Chapter 13: Accusation

Kane stared, refusing to believe what his eyes insisted on showing him: Alicia still stood where she was, unharmed—not a drop of blood on her. He blinked, stunned.

Alicia mocked him, voice edged with amusement. “The feared Desert Skull Reaper. Not only has your marksmanship worsened, your eyesight isn’t any better.”

Kane’s face drained of color. He stuttered, “How… how did—”

He cut himself off, forcing his expression flat. “You’re talking nonsense. You just got lucky I missed.”

Alicia smiled, playful and cruel. “Betraying your brother muddled your brain. The past will keep hunting you. Hiding in the streets can only keep you alive for the mediocre life you chose.”

Kane flinched. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m someone here to make a deal,” she said, grinning. “A friend.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“My name is Catherine Alexander.”

His gaze sharpened. “The missing daughter of Alexander—the CEO of Golden Corp…”

He fell silent. He still couldn’t reconcile what he’d seen: she hadn’t just dodged a bullet—she’d done it without breaking a sweat.

He hadn’t survived this long by fighting unwinnable battles. He made his decision. “I’ll call my men back. But you’ll pay compensation for my daughter’s death. Even if you kill me, the company won’t function as long as my people control the streets.”

“I’m not here to kill you,” Alicia said. “I’m here to deal. Don’t call off your men—I want them as company security. Double their pay. And if they’re willing to work for me, there are plenty of open positions.”

She turned and walked away without waiting for his answer. Kane watched her go, face distant, haunted by old ghosts.

“How are my brothers?” he called after her.

“Two more are down,” she said, and disappeared into the hard white glare outside the warehouse.

Kane lowered his eyelids, fists clenching until his knuckles paled. He pressed his lips together, eyes heavy with regret.

Alicia didn’t return to the company’s gate. Instead, she took a taxi straight back to the mansion.

When she arrived at the estate, she entered through the front gate on foot. The security guards immediately radioed the chauffeurs, and a car was sent to drive her from the gate to the main house.

The moment Beatrice heard Alicia was back, she rushed outside. She couldn’t wait to see her bruised and battered by the thugs she’d arranged at the company’s branch street. But when Alicia appeared—looking exactly as she had that morning—Beatrice’s eyes filled with disappointment, shock, and disbelief.

“Did you go to the company?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Alicia replied curtly, her expression unreadable. Then she walked past, unbothered.

Beatrice still didn’t believe it. She went straight to the head butler and asked, “Which branch address did you give Catherine?”

Seeing Beatrice’s cold expression, the butler broke into a sweat. “The one you instructed me to give,” he said anxiously.

Beatrice’s gaze sharpened. “If it’s not the exact address I told you, I’ll make sure you don’t have a family to go home to—even after you’re laid off.”

Terrified, the butler straightened. His whole body trembled as he stammered, “I wouldn’t dare deceive you, madam. It was exactly the address you gave me. I wouldn’t fool you—you know I can’t.”

Beatrice stared him down for a beat, then turned on her heel and walked away.

At dusk, Winnie returned home beaming. The moment she stepped out of the car, she ignored the servants’ greetings and sprinted up the stairs, bursting into her mother’s room.

“Mom, how did it go? Was Catherine assaulted like we planned?” she asked, grinning.

Beatrice’s expression soured as the failure settled over her again. “Nothing happened to Catherine,” she muttered. “I’m starting to think she knew what we arranged and decided not to show up at the company.”

Winnie went quiet, then her eyes lit up. “Before I left for work, I heard she got into an unfamiliar car right here at the mansion. I’m guessing she invited her sugar daddy over. They probably fooled around all day, and she forgot to go to the company.”

Beatrice perked up, but suspicion narrowed her gaze. “Are you sure it wasn’t Andy’s car?”

“I’m sure,” Winnie said, frowning as if the answer insulted her. “The servants all know what Andy’s car looks like. And that cripple can’t get into most cars anyway—only his usual modified one.”

Beatrice didn’t reprimand her. She simply smiled, satisfied.

At dinner, Beatrice struck early. “Cathy, how was the company today?”

“Good,” Alicia replied curtly, and began to eat.

Alexander shot his wife a wary look. He knew her too well to believe in sudden tenderness without an agenda.

With a theatrical sigh, Winnie added, “All the servants are talking. Even if you want to fool around with random men, you shouldn’t bring them into the mansion.”

Alexander’s face fell; his grip tightened around his fork. Beatrice leaned in sweetly. “Catherine, dear, if you don’t want Andy after learning about his condition, just say so. I’m your mother—I’ll support you. But carrying on with other men while you’re engaged, with a wedding around the corner, will tarnish the Alexander family’s name.”

As soon as Beatrice finished, Alicia looked up and said evenly, “Andy drove me to the company this morning.”