บททั้งหมดของ His To Ruin: บทที่ 221 - บทที่ 230

Victor Wolfe slammed the door to his private lounge, the heavy wood rattling in its frame. Smoke swirled around him, curling from the expensive cigar clenched between his fingers, though it was clear he hadn’t lit it properly. The glass of bourbon on the table trembled as he set it down, a thin layer of frost forming on the rim from the icy tension in the room.The news was everywhere. Every headline, every breaking story, every social media post was a dagger straight to his ego:“Killian Jackson: The Wolfe Who Wasn’t.”“A Jackson, Not a Wolfe: How Killian Escaped the Family Shadow.”“Victor Wolfe, Golden Heir, Faces a Public Backlash While Brother Vindicated.”Victor’s chest heaved with rage. His hands shook as he tapped the remote furiously, flipping through every channel, refreshing every browser. No matter where he looked, Killian’s name was painted as the innocent, the clever, the misunderstood son, the golden wolf who had always been overshadowed.“How?” he hissed, voice sharp, t

Killian moved quietly through the modest apartment his uncle Mark had arranged for him and his father. The city outside had woken to another day, but for him, the day had begun long before the sun rose. Every detail mattered now, every decision, every move, every person who might shift loyalties.He paused at the small safe tucked into the floor under the bed, the one Mark had helped him hide when they first went into hiding. His fingers traced the edge of it for a moment, a brief connection to all the planning and sacrifices that had brought him here. Then he opened it.Stacks of cash, carefully labeled envelopes, and small envelopes with hidden contacts and instructions. This was more than money. This was leverage.Killian pulled it out, spreading it across the small table in the corner. Each stack represented allies, those who might still feel allegiance to the Wolfe family, men and women who could be swayed with the right combination of money and trust. If Robert and Victor were cr

It had been a month since the Wolfe empire crumbled, since the chaos had erupted, and life, slowly, was starting to find its rhythm again.Killian sat at the small breakfast table in their new home, the sunlight streaming through the tall windows, falling across the papers and blueprints he’d been studying. The house was modest but warm, a fresh start, and the kind of place where he could breathe without constantly looking over his shoulder. Ivy hovered in the kitchen, pouring coffee, her presence quiet but grounding.They had made a silent agreement, their relationship would stay private. No interviews, no social media appearances, no signs of the world that had tried to destroy them. This was theirs.“Do you think we’re really free now?” Ivy asked, leaning against the counter, a cup of coffee cradled in her hands.Killian smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Free enough to rebuild,” he said. “Not just survive… but actually live.”Killy, his father, was moving thr

Three weeks had passed since Killian and Ivy had begun planning their fresh start. Boxes were stacked neatly, moving schedules pinned to the wall, and for the first time in months, a faint sense of normalcy hovered in the air.Then the call came.Killian’s phone rang, the screen showing a number he didn’t recognize. Something in his gut told him to brace himself. He answered.“Killian Wolfe?” the voice was professional, steady, but heavy with gravity.“Yes… who is this?” he asked, unease curling in his chest. He did not bother to correct the caller that he isn't a Wolfe. “This is Detective Harris from St. Claire Psychiatric Facility. There’s been an incident… Victor Wolfe has been stabbed. He did not survive.”The words didn’t register at first. Killian’s hand trembled, the phone slipping from his fingers. His legs weakened. “What… what are you saying? No… he was under care… he...he was safe!”“There will be a full investigation, Mr. Wolfe. We’ll need your statement,” the detective co

The prison gates loomed high, the walls gray and unyielding, the scent of dust and steel filling the air. Killian sat in the car, hands resting on the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the towering complex ahead. Beside him, Ivy adjusted the strap of her bag, her fingers curling nervously around it. Killy, his father, sat silent in the back, the lines on his face deepened by years of wisdom, and by knowing the magnitude of the moment that awaited them.“This is it,” Killian said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.Ivy nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “For Victor’s sake, for all the people he destroyed… he need to see the consequences of everything he did.”Killy remained stoic, as always. “And he will,” he said finally. “Trust me. Justice has a way of catching up with those who think they’re untouchable.”The car stopped outside the visitors’ entrance. Guards checked IDs, scrutinized faces, but Killian’s calm presence and the official paperwork ensured their entry was smoo