Mr Kingston, It's Too Late のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 41 - チャプター 45

"Security," Vivian commanded, a cruel, victorious smirk stretching across her face. "Escort my son's extortionist out of our building. And if she resists... call the police."The two heavy-set security guards standing by the mahogany doors took a step forward.They didn't make it to the second step.Raphael moved faster than anyone anticipated. He stepped squarely in front of Claire, his broad shoulders completely shielding her from the rest of the room. The dark, murderous energy rolling off him was absolutely suffocating."Take one more step toward my wife," Raphael’s voice was a low, lethal vibration, "and I will personally make sure you never find work in this city again."The guards froze instantly. They looked nervously at Mr. Davis, completely unwilling to test the billionaire's threat.Claire didn't cower. She didn't hide behind her husband.She took a deep breath, silencing the frantic panic in her chest, and stepped out from behind Raphael's arm. She lifted her chin and look

The penthouse living room looked like a complete disaster zone.The expensive glass coffee table was covered in scattered files, half-empty coffee cups, and three different laptops. Ethan was sitting cross-legged on the plush rug, staring at a screen filled with endless lines of banking codes. He looked like a zombie."I hate offshore accounts," Ethan groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. "I really, really hate them."Raphael stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. He was on his phone, talking to one of his private fixers."I don't care what the premium is," Raphael said, his voice low and dangerous. "Buy the personal debt of the three loudest board members. Davis first. I want them sweating by tomorrow morning. Call me when it's done."He hung up and tossed the phone onto the sofa. He looked over at the kitchen island.Claire was sitting on a barstool, tapping a pen against a yellow notepad. She ha

The penthouse was completely silent except for the low, frantic clicking of a computer mouse.The air in the living room felt heavy and stale. The sharp smell of burnt coffee lingered in the kitchen. Raphael sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, pressing the heel of his hand hard against his forehead. His healing rib throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that made every breath uncomfortable. He had not slept for more than two hours since they returned from the cabin.Ethan let out a loud, frustrated groan. He pushed his laptop slightly away from him on the glass coffee table."Boss, you need to sleep," Ethan said, his voice raspy. "I have been digging into this Brooklyn textile supplier for three straight hours.""What did you find?" Raphael asked, dropping his hand. His dark eyes were bloodshot but intensely focused."Nothing illegal," Ethan said, pulling the laptop back. "The guy is totally legitimate. He imports high quality velvet. He pays his taxes on time. He doesn't have a crimin