Inside the Quinn family villa, the atmosphere had sunk into suffocating silence. The massive golden bell stood in the center of the hall like a cruel monument, its cold metallic glow reflecting off every pale face. It didn't need to ring—its mere presence was enough to remind everyone of the humiliation they had just endured.
Old Master Quinn lay unconscious on the sofa, his breathing weak and uneven. The earlier "miracle recovery" now felt like nothing more than a cruel illusion.
Then suddenly—
"It's all your fault!"
The sharp scream shattered the silence.
Sophia's aunt rushed forward like a madwoman, her hair disheveled and her eyes bloodshot. Without hesitation, she raised her hand and tried to strike Lucas Reed. "You jinx! We stood up for you, and this is what we get? We offended Victor Hale because of you! Look at us now!" Her voice broke as she pointed at him. "My factory, my orders—everything is gone! You owe us! What are you going to give us in return?!"
Lucas's expression turned cold. He caught her wrist mid-air and said flatly, "That's enough." With a sharp push, he sent her stumbling backward.
His gaze swept across the room like a blade. "A bunch of opportunists," he said coldly. "When I saved him, you praised me like I was a god. And now? Victor Hale leaves, and suddenly I'm the problem?"
His eyes darkened, his tone turning dangerous. "A family like yours deserves to be crushed."
"You—!" Chairman Quinn exploded in rage. He grabbed a teacup and hurled it toward Lucas. "Get out! Get out of my house! Don't ever let me see you again, or I'll break your legs!"
The teacup shattered at Lucas's feet.
Lucas didn't move.
He simply stood there, then slowly turned his gaze toward Sophia.
She stood silently, tears streaming down her face. But she said nothing. She didn't defend him.
"…Sophia," Lucas said hoarsely, his voice losing its strength. "Do you think this is my fault too? Everything I did… was for you."
Sophia slowly raised her head. Her eyes were red and swollen, filled with conflict and exhaustion.
After a long silence, she finally spoke. "Lucas… you should leave."
Her voice was soft.
But merciless.
"I don't want to see you right now." She turned her face away. "The Hale family's blacklist is still in effect. Grandpa isn't fully safe yet. Our family is barely holding on…"
Her lips trembled slightly. "We don't have the luxury to play hero games with you."
Those words struck deeper than any blow.
Lucas froze.
"Hero… games?" he repeated slowly.
So everything he had done—
Risking everything, standing against Victor Hale—
Was just a game?
A hollow laugh escaped him.
Then it grew louder.
Colder.
"...Heh. Ha… hahaha…" His laughter echoed strangely in the hall before stopping abruptly. "Excellent," he said, his voice trembling with suppressed fury. "Excellent, Quinn family. Excellent, Sophia."
His eyes turned icy. "I'll remember this."
He turned and strode toward the exit.
But as he passed the golden bell—
He stopped.
For a moment, the entire hall fell silent.
Then—
BOOM!
His fist slammed into the bell.
The deafening sound echoed through the mansion, making everyone flinch. When the vibration faded, a deep dent had formed on the surface of the solid gold.
Lucas slowly turned back.
His eyes were no longer calm—they burned with something dark.
"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river," he said quietly. "Never underestimate a young man."
His gaze swept across everyone, lingering briefly on Sophia.
"And Victor Hale… and all of you," he continued, his voice low but firm. "One day, I'll make you kneel before me. And beg for forgiveness."
With that, he turned and disappeared into the night.
Leaving behind silence.
And fear.
---
Inside the car, the atmosphere was calm—too calm.
Through the rearview mirror, Mr. Foster glanced at Victor, who sat quietly with his eyes half-closed. After a moment, he spoke carefully. "Sir… that boy…" He made a subtle gesture across his throat. "Should we deal with him?"
Victor didn't even open his eyes. "No."
The answer came instantly.
"Killing him?" Victor said faintly. "Too easy."
A slight smile appeared on his lips. "People like him are like cockroaches. If you don't crush them completely, they adapt. They evolve. They come back stronger."
He leaned back slightly. "And more importantly… how do you harvest anything if you kill him now?"
Mr. Foster froze.
He understood.
Victor wasn't just suppressing Lucas.
He was using him.
"Check if there are any large jade auctions or antique fairs coming up," Victor said casually.
Mr. Foster nodded immediately. "Yes, sir. There's a major jade auction next week at the Skyhaven International Convention Center. High-grade stones from Myanmar will be showcased."
Victor's smile deepened slightly. "Good. Make arrangements."
His fingers tapped lightly against his knee. "If he wants to rise again… let him." A faint pause followed. "Then crush him again."
A chill ran down Mr. Foster's spine.
"And one more thing," Victor added calmly. "Distribute his photo."
Mr. Foster straightened. "Yes, sir?"
"From today onward," Victor said indifferently, "every business under the Hale Group—hotels, malls, restaurants…" He paused briefly. "Dogs and Lucas Reed are not allowed entry."
Mr. Foster inhaled sharply.
That was beyond suppression.
It was humiliation.
"Understood, sir."
Victor leaned back, his gaze drifting toward the passing city lights. "Lucas Reed," he said softly, "you want to prove yourself? Then I'll make sure…" His voice turned cold. "…you die trying."
---
Back at the Hale estate, the night had deepened.
Inside the dimly lit study, Ryan Hale knelt on the carpet, his head lowered. His body trembled slightly despite the treatment on his wounds. The pain had eased, but the memory remained sharp.
Victor sat behind his desk, calmly swirling a glass of whiskey. The soft clink of ice echoed in the quiet room.
"Do you know why you're kneeling?" he asked.
Ryan swallowed. "Because… I disgraced the family…"
"Shallow," Victor replied coldly.
He picked up a document and tossed it in front of him. "Look."
Ryan picked it up with trembling hands. As he read, his face turned pale.
"A financial report?" he muttered.
"In the first year," Victor said evenly, "you used the Hale Group's connections to secure resources for Sophia Quinn. You overpaid for a failing magazine. Loss—20 million."
Ryan's hands tightened.
"In the second year, you embezzled 10 million to support the Quinn family. With interest, loss—17 million."
Ryan's breathing grew heavier.
"In three years," Victor continued, "from cars to villas, daily expenses to extended family support…" His gaze sharpened. "Total expenditure—138 million."
A pause.
"Return—negative."
Ryan's hands trembled uncontrollably.
"I… I…"
Victor stood up and walked toward him, stopping just inches away. "Ryan," he said quietly, "I am a businessman. Every investment must have a return."
His voice dropped, heavy with pressure.
"You spent over a hundred million."
"What did you get?"
Ryan opened his mouth.
But no words came out.
Because he already knew.
Nothing.
Not love.
Not respect.
Not even dignity.
Only loss.
Only humiliation.
Only regret.