CHAPTER 226: CHAPTER 226

As the sunlight cast a light across the sprawling estate, the heavy metallic gates slowly rolled open, not to let anyone in—but to let authority out.

From the long, stone-paved driveway emerged a young man dressed in an elegant dark-blue suit, tailored to perfection. His black hair was slicked back neatly, his posture commanding, his face striking—handsome enough to draw attention, and cold enough to hold it. Behind him trailed seven fully armed security guards, each walking in perfect formation like shadows that had sworn loyalty to his every step.

As they approached the gate, the two guards stationed there snapped upright. The younger one quickly stepped forward and whispered something into the man’s ear while gesturing toward Raymond. The man’s sharp eyes moved past them, locking directly onto Raymond.

Raymond didn’t flinch, he stood there with his arms crossed, eyes unblinking, still as stone—except for the subtle twitch of his jaw. He studied the young man from head to toe. His outfit. His stance. His air of confidence.

There was something... familiar.

The young man squinted slightly, confusion flickering behind his calm expression. Something about Raymond gnawed at him, as if a memory was trying to crawl its way out of the past, but couldn’t quite break through. He couldn’t place it. Yet instinct whispered that this wasn’t a stranger.

Still, not wanting to give himself away, he maintained his composure.

At that moment, one of the guards pointed his gun at Raymond again, as if to reinforce protocol. "Sir, this is the man. He says he knows you and has something very important to tell you."

The young man gave a faint nod, then stepped forward.

Standing now just a few feet away from Raymond—close enough to see the anger buried in his stillness—the young man spoke with a composed but slightly curious tone.

"Have we met before?" he asked, his voice cool and deliberate. "You look like someone I should know. But I don’t believe I’ve seen you before."

At that moment, Raymond didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied the young man in front of him with eyes so sharp, they could cut through stone. His gaze moved slowly, deliberately—from the man’s eyes to his lips, then down to the twitch of his fingers. Every muscle in Raymond’s face was calm, but the weight in his silence made even the surrounding guards hesitate.

Finally, with the slightest tilt of his head, Raymond let out a breath and said, "Interesting... you don’t know who Rebecca is?" His voice was low and laced with disbelief, but there was a coldness in it that made everyone around feel the rising tension.

The young man didn’t answer. His brows drew together like someone trying to act confused—but Raymond had already seen too much. He’d seen the flicker of recognition. The moment of fear. That instant of alarm when he mentioned her name. He wasn’t fooled.

"You asked me if we’ve met before," Raymond continued, folding his arms. "Funny... because that was my question to you. But I already know the answer. No, we haven’t. You and I don’t have anything in common. I didn’t come here for you. I came here for someone you seem very desperate to pretend you’ve never heard of."

The young man opened his mouth slightly, still trying to keep his composure.

Raymond leaned in just enough to lower his voice, but his words hit harder than a shout. "I said I’m here for Rebecca. Don’t act dumb with me. Don’t play like you don’t know her. You tensed the moment I mentioned her name. You tried to hide it, but it was too late. Your face said everything."

The guards looked at one another, uncertain. Their hands still rested on their weapons, but none of them dared to interrupt.

"I want to see her," Raymond said, stepping closer, his voice now commanding. "Call her. Let her know I’m here. Tell her Raymond is at the gate, and he’s not leaving without her."

At that moment, the young man, still standing with a mask of curiosity, forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Rebecca?" he asked slowly, trying to sound casual. "Who is Rebecca?"

At that moment, Raymond’s lips tightened into a hard, thin line. His jaw clenched. The calm in his eyes slowly dissolved into something far more dangerous—quiet, measured fury.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink.

He simply stood there, unmoving, staring at the man in front of him as if looking through him, as if reading him like an open book. His gaze wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to pierce pride, to silence ego. And for a split second, the young man in front of him—despite his suit, status, and security—felt like a child standing before a storm he couldn’t comprehend.

"Is that what you’ve decided?" Raymond said slowly, voice low and calm, but so cold it chilled the air. "You want to call the police on me? You want to sic your little toys with guns on me... for asking to see the woman who made you what you are?"

The man said nothing, but his silence was defensive now. His eyes flickered—not just with uncertainty, but with fear. A fear he didn’t understand yet, but it was there. He could feel it, crawling under his skin.

Raymond took one step forward.

Immediately, the guards raised their guns, the barrels now pointed directly at his chest.

But he didn’t stop, another step, then he spoke again, his tone now sharper, cutting into the thick silence like a blade through cloth.

"You may not know me. But your boss does. And believe me... if Rebecca hears that you pointed a gun at me—if Cecilia hears you tried to throw me off their doorstep—they will not just punish you. They will erase you."

The man’s eyes twitched. The name Rebecca again. It rang too loudly in his mind. It was too specific, too firm. Raymond was not guessing. He knew.

Raymond took another step. "Call them. Now. Or I’ll stop asking."

Still, the man resisted—he had to. His pride couldn’t allow him to back down in front of his men. "You’re making a mistake. This is a private residence. You’re trespassing. If you take one more step—"

"I said," Raymond cut in, his voice now like thunder breaking the sky, "Call. Them. Out."

And in that moment, the wind seemed to pause. Even the guards, unsure now, exchanged nervous glances. They were trained, yes. But something about this man—something about the way he stood there, unshaken despite all their weapons—made them hesitate.

The young man’s pride wavered. His grip on authority slipped, he opened his mouth to speak again, but Raymond beat him to it.

"Or," Raymond said, eyes narrowed, voice hard as steel, "I walk inside. And if I walk inside, no one will stop me. Not your men. Not your guns. Not even your master."

Silence, and then, without looking away, Raymond gave a final, quiet warning.

"Choose wisely."