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Let's make Chapter 6 center on the aftermath of the rival group's letter—it lets us raise tension, show how
Chapter 6 – Tightening the Net
The letter from Crimson Lotus sat on Logan's desk, its black wax seal cracked in two. Only a single line was written inside:
"The debts of fifteen years are never paid in silence."
He read it for the sixth time that morning. Outside, rain streaked across the tall windows of the study, blurring the world into gray. Every drop echoed the same pulse of irritation behind his temples.
"Has anyone spoken to the informant yet?" he asked without looking up.
Mikhail shook his head. "He disappeared before dawn. No trace on the cameras."
"Then he's dead," Logan muttered. "Clean the ports. No shipments in or out until I say so."
The men scattered to obey. Only Ethan lingered, quiet and watchful. "You think they'll come here?"
"They want me nervous," Logan replied. "Let's give them disappointment instead."
When the door closed, he finally leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The same words burned in his mind—fifteen years. The night his father's empire collapsed. The same year his twin sister's heart stopped for three whole minutes before the coma began. Whoever Crimson Lotus was, they remembered too much.
---
Downstairs, Catty carried a tray of breakfast into the grand hall. The staff's chatter had changed: shorter sentences, quick glances toward the doors. Even Sofia's usual laughter had quiet edges.
"What's going on?" Catty asked under her breath.
Sofia shrugged. "Orders. No one leaves the grounds. They say an enemy sent a message."
"Enemy?"
"This house has plenty of those," Sofia said softly, then forced a smile. "Don't worry. You'll get used to it."
But Catty didn't. The unease in the air felt alive. Guards patrolled twice as often, whispers followed her steps, and each corridor seemed narrower than the day before.
---
In the security room, screens showed every angle of the mansion. One feed flickered—just for a second—then steadied again. No one noticed the tiny figure moving along the garden path beyond the wall.
---
By evening, Logan was in the courtyard, watching rain drip from the iron railings. Catty came out carrying a stack of towels, unaware he was there until his voice cut through the drizzle.
"You walk too quietly," he said.
She startled, almost dropping the towels. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean—"
He turned, eyes sharp but tired. "Don't apologize. Most people in this house make too much noise."
For a heartbeat, silence filled the space between them—only the sound of rain and distant thunder.
"Everyone seems… afraid," she said carefully. "Did something happen?"
He studied her face, perhaps surprised she dared to ask. "People fear what they don't understand. And they shouldn't try to."
Her grip tightened on the towels. "Then what about you?"
He almost smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I stopped trying a long time ago."
She hesitated, wanting to ask more, but he was already walking away.
---
Later that night, Isabella found Catty polishing the main staircase. "Still working?" Her tone was sugar-laced venom.
"It's on my list," Catty replied quietly.
"Funny. You act like you belong here." Isabella leaned closer. "Let me give you advice—people who stand too close to him don't last long."
Catty kept her head down. "I don't stand close to anyone."
"We'll see," Isabella said, and her heels clicked away across the marble.
From the balcony above, Ethan watched the exchange, unreadable.
---
The next morning, Logan gathered his inner circle. "We move tonight. I want eyes on every dock from Moscow East to Vladivostok. Crimson Lotus thinks we're blind—prove them wrong."
As the men dispersed, he paused at the doorway. "Ethan."
"Yes, sir?"
"Keep the maids inside. Especially the new one."
Ethan raised a brow. "Catty?"
Logan didn't answer. He didn't need to.
---
Catty spent the day in the laundry room, sorting uniforms that smelled faintly of gunpowder. Sofia popped her head in with a grin. "You're being watched, you know."
"What?"
"Orders from the top," she whispered. "Means he doesn't want you caught in trouble. Take it as a compliment."
Catty frowned. "Or a warning."
Sofia's grin faded. "Both, maybe."
---
That night, thunder cracked again, and engines rumbled beyond the gate. The mansion lights dimmed as the strike team slipped out into the storm. In the silence that followed, Catty pressed her hand to the windowpane and felt the pulse of danger through the glass.
Somewhere in the distance, a flash of red—like a lotus petal—flickered in the dark.