Chapter 89
Chapter 90
At the top floor of The Kennedy Group tower, in the CEO's office.
The projection screen had been hijacked, a shaky livestream feed now filling the entire wall.
Inside an abandoned ship's hold, mottled rust covered every surface. In the dim light, waves crashed against the hull in rhythmic thuds that echoed through the silent space.
BANG!
Nicholas kicked the coffee table over, sending expensive tea sets shattering across the floor, water spraying everywhere.
"This is what you called foolproof?!"
He stormed forward and grabbed Terry by the tie, veins bulging on the back of his hand.
"Dozens of elite security personnel, and you couldn't keep tabs on one sick woman? Are you all brain-dead?!"
Terry could barely breathe, cold sweat dripping down his jaw.
"Mr. Kennedy, the surveillance footage after Ms. Russell left Galaxy Hills Cemetery was deliberately erased and replaced. Our team was watching fake footage the entire time—they thought she never left at all, not until this livestream went public..."
His internal security clearance had been breached? Nicholas's brow furrowed.
There was a mole.
"Shut down the livestream. Now!"
"The cyber bureau and our hackers are working together to block it, but they can't." Terry's hands trembled as he pulled up data streams on his tablet. "The perpetrator set up floating base stations in international waters, and the defensive code is bizarre. We break through three firewalls, and the system self-destructs and bounces back, locking us out instantly."
Nicholas's gaze caught on a flash of unusual code at the edge of the screen.
That nested algorithm...
A name he hadn't thought of in years surfaced in his mind.
Timothy King.
His nemesis from his days in the international reconnaissance unit. After Nicholas had returned to civilian life, Timothy had defected during a cross-border raid and vanished without a trace.
On the big screen, the brutal game continued.
In the frame, Diana's foot slipped, and she crashed hard against a rusted shipping container. Lindsey advanced step by step, gripping a blood-grooved military knife.
Nicholas pulled open his desk drawer and retrieved a matte-black Glock.
He chambered a round, tucked the gun into the small of his back, and grabbed his car keys.
"Get a boat ready. South District Pier 7."
"Mr. Kennedy!"
Terry threw his arms out, blocking the doorway, his face ashen.
"That's international waters! Whoever's behind this wouldn't dare broadcast openly unless they had serious firepower at their disposal. If you go alone, you're walking into a death trap!"
"Get out of my way." Nicholas's eyes were ice-cold. "Block me again, and I'll shoot you first."
Terry froze in place, not daring to move another inch.
Meanwhile, in international waters, at the bottom level of the cargo ship.
Waves pounded relentlessly against the hull, the tilted floor swaying with the ship's motion.
Diana gasped for air, her back pressed against the freezing metal wall, both hands protecting her flat stomach.
For her mother who died with a grievance unfulfilled. For this child she'd just discovered she was carrying...
She couldn't die here!
Lindsey gripped the knife with both hands in a reverse hold, hair wild, face twisted.
"Run! Keep running! Why didn't you just die three years ago?! If you hadn't shown up, I'd be the one marrying Nicholas in glory!"
She screamed and closed in, the blade aimed at Diana's abdomen.
A massive wave slammed into the hull, and the hold lurched violently to one side. Diana had nowhere left to retreat—her head cracked hard against the metal plate.
As the blade thrust forward, she could only clench it with both hands.
Metal sliced through the skin of her palms, blood sliding down the grooves and splattering onto the rusted deck.
Pain burrowed from her palms into her bones. Diana's shoulders shook, but she didn't dare loosen her grip even slightly, refusing to let the blade sink any lower.
"Let go! Let go!"
Watching the blood on Diana's hands, Lindsey's eyes gleamed with sick excitement as she yanked the handle back.
The blade scraped through Diana's palms, and the pain sent her vision black at the edges. Warm blood soaked through her down jacket. Her strength drained away with every drop lost.
She knew she couldn't hold on much longer.
Diana stared at Lindsey's grotesque, twisted face and let out a cold laugh.
All the disgust, grievance, and resentment she'd swallowed for years surged to the surface in that moment.
She was done holding back.
If she was going to die here today, she'd say her piece first!
"Your mother, Raina, was a mistress who destroyed my happy family. Ryder, ungrateful and heartless, abandoned his wife and daughter and brought you and your mother home. Lindsey, do you actually think you're an heiress? The blood of a mistress runs through your veins—forever cheap!"
Those words broadcast live across the internet. The comment section exploded instantly.
[WHAT THE HELL?! The woman about to get engaged to Nicholas is the illegitimate daughter of a mistress?!]
[Didn't the media say she was the only heiress of The Russell Family? Diana and her mom were kicked out by these shameless women?!]
[This is insane! She's holding a knife trying to kill her own sister! That's pure evil!]
[Call the cops! Lock this murderer up now!]
"Shut up! Shut UP!"
Lindsey's sanity shattered under the humiliation.
"I'll carve up that face of yours! I'll rip that illegitimate child out of your belly!"
She raised her leg to kick Diana's knee.
But before her foot could land, her grip on the knife faltered. The bloodied blade clattered onto the deck.
The viciousness hadn't left Lindsey's face, but her body had already lost control.
Her mouth twisted. Her eyes rolled back. She collapsed, convulsing violently, white foam spilling from her lips.
Her rage had triggered an old illness.
Diana slid down the wall, utterly spent, watching Lindsey writhe on the floor, cold-eyed. Her torn palms still bled, the pain so sharp she couldn't even close her fingers.
The livestream chat descended into chaos.
[Karma! That's an epileptic seizure, right? She'll die if she doesn't get treatment fast!]
[Serves her right!! The mistress's daughter tried to kill someone and got hit with her own disease! Justice! Just die already, you illegitimate spawn!]
Night had fallen over South District Pier 7.
The winter sea wind was biting and raw, carrying the heavy stench of the open ocean.
A black military-grade speedboat equipped with heavy-duty twin turbine engines idled at the dock, its motor rumbling low and fierce.
A long line of armored SUVs screeched to a halt outside the port.
Nicholas had just pushed open the door of his Maybach when a gray Bentley smashed through the outer barricade.
Before the car fully stopped, Ryder tumbled out, half-crawling.
"Nicholas! Nicholas, wait!" The man who prided himself on his refinement was now covered in mud and water, utterly disheveled.
He didn't even notice he'd lost a shoe. Limping and stumbling, he ran toward the dock.
A bodyguard stepped forward and pinned him in place, twisting his arm behind his back.
Ryder struggled desperately, tears streaming down his face as he screamed at Nicholas's retreating figure:
"You watched the livestream, didn't you? Lindsey had an episode! She's been fragile since she was a child—she can't handle this kind of shock! You have to save her! You have to! Nicholas! She's about to be your fiancée! Bring the best doctors in Sunrise City! I don't care what it costs—just bring my Lindsey back safe!"