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Chapter Thirty-Two: My Heartbeat.
Fecha de publicación:
2025-12-25 16:46:08
Crown ImaginationDear Readers, Compliments of the season! I hope you’re enjoying the story so far and loving the journey as much as I enjoy writing it. I’d like to inform you that I’ll be taking a short holiday break starting from the 26th of this month. Please don’t worry—I’ll be back fully refreshed 😊 From January 1st, I’ll resume with daily updates, dropping two to three chapters each day to make up for the short break. Thank you so much for your patience, love, and constant encouragement. Your support means everything to me, and I truly appreciate every reader who sticks with this story
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The words landed heavily. Donatus went still. Garry continued, “And even if you refuse to accept that, what does Cassienne have to do with it? What does her unborn child have to do with it? What does Tina have to do with it?” At the mention of Tina, Donatus’ expression shifted. Garry noticed. “You tried to kill her.” Donatus did not answer. “That silence is enough.” “She knew too much.” “She was scared,” Garry snapped. “She called Dreston because I told her to find help. You made her a target because she became inconvenient.” Donatus’ eyes darkened. “This is bigger than Tina Freshman.” “No,” Garry said. “It is smaller than you think.” That got the older man’s attention. Garry lowered his voice. “You keep dressing this up as revenge, legacy, justice, and family loyalty. But strip all of that away and what remains? A bitter old man who lost his brother and decided the whole world owed him a body count.” For a moment, Donatus looked like he might strike him. Garry almost wi
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Outside Richardson’s Vineyard, everything looked peaceful and quiet. The first light spread across the wide fields, touching the rows of grapevines with a pale golden glow. From a distance, the estate looked peaceful, almost beautiful. It looked like the kind of place where wealthy families hosted private tastings, signed expensive contracts, and pretended old money had no secrets buried beneath it. But deep inside one of the private buildings far away from the main estate house, Garry Richardson sat alone. The room he had been kept in was large enough to be comfortable, yet every corner of it reminded him that comfort was not freedom. The curtains were drawn. The doors were watched. His phone had been taken from him days ago. Two men stood outside the entrance at all times, and although they were polite enough not to touch him unnecessarily, Garry knew what would happen if he tried to leave. He leaned back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. He had stopped counting the
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Chapter Three Hundred And Sixty: Joseph Tremont finally left Emily's residence carrying more than a storage drive. He carried guilt. The kind that settled heavily on a man's shoulders and refused to leave. For years, he had convinced himself that he had done what was necessary. Auralink had been under attack. Investors had panicked. The media had been relentless. At that time, he was forced to make difficult decisions. That was what he told himself. Now, after watching Ethan Rhodes' recordings, those justifications felt hollow. The truth was simple. Ethan asked for help. And Joseph hadn't listened. The thought stayed with him during the drive across Lisbourn. Eventually, his vehicle entered the private driveway of the Simpson residence. The house stood proudly behind elegant iron gates. Joseph had visited many times over the years, but today felt different. Today he wasn't visiting family, he was carrying evidence. The butler opened the door before Joseph could knock. "M
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The room remained silent for a long time after the second recording ended. Neither Joseph nor Emily could say anything. The laptop sat on the table between them, waiting for the final recording to open. Joseph suddenly felt older than he had in years. Not because of age, but because of regret. Every recording seemed to strip away another layer of the story he had believed for decades. And every layer revealed the same thing: Ethan Rhodes had been telling the truth. Joseph slowly rubbed his face. Then looked toward Emily. "Did you watch all of this before?" Emily nodded. "Many years ago." Joseph swallowed. "Alone?" A faint smile touched her lips. A sad smile. "There was nobody else." The answer hurt more than she probably realized. Because it reminded Joseph of something he had spent years avoiding. Emily had carried all of this alone. The truth. The grief. The shame. And the accusations against her husband. Everything. And while she was carrying it... He had been protectin
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Neither Joseph nor Emily spoke for several minutes after the previous recording ended. The silence inside the room felt heavy and suffocating. Years of questions were beginning to receive answers. Unfortunately, every answer seemed to create another wound. Joseph leaned back against the sofa. His mind kept replaying Mike Richardson's words. "If Ethan won't give it to us willingly, we'll make him." The sentence refused to leave him. Because now he knew exactly what Mike had meant. Emily quietly reached for the laptop, her movements were calm and careful as if she had already relived these moments too many times. "There is more." Joseph looked at her. Then nodded. He wasn't sure he wanted to see more. But he knew he had to. Emily opened another folder. A different date appeared. It was a later date. The day everything changed. For a brief moment, Emily's fingers hovered above the touchpad, then she pressed play. The recording began. At first, the image was unstable, then the
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The room was quiet as Joseph Tremont sat motionless on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the small storage drive resting on the table between him and Emily. For years, he had believed the past was buried. Not forgotten, just buried. Now it sat in front of him, waiting. Emily reached for the drive and turned it over in her fingers. The object looked ordinary. Small. Simple. Yet both of them knew it carried enough weight to change lives. Perhaps even destroy them. “Ethan never trusted technology he didn’t create himself,” Emily said softly. Joseph looked at her. A faint smile appeared on her face. The first genuine smile since they began discussing the past. “He always believed someone could manipulate evidence.” Joseph nodded slowly, he thought that sounded exactly like Ethan Rhodes, brilliant, careful, always thinking several steps ahead. Emily stood and walked toward a nearby cabinet. A few moments later, she returned carrying a laptop. The device was older than most modern systems, b
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