Semua Bab From Prison To Power: The Ex-Wife's Vengeance : Bab 11 - Bab 20

Chapter 12Valencia's POVThe aftermath of my digital arson was still glowing on the monitors when Silas led me down a spiral staircase I hadn’t noticed before. The air changed as we descended, losing the scent of sandalwood and old paper, replaced by the sharp, ozone tang of high-voltage cooling fans and the unmistakable, lingering smell of... nacho cheese?"I’m giving you a partner," Silas said, his voice echoing off the metallic walls. "He’s brilliant, he’s effective, and he’s an insufferable headache. Try not to kill him before the merger falls through."He palmed a biometric scanner at the bottom of the stairs. The heavy blast door hissed open, revealing a room that looked like a NASA control center had been hit by a tornado of snack food and vintage electronics.Cables snaked across the floor like neon vines. Dozens of monitors formed a panoramic wall of light, and in the center of it all, slumped in a high-tech ergonomic chair that probably cost more than a mid-sized sedan, w

Chapter 14Valencia's POV The rain in the city was a coordinated performance, as if the heavens themselves had been bribed by the Rossi PR machine to provide the perfect backdrop for a tragedy.On the massive LED wall in the Library, the live broadcast flickered with high-definition grief. I sat in the dark, my legs tucked under me in the oversized leather chair, a glass of vintage Petrus, Silas’s favorite clutched in my hand. The deep red liquid caught the light, looking like the blood of the woman they were burying today."Look at him," I whispered to the empty air.Antonio stood at the head of the empty mahogany casket, his face a masterpiece of curated sorrow. He wiped at his eyes with a silk handkerchief, his shoulders shaking just enough to convince the cameras of his heartbreak. Beside him, Clara stood like a dark shadow. She wore a heavy black wool coat, buttoned to the chin, but as she moved to adjust her veil, the wind caught the hem.A flash of scarlet silk.She was wea

Chapter 16 Valencia’s POV The lower courtyard was a pit of gray concrete and biting wind. The sun hadn't quite cleared the horizon, leaving the world in a bruised shade of violet. I stood there, my lungs burning with the intake of the frigid morning air, wearing only a thin tactical tracksuit. Dante was already there. He didn't look like he had slept; he looked like he had been forged in a furnace and quenched in ice. He didn't say good morning. He didn't ask how I felt. He simply pointed to a heavy, sand-filled tactical vest lying on the ground. "Put it on," he barked. "Twenty laps. If you vomit, do it while you’re moving. I don't stop the clock for weakness." I didn't argue. I couldn't. Silas’s words from the library were still echoing in my skull, a rhythmic, cruel chant: Momentary lapse. Biological necessity. Weapons do not catch feelings. Every step I took was a strike against the concrete. The vest weighed forty pounds, pulling at my shoulders, digging into the skin that w

Chapter 18Valencia’s POVThe heavy bag swung with a rhythmic, violent *thud* that echoed through the hollow expanse of the Blackwood gym. My knuckles were raw, the white hand-wraps stained with small, blooming blossoms of red where the skin had split, but I didn't stop. I couldn't.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Maria’s cold, professional face. Every time I breathed, I felt the phantom pressure of Silas’s weight pinning me to the infirmary bed. I was caught between two monsters, and the only way to keep from screaming was to turn my body into a machine.Left hook. Right cross. Pivot."You're going to tear a rotator cuff if you keep overextending like that, Princess."The voice came from the shadows near the equipment racks. It wasn't the commanding boom of Dante or the chilling rasp of Silas. It was Jax, leaning against a weight bench, a glowing blue device held in his hands. He looked different, tired, his usual playful smirk replaced by something tight and shadowed."I told y

Chapter 20Valencia’s POVThe night was a shroud of charcoal and salt. I lay prone on the rusted corrugated roof of a warehouse overlooking Pier 17, the cold metal biting through the fabric of my tactical suit. The Neurolink hummed at the edge of my consciousness, sharpening the world into high-contrast edges. Every ripple in the black water of the harbor, every flicker of a distant streetlamp, was processed with surgical clarity.In my hands, the McMillan TAC-338 felt like an extension of my own skeletal structure. The suppressor was long, sleek, and cold, a silent judge waiting to pass a sentence."Wind speed four knots, east-southeast. Adjust two clicks left," Jax’s voice crackled in my earpiece, smooth and focused. He was miles away in the basement of Blackwood Manor, but through the digital link, he was my eyes in the sky. "The Rossi shipment is being moved onto the Star of Naples now. Twenty million in 'medical supplies' that are actually high-grade precursors for the Syndicate