Chapter 978:

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Silas Croft took in the scene at a glance: Cailin, barefoot and swaying, the back of her hand bleeding freely onto the pristine white floor. His face, already etched with grim lines, hardened into granite.

He strode into the room, his presence so powerful it seemed to suck the air out. He took her by the shoulders, his grip firm and unyielding, and steered her back to the bed. He pressed her down onto the mattress with an authority that allowed for no argument.

Cailin struggled, a wild, cornered look in her eyes. “Let me go!”

Silas ignored her, grabbing a handful of tissues from the bedside table and pressing them firmly against the wound on her hand.

“Be still,” he commanded, his voice a low, rumbling thunder. “Rage is a poor weapon. It will get you killed long before it ever touches your enemies.”

His words, and the sheer force of his will, seemed to penetrate her frantic state. She stopped struggling, her breathing coming in harsh, ragged gasps, and stared up at the formidable old man.

𝖱𝘦𝖺𝘥 t𝗁𝘦 𝗹𝖺𝗍𝘦𝘴𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝖾𝗇𝗱𝗌 𝗈𝘯 g𝘢l𝘯𝘰𝘃𝘦𝗅𝘴.с𝗼m

He pulled a chair to the bedside and sat, his large frame seeming to dwarf the small room. From the inner pocket of his impeccably tailored suit, he produced a thick, black file folder.

He tossed it onto the bed. It landed with a soft, heavy thud.

“My people have been busy for the last forty-eight hours,” he said. “This is what they found on the Van Doren family.”

Cailin’s hands trembled as she reached for the folder. She opened it. The first page was a photograph of Eleonora Van Doren, her face a mask of aristocratic coldness.

Silas pointed a thick finger at the picture. “This woman,” he said, his voice laced with a deep, chilling hatred, “is a viper. She runs the family’s wetwork. Their network of assassins.”

Cailin’s fingers flipped through the pages. She saw redacted police reports, death certificates, all officially ruled as accidents or suicides. Business rivals, political opponents, anyone who had crossed the Van Doren family. And Eleonora’s shadow was behind every single one.

“She used the family’s biochemical assets to eliminate her rivals and seize control of the board,” Silas explained, his voice a grim monotone.

A cold dread settled in Cailin’s stomach. “And Donovan?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. “Where is he in all of this?”

Silas’s expression grew complex. “Donovan is a ruthless king on the corporate battlefield. But in his own home, he turns a blind eye. He allows Eleonora to handle the darker aspects of their family business.” He detailed Eleonora’s obsessive, pathological possessiveness of her husband. Any woman who got too close, who was perceived as a threat, met with an unfortunate end.

Cailin’s breath caught in her throat. She saw the sparse, heavily censored notes in the file about her own mother, Genevieve.

She looked up, her mind racing, connecting the dots. “She’s killing me for the same reason,” she said, her voice sharp with a sudden, horrifying clarity. “It’s not random. There’s something about me, something I represent, that threatens her.”

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