bChapter /bb156 /b

bADRIAN’S /bPOV

Mrs. Grayson caught everyone off guard.

It was almost like she had been waiting–waiting for the exact moment when all eyes were off her. The second I shifted my full attention bto /bher husband, she made her move. Fast. Calcted. Her eyes had been locked onto that phone on the center table from the very beginning, just waiting for her chance.

What I couldn’t understand was what she expected to happen. Did she really believe that grabbing the phone and calling for help would somehow bsave /bthem both? That she and her husband would walk out of here with their heads high, like this was just isome /iharmless argument gone too farb? /b

The room was surrounded. She had seen the men stationed at every possible exit, yet she still lunged forward like a woman possessed. I had bto /badmit, she was faster than I expected–especially for her age. Her hand snatched the phone iso /iquickly, it almost looked like muscle memory, like she’d rehearsed it in her mind over and over. But it was pointless.

I was already in motion.

I grabbed her by the wrist–the same one she used to snatch the phone–and squeezed hard. My grip tightened like a více until her fingers gave out band /bthe phone ttered to the ground. Her face twisted in pain, and her knees buckled slightly from the force of it.

“This was your n? This was why you were so damn confident?” I said, my voice sharp with disbelief and mockery. “You were counting on a phone

call?”

Before she could reply, a sudden blow mmed into my ribs. My body lurched slightly to the side–not from the forceb, /bbut from the surprise. I hadn’t expected it. I had forgotten all about Mr. Grayson, who had gotten back to his feet.

The punch, though, wasughable.

My teeth clenched as I turned to face him. The pain was nothing. I’d taken hits from trained fighters. Broken bones and bloody knuckles were old friends of mine. Mr. Grayson’s punch felt like it came from a bitter child–not a man who helped destroy my mother’s life.

“That’s it,” I said, exhaling slowly, my tone calm but deadly. “Dan, take them to the basement before they try running out the front door againb./bb” /b

Dan moved without hesitation. He grabbed Mrs. Grayson by the wrist I’d just let go of and yanked her backward. She stumbled as she tried to resist, but bit /bwas no use. One of Dan’s men was already dragging Mr. Grayson toward the hallway. The old man cursed under his breath, still trying to act like he had some dignity left.

I didn’t follow immediately. Instead, I walked straight into the kitchen.

Like I’d told her–slow poison is always the most satisfying. And that’s exactly what I intended to give them: a slow, painful dose of justice.

I was originally meant to order some proper torture tools. Something special. But blife’s /bbeen busytely, and I forgot. So, I had to get creative with what I

had.

From the drawer, I picked up a kitchen knife–smallb, /bsharp, and unforgiving. Nextb, /ba lighter. Then ba /bfork. And finally, a spoon.

Yesb, /bba /bspoon.

Now you might be wondering–what the hell can someone do with a spoon? Trust me. There are more ways than you’d think. And tonightb, /bbI /bbnned /bbto /bdemonstrate ba /bfew.

By the time I descended into the basement, the air was heavy. Dan’s men had done a clean job—both Mr. and Mrs. Grayson were tied bto /bchairsb, /bwrists bound, ankles secured, mouths no longer spewing lies.

Seeing them like that–helpless, afraid, exposed–it felt better than I imagined.

bI /bpulled my mother’s photo out from my jacket pocket. The one I’d brought bfor /bbthis /bbexact /bmoment.

412

bWalking /bover bto /bbthe /bbsmall /bbtable /bin the center of the room, I ced the photo carefully on btop/b–positioning bit /bso bit /bfaced bboth /bbof /bbthem/bb. /b

b“/bbShe’s /bgoing to watch,” I said quietly, more to myself than to them. b“/bEverything I’m about to do… It’s all for her.”

b“/bbYou /bknow, Olivia spent a night down here,b” /bI said

Both bof /bthem froze.

b“/bIt’s funny, really… how her adoptive parents are going to die in the same ce.”

Mrs. Grayson flinched. Her posture stiffened, and for the first time since this began, her mask cracked. That forced calm she wore earlier like ba /bbadge of dignity slipped away, reced by something raw. Her lips trembled. Her eyes widened.

“What do you mean by die, Adrian?” she whispered, voice brittle.

And there it was.

Fear.

Not the kind people fake to try and win sympathy. No, this wasn’t a performance. It was real, wing through her, wrapping around iher /ispine like iceb. /bbI /bcould smell it. I could see it in the way her fingers curled around the rope bindings like they might suddenly save her. That fear–that was what I’d been waiting for.

I stepped closer, circling them like a predator.

“You think I brought you down here for a lecture?” I said,ughing softly, bitterly. “You think you’re going to leave this basement alive after what byou /bbdid /bto me? What you did to her?”

They didn’t answer.

“You thought this would be a p on the wrist punishment. Some angry speech, maybe a threat or two. Then I’d let you go back to your little lives and pretend this never happened. But no. No, you don’t get that luxury.”

I paused behind Mrs. Grayson’s chair, watching her shoulders rise and fall like she was gasping for control.

“You ruined my childhood. You ruined me. And not just me–you destroyed dozens of familiesb, /bscammed themb, /bstole from themb, /bleft them to brot/b. Do you even remember their names? Their faces? Or were they just numbers in your bank ount?”

I stepped forward again, now walking in slow, deliberate circles around the room, letting my words fill the space like poison.

“Because of you, I grew up in shadows. I trusted no one. I shut out the world. And when I finally thought I found someone–someone who might pull me out–you know what happened?”

They didn’t answer. I didn’t want them to.

“It was toote,” I said.

Mr. Grayson’s voice cracked through the tension. “Are you listening to yourself? You sound insane. You sound crazy.”

bI /bturned sharply to face him, eyes narrowing.

“You people made me this way,” I snapped, voice rising, echoing off the concrete walls. “You built bthe /bmonster I’ve be todayb../b”

They both went silent.

“All my life, I’ve had btwo /bgoals–make enough money to never need anyone, and get justice for my motherb. /bbTonight/b, justice bis /bbgonna /bbbe /bbserved/bb, /bso benough /btalking, it’s time for you to pay for your sins”

I walked back to the metal tray where I hadid out the utensils. My hand hovered bover /bthem–knife, blighter/bb, /bbfork/bb, /bbspoon/bb. /bbSimple /bbtools/b. bBut /bbtools /bbof /b

09:04 Sat 21 Jun

Chapter 156.

breckoning/b, nheless.

Behind me, they started pleading. Words of desperation, apologies wrapped in panic, empty promises. I didn’t hear any of it. I bhad /bsilenced their voices in my head a long time ago. Their words meant nothing to me now.

I picked up the knife, its de catching the low light. In my other hand, the lighter flicked open with a metallic snap.