The Heiress He Underestimated novel Chapter 188

Chapter 188 To Kill A Dying Man

“Right on schedule,” Drakonius murmured.

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Finished

Frost spoke softly into his headset. “All teams, stand by. Let them get to the medical suite. Wait for my mark.”

The tension in the little room was a live wire. Elera held her breath, watching the hallway cameras. Two dark figures, dressed in black tactical gear, faces obscured, moved silently down the hall. They paused at the medical suite door. One produced a small device, placed it on the electronic lock. A green light blinked. The door hissed open.

They slipped inside.

Frost gave the command. “Now.”

What happened next was swift and almost anticlimactic. The lights in the medical suite blazed on. The two intruders froze, caught in the act of leaning over the bed. From hidden panels in the walls, four of Frost’s men emerged, weapons drawn, silent as ghosts.

There was no fight. The intruders were professionals but they were not fanatics. They saw the trap, the numbers, the complete lack of advantage to their side so they dropped their tools and put their hands up.

Frost’s voice came over the suite’s intercom, cold and flat. “On your knees. Hands behind your heads.”

On the screen, they complied.

Drakonius let out a long, slow breath. Elera realized she been gripping the edge of the console hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

“Let’s go say hello,” Drakonius said, pushing himself up. He picked up his cane, but he didn’t lean on it much.

They walked to the medical suite. Clara, jolted awake, stumbled after them, muttering about dramatic pacing.

The two intruders were on their knees, hands zip–tied behind their backs, Frost’s men standing over them. Their gear was high–end. Mercenaries.

Drakonius walked up to the first one, looked down at him, then reached out and pulled off his balaclava.

The man revealed was in his forties, with a scar over one eyebrow and a resigned expression. He didn’t look afraid. Just… disappointed in the job.

“Who hired you?” Drakonius asked.

The man said nothing..

“We already know it was Kieran Nethys,” Elera said, stepping forward. Her voice shook a little, but with anger and not fear. “We have the financial trail. We have the communications. We just want to hear you say it.”

The mercenary glanced at his partner, then back at Drakonius. “Our contract is forfeit. We’re not paid to be captured.” He had a slight Eastern European accent. “The client wanted confirmation of terminal status. And, if the subject was still alive… to administer a neurotoxin which will be untraceable and it will mimics a

fatal stroke.”

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Chapter 188 To Kill A Dying Man

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A cold wave washed over Elera. She’d known, intellectually, that her father was capable. But hearing it, so bluntly… He’d given orders to murder a man in his sickbed. Her husband.

Drakonius’s expression didn’t change. He just nodded slowly. “Thank you for your honesty.” He looked at Frost. “Take them to the holding cells. Call our friends at the FBI. I think they’ll be very interested in two internationally wanted mercenaries and their attempted assassination plot. Offer them full cooperation in exchange for testifying against the man who hired them”

The mercenary’s eyes widened slightly. That wasn’t the outcome he’d expected. A bullet, maybe. A disappearance. Not a handover to federal agents with a deal.

As Frost’s men led them away, the room fell quiet again. The dummy in the bed looked absurd now.

Clara broke the silence. “So… we caught the bad guys. Your dad is super–duper guilty of attempted murder. What now? Do we, like, release the hounds? Unleash the USB drive? Call the cops while wearing really satisfying power suits?”

Elera looked at Drakonius. He looked back at her. The unspoken question hung between them. They had everything now. The financial crimes from Xan’s drive. The witness to attempted murder. The motive, the means. It was a slam dunk.

But it felt… procedural and cold. After everything, after the years of fear, the betrayals, the manipulations… handing it over to the authorities felt like letting someone else write the last chapter.

“No,” Elera said softly. Then, more firmly. “Not yet.”

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