Bound By A Broken Night novel Chapter 154

Chapter 154

“What do you mean we’re being ordered to vacate?” Red demanded, struggling to keep his voice level despite the disbelief surging through him.

“I’ve already spoken to the manager. We agreed on the rental terms. We’re supposed to sigri the contract this week.”

It was barely past sunrise when the sharp knock case. Now the doorway was crowded Mr. Celiz, the building administrator, stood stiffly in front, flanked by several security personnel whose presence felt less procedural and more like a threat. “We’ve received a direct order to have this unit vacated immediately,” Mr. Celiz replied, his tone clipped and unyielding.

“That’s impossible,” Red shot back.

“The deal was finalized. We’re just waiting for the paperwork. You can’t just storm in here and tell us to leave as if we’re squatters.”

Mr. Celiz’s lips curved into a thin, mocking smile. “We can, Mr. Knowles. There is no signed contract. Legaily, this company is not bound to you in any way.”

The words struck like a slap.

“You can’t just throw us out,” Red argued, fists clenching at his sides.

“That’s harassment. If this unit is suddenly unavailable, then assign us another one. We’ve already arranged everything”

“We don’t have any vacant units at the moment,” Mr. Celiz replied with casual indifference.

Mirriam stepped forward, her confusion quickly turning into unease.

“What did we do wrong? Have we violated any building policies?”

Mr. Celiz let out a soft chuckle, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Being a Knowles is violation enough.”

Silence fell like a heavy curtain.

“What?” Mirriam’s brows knit together, disbelief etched across her face.

Red’s expression hardened, his gaze narrowing dangerously at the administrator.

“Care to explain what you mean by that, Mr. Celiz?”

The smirk remained, but there was something calculated behind it now–something deliberate.

“You should know better than anyone,” Mr. Celiz said coolly.

“Orders from higher up are very clear. The building does not wish to be associated with the Knowles name.”

The implication hung in the air–this wasn’t about contracts or availability. It was personal.

Red took a slow step forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Mirriam, protective instinct kicking in.

“So this isn’t about policy,” he said quietly, the calm before a storm.

“This is simply harrassment.”

Mr. Celiz shrugged. “Call it what you want. You have until noon to vacate the premises.”

“Noon?” Mirriam echoed, her voice trembling. “That’s barely a few hours.”

“That’s more than generous,” the administrator replied flatly.

“Security will assist if necessary.”

Chore

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Red inhaled deeply, fighting the surge of anger clawing up his throat. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was a message. And whoever sent it warted the Knowles humiliated.

“Who ordered this?” Red muttered through clenched teeth, each word scraped raw with restrained fury.

Someone had pulled a string and it had tightened around their necks overnight.

Mr. Celiz adjusted the cuff of his sleeve, avoiding Red’s piercing stare for only a second before meeting it again with practiced composure.

“The directive came from the top, Mr. Knowles,” he replied evenly.

“And we are merely employees. We do not have the authority to question it–much less disregard it.”

Red let out a hollow laugh, humorless and sharp.

“From the top?” he repeated.

“That’s convenient. No name. No explanation. Just an order.”

“It is not my place to disclose further details,” Mr. Celiz said firmly.

“My responsibility is to implement management’s decision.”

“Management doesn’t usually deploy security at sunrise to evict tenants who haven’t violated a single rule,” Red countered, his voice lowering into something far more dangerous.

Mirriam swallowed, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of the table to steady herself.

“If this is about our name,” she said carefully, “then tell us. Who finds it so offensive that we have to be removed before we even sign a contract?”

Mr. Celiz’s expression hardened. “I suggest you direct that question elsewhere.”

Red stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the polished floor. The air seemed to thin between them.

“You think we’ll settle for some vague reasoning?” he asked quietly, his voice dangerously cold.

“That we’ll just pack up and disappear because someone powerful snapped their fingers?”

Mr. Celiz held his ground, meeting Red’s furious eyes.

“I think,” he replied carefully, keeping his tone measured, “that you understand how influence works in this city. Whoever sits

୮ at the top has the loudest voice.”

There it was.

Not a denial. Not even an attempt to soften the blow. Just confirmation wrapped in corporate civility.

Red let out a slow breath, his jaw ticking as he absorbed the implication.

“So this is intimidation.”

“You may interpret it however you wish,” Mr. Celiz answered evenly. “But the order stands.”

He paused, then his expression shifted–less official, more personal.

“And since we once moved within the same circles,” he added gravely, lowering his voice, “allow me to give you a heads–up. A friendly piece of advice, Mr. Knowles.”

Red’s eyes narrowed.

Chapter

“You may find it… difficult to secure another place within this district,” Mr. Celiz continued.

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“The directive is not limited to this company alone. It would be wiser to look elsewhere. Somewhere more remote. Lower–end residences, perhaps.”

The words struck harder than the eviction itself. Silence descended–heavy, suffocating.

Mirriam felt as if the walls were closing in. This wasn’t just about losing unit. This was about being erased. Blacklisted.

“You have until noon, Mr. Knowles,” Mr. Celiz reminded, straightening his coat.

“Please don’t make this difficult for all of us. Provoking whoever is at the top will not end well for you.”

With that, he turned sharply. The security personnel followed without a word, their synchronized footsteps echoing down the corridor until the sound faded into an oppressive quiet.

The door clicked shut.

Mirriam slowly turned toward her father, her heartbeat hammering in her ears. Panic was creeping in now–cold and real. They were being forced out of their home. And with their resources already strained, finding another place–one that matched their name and standing–would be nearly impossible.

“Dad…” she whispered, her voice trembling with dawning despair.

Red didn’t respond.

He stood still, shoulders rigid, gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of the room. His silence was not confusion–it was

calculation.

“Who could be behind this?” Mirriam pressed softly.

“Dad… who would go this far?”

Red’s eyes darkened, fury simmering beneath their surface.

“There’s only one person capable of orchestrating something like this,” he muttered, each word laced with restrained rage.

Mirriam held her breath.

“Only one name carries enough weight to dictate terms across Bay City,” he continued, his jaw tightening.

The room felt colder.

“CEO Ashton Pierce.”

tbc****