Chapter 124

"I'm perfectly sober. Don't underestimate me," Nathan growled, his voice laced with irritation.

Julian's brow furrowed as he stepped closer. "I'm just worried some opportunistic bastard might take advantage of you."

Nathan scoffed, tilting his head with a mocking smirk. "Unlike you, not every man is a predator in disguise."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode toward his waiting Maybach, leaving Julian standing in the dimly lit parking lot.

The sleek black car glided down the deserted road, the hum of the engine the only sound in the tense silence.

"Mr. Blackwood," Oliver began cautiously from the driver's seat, "the press conference concluded, but the backlash against Ms. Cassandra has intensified. It's damaging the Blackwood family's reputation—and Blackwood Industries."

Nathan's fingers tightened around his phone. "Blackwood Industries?" His voice was low, dangerous.

Oliver swallowed. "Yes, sir. The fallout is worse than anticipated."

A bitter laugh escaped Nathan's lips. "Of course. They only keep me around to clean up their messes."

The Blackwood family had never truly accepted him. Aside from Reginald, no one—not even his own father, Leonard—had ever treated him as anything more than a tool.

If they wanted to play this game, he'd let Cassandra burn.

His jaw clenched. They used me. They hurt Evelyn. Cassandra deserves every bit of this.

Then, a realization struck him like a physical blow.

Evelyn. My wife.

The word sent an unexpected tremor through him.

Had that infuriating, sharp-tongued woman really gone running to Julian just to spite him?

His grip on his tie tightened, a slow-burning fury coiling in his chest.

"Oliver. Pull over."

The car came to a smooth stop beside a quiet park, the trees rustling in the evening breeze.

"Sir, are you feeling unwell? Should I fetch a—"

"You are the sick bag," Nathan snapped, shooting Oliver a glare that made the younger man flinch.

With a huff, Nathan shoved the door open and stepped out, the cool air hitting his face like a slap.

"Wait here."

He stalked toward the park, his polished shoes crunching lightly on the gravel path. The breeze carried the faint scent of damp earth, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension in the car.

For a moment, he just breathed, letting the quiet settle over him.

Then—

His shoulders tensed.

"Who's there?" His voice cut through the stillness like a blade.

A low chuckle echoed from the shadows. "Sharp ears. Almost like a guard dog's."

Nathan turned slowly, his gaze locking onto a towering figure emerging from the darkness.

The man was built like a soldier—broad-shouldered, clad entirely in black, his face obscured by a mask. Only his piercing eyes were visible, glinting with something dangerous.

"Who the hell are you?" Nathan's muscles coiled, ready.

The stranger cracked his knuckles, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet. "Isn't it obvious? I'm here to teach you a lesson."

Nathan's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because you hurt someone important to me." The man tilted his head, a predator sizing up prey. "And I think she'd feel better if you suffered a hundred times worse than she did."

Recognition flickered in Nathan's mind—something about the man's voice, his stance, was familiar. But the memory slipped away like smoke.

The stranger took a step forward, the air around him turning frigid.

"Who is this person I supposedly hurt?" Nathan kept his tone even, though every instinct screamed at him to brace for a fight.

The masked man laughed, dark and humorless. "I thought I'd go easy on you if you showed remorse. But you're just a heartless bastard, aren't you?"

Another step closer.

"If I don't make you bleed, you'll never understand what you've done."