Chapter 993:

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Nothing had changed. The stalemate was absolute.

Donovan turned, his face carved from granite. “My terms are unchanged. Release my daughter, and the antidote will be here within the hour.”

Julian slipped the glasses on, his eyes magnified slightly. “With all due respect, Mr. Van Doren,” he said, his voice lazy but edged with steel, “you are in no position to be making terms.”

Hilliard sank into a leather armchair. Cailin’s words echoed in his mind. You should be betting on Giselle’s selfishness.

He looked at Donovan, truly looked at him, not as a rival CEO, but as a man. He was posturing as a devoted father, but at his core, he was a creature of commerce. A man who understood leverage and loss.

“The poison in Giselle’s system is RK-7,” Hilliard said, his voice quiet but cutting through the tension. “Regent’s Kiss. You’re familiar with it, I assume.”

A muscle twitched in Donovan’s jaw. He remained silent.

“My medical team estimates that for every hour that passes, she sustains irreversible neurological damage,” Hilliard continued, his tone clinical. “In twenty-four hours, she’ll be beyond saving.”

Donovan’s hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into fists. The veins on their backs stood out like cords.

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Julian added, his voice smooth as silk, “The process, of course, will be agonizing. Blindness first. Then the loss of speech. And finally, a complete psychotic break as her mind dissolves into endless hallucinations.”

“Enough!” Donovan roared, slamming his hand down on the mahogany table.

He glared at Hilliard, his eyes burning. “Do you think you can threaten me into submission? I will sacrifice anything for the honor of the Van Doren name!”

Hilliard met his gaze and slowly shook his head. “I’m not threatening you. I’m stating facts.”

He leaned back, a subtle shift in his posture. He was no longer a combatant. He was a consultant. “In fact,” he said, “let’s consider another option. Perhaps Giselle’s death is the best outcome for both of us.”

Donovan and Julian both stared at him, utterly baffled.

“She dies,” Hilliard elaborated, ticking the points off on his fingers. “You’re rid of an impulsive, liability of an heir. My wife’s attempted murder is avenged. And as for the antidote, with the combined resources of the Holloway and Croft families, I’m confident we can synthesize a replacement eventually.”

He spread his hands in a gesture of finality. “So, you see, there’s no rush on my end. We can wait.”

Donovan was speechless. He was a master of the boardroom, of hostile takeovers and brutal negotiations. He had never encountered a tactic like this. Hilliard was treating his daughter’s life not as a tragedy, but as a line item on a balance sheet.

Julian watched Hilliard, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. The strategy had changed. The game was new.

Donovan stood up abruptly and began to pace, his mind a whirlwind of fury and a terrifying, cold logic. Hilliard was right. From a purely strategic standpoint…

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