CHAPTER 454: HOSPITAL UNDER ATTACK

For Camilla’s convenience, Sinclair switched the call to speakerphone without hesitation.

Ramsey’s voice filled the private room.

Taylor, his long legs crossed, lounged in a single-seater sofa, a glint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

Seemed like an intriguing show was about to unfold—one he hadn’t been clued in on.

Camilla rested her head lazily against her hand, a faint smile playing on her lips.

But a closer look would reveal the chilling depth in her clear, bright eyes—devoid of any warmth.

"Once they’re caught," Sinclair said, his expression unreadable, calm as still water, "proceed as planned."

Reciprocation is only polite. Antonio had already sent his "gift."

It was only right that the Mega family received theirs in return.

Ramsey understood the unspoken command in his boss’s words and responded firmly, "Understood, President Luther."

Meanwhile, elsewhere—

"President Mega," A young man in black workwear strode in briskly, his voice low and icy as he addressed Stephen, who was resting on the bed.

"The spies planted by the old mansion have confessed.

Their orders were to poison your food—to ensure you can’t attend the charity gala the day after tomorrow."

Of course.

His elder brother’s methods were as filthy as ever.

Stephen didn’t open his half-lidded eyes, but the faint curve of his lips carried a cold, mocking edge.

"Got it.

You’re dismissed."

His tone was casual, as if none of this surprised him in the slightest.

"President Mega, there’s one more thing."

The young man hesitated but spoke up anyway.

"The people have already infiltrated the hospital."

The assistant studied Stephen carefully before voicing his thoughts.

"Since we’ve already done the Luther Family a favor, why not go all the way and lend them a hand directly—"

"Lend a hand?"

Stephen opened his eyes, his dark pupils glinting with an unreadable amusement.

"Who are we helping?"

Who are we helping?

Who else could it be?

The young man in overalls froze for a moment before answering truthfully.

"Sinclair, of course."

"Sinclair managed to take out Antonio—who was already on high alert—right under the Mega family’s nose in E country, without leaving a single trace of evidence."

Stephen’s lips curled into a cold, mocking smile.

"With skills like that, do you really think he needs our help?"

"But Sinclair is still human, not a god.

Sinclair can’t possibly anticipate everything."

The young man pressed his lips together stubbornly, unconvinced.

"Even if he knows the Mega family is plotting something, that doesn’t mean he can predict when or how they’ll strike—"

"You’re underestimating him," Stephen cut him off with a shake of his head.

"If you don’t believe me, just wait and see.

The truth will reveal itself soon enough."

The young man opened his mouth to argue further, but Stephen silenced him with a raised hand.

"If there’s nothing else, you may leave."

The young man in work clothes caught the unyielding tone in Stephen’s voice and didn’t dare to argue.

"Yes." Calvin didn’t linger.

The young man turned and walked out.

Once again, the room was left with only Stephen.

Stephen felt the dull ache in his legs and slowly closed his eyes.

The vengeance he had carried in his heart for years was finally about to be fulfilled—yet not by his own hand.

The feeling was... strangely bittersweet.

Stephen wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or regretful. ——

Meanwhile, at the hospital.

The director, flanked by two doctors, made his way toward Camilla’s ward.

Mega family’s informants noticed but paid it no mind.

The Hospital

The hospital director, accompanied by two doctors, approached the VIP ward where Camilla was staying.

Swallowing hard at the sight of the guards stationed on either side, he forced a professional smile.

"We’re here to check on Mrs. Luther’s condition.

Please let us in."

One of the square-jawed mercenaries scrutinized the trio, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

"You were just here not long ago.

Why the sudden return?"

God knows he didn’t want to be here either.

The director had barely left the hospital when he was dragged back under duress.

A bead of cold sweat trickled down his temple as he discreetly wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"Well, you see—"

Before he could finish, the black-framed doctor standing behind him took an almost imperceptible step forward.

The edge of the medical chart in his hand brushed lightly against the director’s back—a silent warning.

Dear God, this was terrifying! A chill shot up the director’s spine, freezing him in place. Under the mercenary’s piercing gaze, he stiffened slightly before clearing his throat and pressing on.

"We found some issues that need clarification with Mrs. Luther when reviewing the report."

"Since it concerns Madam’s health, we shouldn’t delay,"

The square-jawed mercenary gave a nod at this, pressing no further.

"Wait here.

I’ll go in and inform them."

The hospital director nodded silently.

The bespectacled doctor spoke politely.

"Much obliged."

After exchanging a glance with another mercenary nearby, the square-jawed man turned and knocked on the door.

"Mr. Luther, Madam—"

"Come in."

A woman’s voice, icy yet faint with exhaustion, drifted from inside. The target was indeed there.

The two doctors behind the director exchanged a swift, knowing look upon hearing the voice from the ward.

"Understood."

The square-jawed mercenary pushed the door open and stepped inside.

How could such a terrible thing happen?

Seizing the moment, the hospital director instinctively wiped the cold sweat from his forehead again.

"So much sweat," remarked the mercenary guarding the door, eyeing the director with unmistakable suspicion in his tone.

"Are you hot... or nervous?"

His words instantly froze the air in the room.

A shadow of something unspoken flickered in the eyes of the two men dressed as doctors, their hands subtly slipping into their pockets.

If anything went wrong, they would act immediately.

The director nearly buckled at the knees in fright and hurriedly replied, "Hot—it’s just the heat!

I’ve been..."

Fortunately, one of the doctors behind him stepped forward smoothly, steadying his arm, and said in fluent English with practiced calm,

"Apologies.

Our director has been overwhelmed with patients lately—he’s just exhausted."

The other doctor also moved closer, his eyes above the mask crinkling with a faint, reassuring smile.

"Exactly.

The director was supposed to be resting, but when he heard we were coming to see Mrs. Luther, he insisted on joining us to ensure everything was in order."

The director nodded eagerly, seizing the lifeline they had thrown him.

"Right, right."

"Ah, I see.

You’ve had a tough job."

The mercenary nodded, his furrowed brow relaxing as he muttered a brief acknowledgment before falling silent.

Just then, the door to the hospital room swung open from the inside.

The square-jawed mercenary glanced at the trio and stepped aside.

"You can go in now."

"Director, please, after you."

*Oh God, someone save me!*

The director stared at the open door, his face paling at the thought of Sinclair’s expression—and what was about to unfold inside.

But with the weight of what those two behind him carried in their pockets, he couldn’t refuse.

Swallowing hard, he forced his foot forward. The other two followed closely.

The moment all three stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind them.

*Thud—*

The crisp sound of the latch sealed off the room from the outside world.