CHAPTER 62:
The SE Mansion stood tall and cold like a fortress carved from secrets. Its marbled gates opened slowly as Adele's black car pulled in, tires crunching against the gravel path lined with tall hedges and hidden cameras. The estate was silent, too silent—even the birds seemed to avoid this place.
Adele stepped out with poise, dressed in a fitted navy dress, her expression respectful but unreadable. She walked through the main corridor, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Two guards flanked her as they led her into a private chamber decorated in dark gold, velvet, and mahogany.
The Shadow Executive sat near the grand window, bathed in shadows and the dim morning light. He didn't stand to greet her.
"Mr. Howard said he'll come personally," Adele began, standing with her hands clasped in front of her. "Alone. He doesn't want anyone escorting him."
The SE's eyes glinted. "Good. As expected."
Silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, he raised a hand and waved it lazily.
"You may leave," he said. "Your task is done. It's almost over."
Adele bowed her head. "Yes, sir."
As she walked back through the corridor, her calm exterior didn't waver. But just as the mansion gates closed behind her, from inside, the SE erupted into a chilling, guttural laugh. It echoed across the marble walls like a villain in a final act.
---
Outside the estate, Adele walked briskly to a quiet corner behind her parked car. She pulled out her phone and quickly made a call.
"It's done," she said. "Camera planted. Hidden well behind the sculpture above the fireplace. Full visual and audio access."
Mr. Howard's voice crackled through the speaker. "Perfect. I'll meet him tomorrow. But this time... another death won't happen under my nose. I'll fight till death if I have to."
She didn't respond—there was nothing more to say.
After the call ended, Howard sat in his quiet study. His hands trembled slightly as he placed the phone down. On the desk before him was an old photo of Kate's father, smiling in a family portrait. A younger Kate, no more than six, held her father's hand.
He whispered, "I won't fail her again."
---
Later that day, Adele returned to Donovan Corp.
She entered her office only for her phone to buzz instantly—an internal alert from Donovan's assistant.
"Come to the executive floor. Now."
Her pulse quickened. She stepped into the elevator and adjusted her blouse, mentally bracing herself.
Donovan Grant's floor was eerily empty. As she stepped into his expansive office, the floor-to-ceiling windows gave a perfect view of the city skyline, as though he was watching over all of it.
He turned from the window and smiled—a sharp, cold smile that didn't touch his eyes.
"You've done well," he said, motioning for her to sit. "I heard you didn't disobey the SE."
"No, sir," she replied calmly.
"Loyalty like that…" He poured himself a drink, "...deserves reward. Your salary just doubled."
"Thank you."
Donovan walked back to his desk, trailing his fingers across a row of miniature sculptures of famous empires—Rome, Babylon, Egypt.
"You know, Adele," he murmured, "Kate… William… Mr. Howard… just wait. Their downfall is crawling closer than they think."
He turned his back on her, signaling the end of the meeting.
As Adele left the room, the door clicked shut behind her.
Donovan picked up the phone immediately. "Initiate Phase Two," he ordered. "They must not live to see the truth."
---
That night, the SE's mansion was quiet. But inside, the camera Adele planted blinked softly, barely noticeable—a silent witness to everything.
Somewhere else, in a quiet apartment, Mr. Howard opened a folder and stared at a flash drive marked with a trembling hand.
It contained a video.
He pressed play.
The screen flickered, then showed a younger Kate playing in a field. Her father's voice could be heard in the background, narrating details about a suspicious board meeting, about shares being stolen, about the first threats made against him.
And in the corner of the frame—barely visible—stood a familiar silhouette.
The SE.
Howard clenched his fists.
---
The Next Morning
Mr. Howard arrived at the SE's mansion dressed in a modest black suit. His silver hair was neatly brushed back. He looked like a gentleman visiting for tea, not a man walking into the lion's den.
The SE welcomed him with a fake warmth.
"Mr. Howard… I was beginning to wonder if you'd come at all."
"I said I would," Howard replied calmly.
They moved to a private study, a space cloaked in heavy drapes and silence. The walls were lined with old paintings and an enormous world map with red pins scattered across continents. It was the SE's war room.
"Let me tell you a story," the SE began, pouring them both tea, though Howard didn't drink.
"The East Wing. Inside Dray Mansion. It was always more than just a wing. It was a vault—of truths, regrets, failures, and death."
He went on, his voice smooth like poisoned honey.
"Kate's parents… they weren't just unfortunate. They were liabilities. They stumbled too close to the heart of the matter. Evidence, audio logs, blood reports, sealed statements—they saw what they weren't meant to."
Howard's face remained unreadable.
"And now," the SE leaned forward, "we're building a second incident. A perfect replica. Frame Kate and William for an international AI scandal. Connect them to data leaks, cybercrime. Discredit them. Then, when no one believes them…"
He sipped his tea. "Burn the East Wing again. Bury the bloodline."
He smiled, almost fondly. "And now that she's pregnant, we bury three generations in one clean sweep."
Howard finally spoke. "You think no one will ask questions?"
"Questions die when you control the media, the courts, and the law," the SE replied. "That's why I built this empire."
He leaned back. "Now. Your part. Are you ready to fulfill your final duty?"
Howard paused. "I'll think about it."
The SE chuckled, satisfied. "Take your time. You'll see that resistance is meaningless."
---
Outside the mansion, the moment Howard crossed the gates, his demeanor shifted.
He moved quickly down the road, away from cameras, before slipping into his car.
He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small microchip recorder. He stared at it for a moment, then placed it carefully into a steel case.
Every word, every confession, every plan—the SE had unknowingly exposed himself.
Howard whispered, "This time… Carlos, SE, Donovan, Clark… I have you all."
---
Back inside the mansion, the SE poured himself another drink and stood before the fireplace. Flames flickered, reflecting in his cold eyes.
"They'll never recover from this," he said aloud, raising a toast to himself.
But behind the sculpture above the fireplace, the tiny red light blinked again.