Chapter 171 Miscalculation

Ronald stood up and gave me a long, hard look.

I stared right back. From the first time he posed as a vendor at the True Love Entertainment Club months ago, to the few times we crossed paths afterward, this was the first time I really took him in.

His face was sharp and gaunt, not handsome at all. It was like a piece of rock dug out from the ground—dark, shiny, and incredibly hard. It might seem unremarkable on the roadside, but in a critical moment, it could suddenly become deadly.

"Why do you say that?" Ronald asked after a long moment of silence.

"Because I see right through you."

"When?"

"Just now."

Ronald thought for a moment, then nodded, signaling me to continue.

"You don't like talking or reminiscing."

"That's right," Ronald replied.

"But just now, you called the three of us up here and threatened us with hostages to talk to you."

"Yeah."

"But after we came up, you didn't make any demands. Instead, you started talking about old, irrelevant stories with Frank, constantly provoking his emotions. You clearly want Frank dead. You want him to die."

Frank coughed, regaining some composure, and coldly laughed at my words.

Ronald nodded, which Frank responded to with even more intense laughter.

Ronald frowned in displeasure and said in a deep voice, "Are young people always in such a hurry?"

Alan said, "I'm never in a hurry, Ronald. Because you have no demands, or your cards have already been exposed. You just want us dead, to accompany you in death."

Ronald's calm face finally showed some emotion—confusion, disbelief, surprise, and even a hint of sinister anger. After a long pause, he glanced at Alan and squinted his eyes.

"How have you been during the time Frank kept you confined?"

"It wasn't really confinement. I walked over and stayed there voluntarily. The door was always open, and I never stepped out. I wrote letters to Nancy every day, read books, and had decent food and drink. Frank didn't mistreat me."

Alan smiled gently, but to Ronald, it was blindingly irritating. He glanced at Frank, his murderous intent clear.

Frank had deceived him again. He had miscalculated once more!

Alan calmly moved his wheelchair back a few steps, his smile unwavering.

"Never stepped out?"

Ronald recalled something, scrutinizing Alan from head to toe, and said in a deep voice, "You were waiting to give Frank a blood transfusion!"

Alan paused, scratched his head, and replied softly, "Not exactly, but if you want to put it that way, you're not wrong."

"Alan, are you saying you orchestrated all of this? You were the mastermind behind everything?"

Ronald sneered, threw his extinguished cigarette on the ground, lit another one, and thought for a long time before saying, "I thought I had given you enough attention, but I still underestimated you. Why didn't I kill you back then and let you leave the old steel mill?"

Alan lowered his eyes, sighed, and said slowly, "You felt guilty towards Erica, worried she would be disappointed in you."

Ronald's hand, holding the cigarette, paused in mid-air, then he resumed smoking silently.

"Because you fear Alan, you want to kill him," I suddenly said.

Ronald's half-smoked cigarette fell to the ground. He trembled, bent down to pick it up, then changed his mind and crushed it underfoot, grinding it until the tobacco and paper were mixed together.

I continued fearlessly, "Because Alan's righteousness and kindness are pure, without a trace of blemish. He's like a mirror, reflecting your other side. Seeing him every day at the old steel mill made you confront your own fears, even if you didn't realize it. You might have questioned why you feared a child, but over time, it turned into hatred. You wanted to kill him, partly because of Erica, and partly because of your own indecision."

Ronald remained silent, pacing before sitting down at the edge of the rooftop.

I continued, "When Erica proposed adopting Alan, you agreed readily. But then you met George, someone like Alan. From that moment, your fear and hatred multiplied. George's humanity made you admire, envy, and resent him."

"But I killed him..." Ronald suddenly said, stopping halfway, his expression darkening. George wasn't dead; he had seen it himself and tried to kill George again. He believed that if he had stabbed a bit deeper, not even God could save George.

But fate was strange. Just when he was about to succeed, why did Zoey suddenly appear before him?

"Dad, stop." Zoey said,

These words shattered all his beliefs. The soft spot he thought he had eradicated grew back like wild grass in spring, quickly entangling him. He fled Shadow City.

"Yes, when you decided to kill George, you had already made your choice, irrevocably choosing another path."

I looked at Ronald and said softly, "But George didn't die. Realizing this early on, you sent Anna to Sand Village to investigate. You miscalculated; Anna fell for Tony. Thinking George was dead, you pursued your ambitions. You miscalculated again; Frank kept evidence of your crimes. Then, the True Love Entertainment Club arson and murder case erupted, and Joseph betrayed you, revealing secrets to me. You didn't foresee the connection between Laura and Douglas. The final blow was the state police chief's investigation. At that moment, Frank struck, and you discovered George wasn't dead."

I took a deep breath, "Ronald, you planned meticulously, achieving past glory. But precisely because of your overconfidence and pursuit of thrills, you miscalculated at every turn. Do you know the fundamental reason behind this?"

Ronald smoked, his face contorted as he looked at me.

"Because you can't overcome your inner insecurities and fears. Fundamentally, you've been fighting against your own good nature from the start!"

I said, "Ronald, you've lost. You've lost completely!"

Ronald stood up, eyes wide, and shouted, "But today, all of you will die!"