2025-03-22 20:37:45Nate stepped into the mansion, letting the chauffeur shut the door behind him. The house was quiet except for the faint clinking of cutlery from the dining room. His eyes swept over the space…nothing had changed. Same expensive furniture. Same grand chandeliers. Same perfect, picture-book life.
But it was all a lie. His wife, Serena, sat at the long dining table, smiling as if nothing in the world could ruin her mood. The table was covered with dishes, a feast laid out like some celebration. And at the very center, steam curled from a cup of tea. His stomach twisted. “Welcome home, darling,” Serena said, her voice warm, eyes soft. She stood gracefully, hands clasped in front of her. The wife who had poisoned him. The woman he had loved more than anything. Once upon a time, he would have walked straight to her, taken her in his arms, kissed her forehead, and told her how much he had missed her. But now? Now, all he felt was hatred. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his tone even. “I wanted to. You’ve been so busy lately.” She walked toward him, reaching for his tie. He caught her wrist before she could touch him. Serena’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of confusion in them before she masked it with a chuckle. “Did you have a bad day?” Nate let go of her hand and stepped past her. He pulled out a chair but didn’t sit. Instead, he picked up the cup of tea and studied it. The same tea she had given him every night. The tea that had been killing him slowly. Serena tilted her head, watching him carefully. “You’re not drinking?” “I’m not hungry,” he said, setting the cup back down. “You should eat.” Serena frowned, her smile slipping just a little. “Nate, what’s wrong?” He turned away. “Nothing.” “Nate.” He kept walking. She had always been good at acting, but he saw it now…the way her hands clenched at her sides, the slight shift in her posture. She wasn’t just concerned. She was calculating. He reached the hallway, but he stopped. He could throw her out. Divorce her. Strip her of everything. But that wasn’t enough. No, he had a better idea. Nate turned back, walking to the table again. Serena’s expression brightened, but he ignored it. He pulled out a chair and sat down across from her, even as disgust burned inside him. She had taken everything from him before. Now, he was going to take everything from her. He picked up the glass of tea once more, turning it slightly in his hand as if admiring it. The steam rose lazily, carrying the faint scent of herbs. His lips curled into a small smile as he brought it closer to his lips. He could feel Serena watching him. Her eyes, always so composed, held something different now. Anticipation. Expectation. But before the tea could touch his mouth, he stopped. Setting the glass back down, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His expression softened, voice dropping into something warm, affectionate. “I’ll only drink it if you take the first sip.” Serena blinked, her perfect smile faltering for just a second before she let out a soft laugh. “Nate, you’re being silly. This is your tea.” “Is it?” His tone remained calm. “I don’t remember you ever making me tea before.” Her fingers curled slightly against the table, but she quickly relaxed them, tilting her head with a playful pout. “I wanted to do something special for you. You’ve been working so hard.” Nate nodded slowly, pretending to consider her words. But inwardly, his mind raced. His health had only started to fail after he began drinking this tea. It had been so gradual, so subtle. Headaches. Fatigue. Weakness. He had thought it was stress. But now? Now, he knew better. Serena reached for the cup, as if to take it from him. “Come on, just drink it. It’ll help you relax.” Nate’s grip tightened around the glass. “No.” Before she could react, he moved. He lunged forward, grabbing her by the jaw with one hand while shoving the cup toward her mouth with the other. Serena gasped, her hands flying up to push against him. “Nate…what the hell are you doing?!” “Drink it.” His voice was low, controlled. She twisted, struggling against his grip. “Stop! You’re hurting me!” The tea sloshed dangerously close to her lips as she thrashed, her nails digging into his wrist. And then… The glass slipped from his hand. It hit the table first, then the floor, shattering into sharp pieces. The tea spread across the polished surface, dripping down to the carpet below. For a second, there was only silence. Serena’s chest rose and fell, her eyes flashing with something darker than just anger. She wiped at the droplets of tea on her skin, then snapped her gaze up at him, looking truly pissed. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Nate leaned back, his smirk cold. “I wanted you to drink what you so badly wanted me to drink.” Her lips parted, then pressed into a thin line. She huffed, her nostrils flaring, but instead of arguing, she simply stood, brushing imaginary dust off her dress. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I don’t have time for this,” she muttered, shaking her head. She turned on her heel and walked away, disappointment laced in every step. Nate watched her go, his smirk widening. Her plan had failed. His hatred for her only grew. Nate leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the table as he watched Serena disappear down the hall. The air still carried the faint scent of the tea she had tried to poison him with, and he let out a slow breath, his smirk fading into something colder. She thought she was untouchable. She thought she could smile sweetly, bat her lashes, and continue playing him for a fool. Not anymore. Whatever had taken him a year behind had done so for a reason. He wasn’t going to waste this second chance. Every single person who had betrayed him would pay…starting with her. Serena had wormed her way into his life, made him believe she loved him. She had played the role of the devoted wife so well that he had never suspected a thing. And all the while, she had been poisoning him, waiting for him to grow weak enough to finally die. And for what? Money? Power? A life with Lucas? He clenched his fists. He would strip her of everything. She had chased after him, thrown herself at him, made him believe he was the love of her life. She had planned it all so perfectly. But now, it was his turn. Nate would let her think she still had control. He would let her believe she could still manipulate him, that he was just a paranoid, overworked man lashing out. He would let her feel safe. And then… He would take everything. Her wealth, her security, her reputation. He would drag her through the dirt, expose her for the snake she was, and when she had nothing left…when she had lost every single thing she had ever schemed for…he would make her grovel at his feet. She would plead, cry, beg for mercy. And he would give her none. Because mercy was for those who deserved it. And Serena Aldric never would.
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Six
That night Ethan stepped into the hospital room, his jaw tightening the moment his eyes landed on Liam Grant.The man was unrecognizable.Bandages covered his face. His right eye was swollen shut. His lips were busted, stitches lining his cheek. His legs were raised, both wrapped in thick casts. His arms, too, were covered in bandages, and from the way he lay there…motionless, hooked up to machines…Ethan knew it was bad.He slowly turned his gaze to the men standing by the window. They looked battered, their faces bruised, arms in slings, but they weren’t nearly as bad as Liam.Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets, his voice sharp. “What the hell happened?”The men exchanged nervous glances. One of them, a stocky guy with a deep cut on his forehead, let out a bitter breath. His voice was shaky, like he was still rattled by what had happened.“It was an ambush,” he muttered.Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Ambush?”The man nodded stiffly, licking his dry lips before speaking again. “We were
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Nate stepped into the mansion, letting the chauffeur shut the door behind him. The house was quiet except for the faint clinking of cutlery from the dining room. His eyes swept over the space…nothing had changed. Same expensive furniture. Same grand chandeliers. Same perfect, picture-book life.But it was all a lie.His wife, Serena, sat at the long dining table, smiling as if nothing in the world could ruin her mood. The table was covered with dishes, a feast laid out like some celebration. And at the very center, steam curled from a cup of tea.His stomach twisted.“Welcome home, darling,” Serena said, her voice warm, eyes soft. She stood gracefully, hands clasped in front of her. The wife who had poisoned him. The woman he had loved more than anything.Once upon a time, he would have walked straight to her, taken her in his arms, kissed her forehead, and told her how much he had missed her.But now?Now, all he felt was hatred.“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his tone ev
Four
Nate stood, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. The cold night air bit at his skin, but he barely noticed. His mind was set.He scrolled through his contacts, his thumb hovering over a name he had never dared to call before.Vincent Blackwell.A man with men.Men who didn’t ask questions.Nate had known about him for years. People whispered his name in the darkest corners of the city. He was the kind of man you only contacted if you wanted something done.Before, Nate had always believed in handling things the right way. The legal way.But that version of him was dead.Without hesitation, he pressed the call button.The phone rang twice before a deep voice answered. “Aldric.”No greetings. No fake pleasantries.“I need something handled,” Nate said, his voice steady.Vincent chuckled. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d ever hear from you.”“I want Liam Grant dealt with.”A pause. Then, “Who the hell is Liam Grant?”Nate’s grip on the phone tightened. He took a slow bre
Three
Laughter.Loud. Familiar.Nate’s eyes snapped open. His breath hitched.He wasn’t on the cold floor. He wasn’t coughing up blood. He wasn’t dying.He was sitting at a large dining table, surrounded by people.His heart pounded as he looked around. The room was bright, golden light bouncing off the chandelier above. Plates of untouched food sat before him. Wine glasses clinked. The air smelled of roasted meat, expensive liquor, and cologne.Ethan Maddox sat across from him, laughing as he leaned back in his chair. Owen Carter, on his left, smirked at something someone had said.His hands clenched the edge of the table. This wasn’t right.He was supposed to be dead.But everyone was here. His friends. The ones who had betrayed him.Nate’s pulse raced. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. He pinched his own arm under the table. Hard.Pain shot through him. His stomach churned.This was real.He was here.But how?Ethan’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Damn, Nate, you really just p
