs—yet that impulsive heat was quickly quelled by a colder, more calculating emotion.

The fact that he had pulled through after everything I'd said to provoke him told me one thing: he hadn't laid down all his cards yet.

I returned to the study, shut the door, sat down at the desk, and began sifting through the documents and records I had already organized.

Some of the accounts didn't add up. Certain personnel transfers had been approved without my signature. And several encrypted communication logs had been deliberately wiped. On their own, none of these details seemed significant—but pieced together, they formed a puzzle that revealed a picture I had failed to see clearly over the past few days.

His core chain of power had never truly been severed. The people I had reassigned or placed under house arrest were merely pushed out of sight, while the real line of command—the hidden one—had never been broken at all.

Only when I realized this did I understand just how reckless my words in that hospital room had been.

The following evening, I intercepted a fragment of a communication through the estate's information channels. It mentioned two key phrases: "Antonio" and "the chemical plant in the east district."

Combined with a few scattered vehicle dispatch records, I assembled a rather grim picture: Antonio had been released—or, more precisely, deliberately let go—and the clues about his whereabouts were being scattered, intentionally or not, until they eventually reached Lowell.

The purpose of this scheme was to lure Lowell into chasing Antonio, and once he entered the range of the chemical plant, to close every ambush point around him.

I gripped the slip of paper on which I'd copied down the key phrases, my knuckles white.

I absolutely could not let this happen. With that thought, I strode out of the study. The butler leaned half his body out from the corner of the staircase and glanced at me. His lips moved as if he wanted to ask something, but in the end he said nothing.

By the time I reached the foyer, two bodyguards had fallen in behind me. I turned my head, gave them a glance, said "Going out on business," and kept walking, giving them no chance to question me.

I dismissed everyone, drove out to the outskirts alone, then walked into a barren stretch of woods, took out my phone, and dialed Lowell's number.

But Lowell didn't answer the way I'd expected. After four rings, the call was cut off, and when I tried again, it went straight to voicemail.

Listening to the busy tone on the other end, I understood that it wasn't that he didn't want to answer—he had shut down every ordinary means of contact.

And that was exactly what I feared, because it meant his side had already begun moving. Before any major operation, they always transmitted information through the family's dedicated software.

I clutched the phone, brooding for a moment, then quickly formed a plan.

Since I couldn't reach him through any communication now, my only option was to get to the chemical plant before he did. I climbed back into the car, ready to race to the spot where Adams had planted his bait. But before I'd driven far, the phone in my pocket rang.

I thought it was Lowell. Instead, it was Adams's butler.

His tone was cold and grim. "Please come back. The master has something important to discuss with you."

I said nothing, hung up immediately, and flipped the phone face-down on the seat.

The car rolled forward a little farther. The road ahead gradually narrowed, and rusted barbed-wire fences and the silhouettes of abandoned factories began to appear on either side. Less than a hundred meters from the fork in the road, headlights approached rapidly from the opposite direction. Then that car swung sideways across the road, its beams shining straight at me, sharp enough to make me squint.

The doors opened and two men stepped out. I recognized one as a trusted aide of Adams's; the other was the deputy captain of the estate's security team. They didn't come closer—they simply stood beside their car, as though waiting for me to get out on my own.

I stayed put in the back seat. A few seconds later, another car pulled up from the side and stopped directly behind mine, cutting off my retreat.

There was no choice left. So I pushed open the door and stepped out. The instant the cold wind rushed in, I saw Adams being helped down from a car, supported on either side.

He wore a heavy coat, his face still pale, but he looked far better than he had in the ICU. He stood in the open space between the two cars, watching me from less than ten meters away, his eyes devoid of any emotion—like a machine.

He had never truly relinquished his power. The documents, the signatures, the seemingly smooth handover procedures—all of it was only the surface he had allowed me to see, while the roots beneath had never left his grasp.

"So late, and where is my darling headed?"

"Out on business," I answered coldly.

Adams pressed his lips together and tilted his head slightly. The two men beside him started toward me.

"What are you doing?!"

I let out a low snarl. The moment I raised my hand to reach toward my waist, they seized my arms from both sides, pinning me so I couldn't move an inch. A cloth was stuffed into my mouth—already prepared—leaving me unable to make a sound.

"Put her in the car." With that, Adams turned and walked toward the rear vehicle, then was helped into the back seat by the men at his side.

The two men led me into the other car. The click of the door locks was unusually crisp in the quiet night.

The car turned around and continued down a road I had never traveled, cutting through an abandoned industrial zone before finally stopping outside the side gate of a chemical plant. The rusted iron gate stood half open, a faint light spilling out through the gap.

As I was dragged from the car, bound tight, I saw someone come out to greet us from the side gate. His build and gait had been familiar to me long ago—it was Antonio, a scheming smirk on his face, certain his plan was about to succeed.

Before I could react, gunfire tore through the silent night, coming from deep within the plant—as though a firefight had already been raging for some time!

My head snapped toward the source of the sound, and my eyes met Adams's icy gaze.

"Darling, today, the lover you've pined for is going to die right here."

The cold wind cut into me, and I shivered.

"Watch it with your own eyes. It will be seared into your memory forever."

My mind went blank. I was practically shoved through the side gate and into a wide-open area.

A dim yellow light shone overhead. Through the dust and gun smoke, Adams pushed me onto an elevated platform. I lowered my gaze and saw the people below locked in a chaotic firefight, bullets flying everywhere.

"Lowell! Look up—see who this is!"