Chapter 188 — Fiona's Rising Threshold
The apartment at 2118 was filled with the soft scent of flowers—something William paid good money to maintain with daily cleaning services.
Domestic help in America wasn't cheap, but for someone in William's line of work, it was barely worth mentioning.
After unlocking the door, Fiona leaned weakly against him as he carried her inside.
The emotional collapse had taken a physical toll—she could barely move, her body trembling from the intensity of her crying.
Now, it was just the two of them.
Aside from her quiet sobs, the room was completely silent.
William gently set her down on the sofa, then walked over to switch on the lights.
Curled up, Fiona hugged her knees tightly, burying her face as she continued to cry.
A moment later, William returned with a glass of warm water and held it out to her.
"Drink something."
Fiona lifted her head slightly, her tear-filled eyes meeting his calm, gentle expression.
Her voice broke as her crying intensified.
"I'm sorry, William…"
She couldn't control it.
The clash between her pride and her insecurity felt like it was tearing her apart from the inside.
William placed the glass on the table and wrapped his arms around her, gently patting her back.
"It's okay… it's okay. Things will get better."
That was what he said.
But in truth, he knew better than anyone—her life wasn't going to get better.
Not with him in it.
As long as he remained, he wouldn't allow her to have it easy.
Unless, one day, she was completely molded to his will.
And even then, from Fiona's perspective, that wouldn't exactly count as a "better" life either.
So in the end, there was no version of the future where things truly turned out well for her.
And yet…
That didn't mean she wouldn't fall into it willingly.
Hearing his soft reassurance, Fiona opened her arms—just as she had opened her heart—and wrapped them around his neck.
The salty taste of her tears mixed with the faint sweetness on her lips caught William off guard for a brief moment.
Only for a second or two.
Then he responded.
Her sobbing gradually faded.
What she needed right now… was to forget.
To forget everything that had happened today—even if only for a little while.
It was a form of self-protection.
Some people overeat.
Some distract themselves with movies.
Others throw themselves into chores, or go out wandering aimlessly.
No matter the method, at its core, it was all the same—
An escape.
Fiona chose intimacy.
Soon, the two of them moved to the bedroom.
Clothes were left scattered along the way.
Hours passed in a blur.
By the time it was over, Fiona lay on William's bed, her face still streaked with tears.
She was completely exhausted.
And yet… it still didn't feel like enough.
There was such a thing as a threshold.
Once raised, it was incredibly difficult to go back.
And now—
On a physical level, Fiona was already beginning to depend on him.
"William… I…"
Her voice was weak, trailing off before she could finish.
Something held her back from saying more.
But William understood anyway.
He got up and walked over to the wardrobe, opening it as if searching for something—putting on a casual act.
Soon, William pulled out something cold and gleaming—something sharp, metallic, and impossible to describe in words—from the wardrobe.
The moment Fiona saw it, she swallowed hard.
There was fear in her eyes… but also expectation.
Because deep down, she believed that whatever she was struggling with—whatever she couldn't escape—might be resolved through this.
What followed stretched deep into the night—too much to put into words.
By the time everything finally settled, the two of them collapsed into exhausted rest.
But elsewhere, sleep was the last thing on anyone's mind.
Out in a remote parking lot on the outskirts—
Ado and Steve stood in front of the truck William had left behind.
"This is the one," Steve said, checking the license plate.
"Let's see what this key opens."
Ado tossed the key to him.
Steve caught it, nodded, and first tried the driver's door—no luck.
He glanced around instinctively, then pulled out a thin metal strip.
With practiced ease, he slipped it in.
Within seconds, the door clicked open.
Climbing inside, Steve searched the cab carefully but found nothing.
"Anything?" Ado asked, watching him rummage through the interior.
"Nothing. Completely empty. If there's anything, it's probably in the container… but how the hell did he move this much gear here? Or was he just messing with us?"
Steve's confidence wavered.
Both of them had initially assumed the truck was just a clue—there was no way someone would openly leave a massive cache of weapons sitting in a public lot.
Unless, of course, William had some kind of divine protection—like every cop or inspector would just bow and let him pass unchecked.
"Well," Ado said, pointing toward the back, "there's only one way to find out."
Steve nodded, though doubt still lingered.
They walked to the rear container doors.
Comparing the key with the lock, both of them paused—then exchanged a glance.
It matched.
"Open it," Ado said coldly. "And if it's empty, I'm going to find him, cut off his head, and bring it back to Nando."
Steve stiffened.
He was just a small-time hustler—killing wasn't something he could stomach.
His hands trembled slightly as he slid the key into the lock.
Slowly… inch by inch…
Even he didn't know what he was expecting.
After a couple of seconds, the key was fully inserted.
He took a deep breath… and turned it.
Click.
The lock opened.
"Hurry the hell up! What are you waiting for?" Ado snapped, clearly irritated.
Steve swallowed.
It wasn't that he was stalling—he was genuinely scared.
He had never actually witnessed what Ado and Nando were capable of.
In his mind, vivid images flashed—William being killed, cut apart piece by piece.
It made his stomach turn.
Still, he didn't dare disobey.
On paper, he might have been Nando's future son-in-law.
But in reality?
Ado held his life in his hands.
At the end of the day, Steve was nothing more than a stepping stone—for Estefania to secure her place in America.
Once she got her green card, his usefulness would be gone.
The thought sent another chill through him.
Gritting his teeth, Steve finally pulled the container doors open.
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