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Underestimated Retribution Chapter 62: Trust Me
Mark stood beside his father's hospital bed, trying to hide the worry etched on his face. He hadn't mentioned the explosion, hoping to spare his father the stress. But Gabriel's knowing gaze told him otherwise. "I heard about the fire on the news, already," Gabriel said, his voice weak but firm. Mark's jaw clenched, his anger towards the media simmering. "Apparently, they like to lick up after sad news," he bit out. No one seemed to carry his charity projects on the wings of the wind like they did whenever he ran into stumbling blocks like this. Gabriel's expression turned reassuring. "Don't worry about it, son. Everything will be sorted out in due time." Gabriel sat up with an effort, wincing in pain as he moved, and then he cleared his throat and turned to look past Mark. "Sergei, Karen, could you give us some room, please?" He said, his voice weak but authoritative. Sergei and Karen nodded in understanding. "Of course, sir," Sergei replied, his deep baritone voice ironically
Underestimated Retribution Chapter 63: A Leap Of Faith
Elena was in her room, busily packing her bags, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of Mark and their impending reunion. Margaret stood in the doorway, a disapproving look on her face. "Elena, stop being a girl and let go of whatever fantasies you're growing in your head over Mark," Margaret said, her voice firm but laced with concern. Elena's annoyance flared, her eyes flashing with frustration. "He wants me back, Mum," she said, turning to face her mother. Margaret threw her hands up in the air, exasperation etched on her face. "Don't you find that strange? After everything that happened?" Elena stood in her room, contemplating the clothes she would need for her new life at Mark’s house. She thought about the elegant dinner parties and the luxurious lifestyle that came with being a Darius. The idea hadn’t really sat well with her back in Larson’s office, but as she thought about it, she realized it had really been all she could fantasize about in the days when Mark was still a v
Underestimated Retribution Chapter 64: Annoying Interruption
Mark drove Karen to a guesthouse in the heart of town, the soft hum of the engine and the gentle rustle of the wind outside a stark contrast to the turmoil that churned within him. His father was a co-owner of the business, so it wasn't difficult checking him into a suite, complete with plush carpets and a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Gabriel had advised him to stay low and away from the mansion temporarily, at least, until their enemies got tired of attacking them. As they entered the suite, Karen's hand instinctively reached for Mark's, her touch became a comforting reminder that he wasn't alone in this fight. The tension in his body eased slightly, his grip on her hand tightening as he pulled her close. The events of the past few days replayed in his mind like a haunting melody, the memories of death and destruction still fresh and raw. Karen's gentle voice broke the silence, her words a soft caress on his battered soul. "Mark, you need to rest. You've been through so m
Underestimated Retribution Chapter 65: Barging Elena
Mark stepped aside, allowing the guard to enter without so much as a glance in his direction. He was struggling to keep his anger in check, his frustration with the constant surveillance simmering just below the surface. He had told his father time and time again that he didn't need the guards, but Gabriel was always insistent. Mark muttered under his breath, "There's no privacy with their lot." The guard remained stationary, his eyes fixed on Mark with a neutral expression. Mark moved over to a wine cabinet in the room, pouring himself a drink as a way to calm his nerves. As he turned back to face the guard, he asked, "And what's your name?" The man's response was curt, "Ghost." Mark's eyebrows raised in amusement, and for a moment, he almost forgot about his anger. The name was fitting, given the guard's stealthy presence, and Mark couldn't help but wonder if it was a nickname or a surname. Mark's eyes narrowed, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Why would a mother give
Underestimated Retribution Chapter 66: Pawns In Number One's Game
Bennet sat in his car, still shaken from his recent encounter with Number One. He couldn’t shake off the feeling of being mere inches from death. He thought about how close he had come to being inside the building when the bomb went off. If he had known he was carrying a bomb inside the box he would have never agreed to do the job. But then he always knew there was something inside it. And that thing nearly cost him his life. The mere thought sent chills down his spine. He cursed under his breath, his anger and frustration boiling over. He was determined to get an explanation from Number One, but every time he tried calling, the line wouldn’t connect. His text messages went unanswered, leaving him feeling helpless and enraged. As he sat in the parking lot, his mind wandered to the potential consequences of being linked to the explosion. If Mark Darius had died, it would have been a twisted victory, but Bennet knew he would be in a world of trouble. He had to get in touch with Numb
Underestimated Retribution Chapter 67: Frustrated Jennet & Bennett
Jennet checked her lipstick in the mirror, ensuring everything was perfect, before locking the door behind her. As she walked to the bus stop, her mind wandered to her son, who was still in prison. "My son, oh, Brown," she thought to herself, her heart heavy with worry. She watched as the bus approached the stop ahead and quickened her pace to catch it, not wanting to be left behind. Jennet alighted in town and walked up to Bennet’s office, silently praying he would still be in. The parking lot of his firm’s building looked deserted when she arrived, and her hopes almost sank into her chest. But she smiled at the security guard in front of the door, who recognized her and opened the door with a courteous nod. She concluded that Bennet must definitely be in then. With renewed optimism, she walked up to his office, knocked on the door, and stepped inside. The familiar sight of Bennet’s organized desk and stern expression greeted her, and she felt a sense of relief wash over her. "He
Underestimated Retribution Chapter 68: A Taste of Your Poison
Mark walked back into the room, his eyes scanning the space as if searching for something out of place. He noticed Karen quickly putting down her phone, her movements swift and secretive. She gently set it inside her handbag, her eyes flicking up to meet him as he entered. "Sorry about the interruption earlier," Mark said, his deep voice filling the room. "I had to deal with an issue that came up impromptu." "It's fine," Karen replied, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. Mark's gaze lingered on her, sensing that something was off. "Is everything okay?" He asked, his tone gentle. Karen rose to her feet, her movements graceful. "I want to leave," she said, her voice curt. Mark's face fell, hurt evident in his eyes. "Why so soon?" He asked, his voice laced with disappointment. Karen's expression softened slightly. "I have to go check up on my uncle in the hospital, and then head back home to prepare for work tomorrow." Mark wanted to ask if she was still upset about the inciden
Underestimated Retribution Chapter 69: Brown Needs A Miracle
Brown sat in his prison cell, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and anxiety, staring into the darkness. Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford, not since the incident with the box. The memory of it made his skin crawl, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, even in the solitude of his cell. The officers had tried to trace the source of the box, but it seemed to have appeared out of thin air, with no leads or clues to follow. The thought sent a shiver down Brown's spine. Who could be so calculated, so ruthless, as to want him dead? He racked his brain, trying to recall anyone he might have offended, anyone who might hold a grudge against him, so deep that it would drive them to such an extreme. But his mind was a blank slate, unable to conjure up a single face or name. The more he thought about it, the more his anxiety grew, until he felt like he was drowning in a sea of uncertainty. Even the thought of being dead sent a wave of electricity pulsing up and down his spin
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