บททั้งหมดของ My Father’s Enemy, My Obsession : บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Cass has always liked puzzles.She does not like this one.“Okay,” she says, fingers already flying over the keyboard. “We’re building a Trojan horse that looks like a live nuke. No pressure.”On her main monitor, three windows glow.One is the sanitized slice of Lot 17 Mara used.The second is Damian’s internal summary notes—names, dates, connections that never left his secure vault.The third is a bare template drive. Cass has prepped, empty except for the scaffolding of her code.Nolan stands over her shoulder in the war room, arms folded, jaw tight.“What do you need?” he asks.“A blood sacrifice and a pizza, but I’ll settle for silence and no one breathing down my neck,” she says. “I have to make his system believe this is the original, with all the right fingerprints, without actually giving him the whole thing.”Damian perched gingerly at the edge of the table with one hand braced on its surface, watches too.“You have enough of the original’s hash patterns?” he asks.Cass nods

For a second, the rain is the only sound Ava hears.Not the water slapping the pilings.Not the distant city noise.Just the patter of it on her hood and the hollow roar in her ears.Your father once offered you to me.The words reverberate through her skull.She’d known in theory—Valen had hinted, Nina had warned—she’d even forced Vince to admit he’d “considered” selling her.But hearing it from the man who sat on the other side of that offer…It makes the betrayal feel viciously viscerally real.“You’re lying,” she says again, but there’s less conviction now.“Am I?” Valen asks mildly. “You could ask him. Oh, wait. He’s not taking your calls.”Her stomach clenches.She feels Damian move behind her, tension radiating off him like a second storm.“Ava,” he says, voice low with barely checked fury. “Step back.”She doesn’t.She can’t.Her feet feel glued to the slick boards.Valen’s gaze flicks over her shoulder to Damian.“You didn’t know?” he asks. “She didn’t tell you the full story

The floodlights hit the pier in a blinding wash of white.Engines idle loud and close. Doors slam. Voices rise—authoritative, sharp, echoing off the water.“Hands where we can see them!”“Stay back from the edge!”“Medical! We need EMTs now!”Ava squints against the glare, trying to shield Riley’s face with her body. Nolan still hasn’t moved from his knees. One hand stays on Riley’s back, feeling the fragile stutter of each breath, like if he lets go she’ll slip away again.“I’ve got you,” he tells her, over and over, not sure if he’s saying it for her or for himself. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”Her fingers twitch against the wet boards.“Don’t—” It comes out as a croak, her throat shredded by river water. She swallows, coughs weakly, and tries again. “Don’t…stop talking. Can’t…hear the sirens if you’re loud.”A breathless laugh shudders out of him. Relief, hysteria, love. All of it.“Bossy even half‑dead,” he mutters, wiping at his eyes with the back of his wrist. “That tracks.”Boot

It starts as a blip.Ava only notices it because Damian’s penthouse has floor‑to‑ceiling windows, and the city is usually such a steady, arrogant glow.One row of streetlights on the avenue below flickers.Once.Twice.Then steadies.She frowns, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee she’s been pretending to drink.“Did you see that?” she asks.Damian doesn’t look up from the tablet he’s reviewing. “See what?”“The lights.” She nods toward the glass. “They just stuttered.”He glances out, brow creasing.As if on cue, a smear of office windows halfway down a distant tower winks off, then back on, like someone hit a switch and changed their mind.His jaw locks.“Cass,” he says, already crossing to the wall screen. “Tell me that’s you making my skyline twitch.”“Nope,” Cass says, clipped. “That’s our friend.”On her end, she’s half‑sitting, half‑kneeling in her chair, ringed by monitors. The GRID schematic from last night is back up, but now some nodes are pulsing a sickly yellow in

The city never really sleeps, but it does pause—just enough to take a breath—around three in the morning.That’s when they choose to move.In the hours between the plan and the execution, everything fractures into small, practical rituals.Adrian lays weapons out on Damian’s dining table as if he’s setting silverware. Pistols first, then spare mags, then compact rifles fitted with suppressors. Knives. Comms. He checks each piece with a mechanic’s patience, wiping, loading, and clicking.Leo runs down building schematics with Cass, memorizing stairwells and service corridors, cross‑referencing them with what his instincts tell him about how a man like Valen would secure his nestNolan paces the length of the penthouse twice, then forces himself to sit and go over the legal distribution lists one more time: which evidence packages are going where, which allies will get what leak at what time. His phone buzzes every few minutes with updates from Nina.Riley is propped on one of Damian’s