The Heiress He Underestimated novel Chapter 191

Chapter 191 Twenty–four Hours

Elera’s hand flew to her mouth. A cold, sharp shock shot through her, followed by a wave of nauseating rage. “No,” she whispered.

On screen, Kieran moved back into frame, standing behind Margaret. He placed a hand on her shoulder, a grotesque parody of a comforting gesture. Margaret flinched.

“Your sweet aunt decided to pick the wrong side,” Kieran said, his voice conversational. “A mistake. But family is family, and I’m willing to be… magnanimous. Again.”

He looked directly into the camera, his eyes burning. “Here are my terms. You will sign over all the controlling interest of Nethys Medical, Celestine, and your publishing rights as Raven Shadowmere to me. You and your husband will hold a joint press conference You will confess, in detail, to fabricating all the so- called evidence against me. You will state it was a campaign of revenge for my disapproval of your marriage. You will take full responsibility. You will destroy your own credibility to save mine.”

He paused, letting the monstrousness of it sink in. “Once the transfers are verified and the press conference is broadcast, Margaret will be released and unharmed. She can go back to her painting and her teacups.”

He leaned closer to the lens, his face filling the screen. The crazed intensity in his eyes was terrifying. “If you refuse, if you contact the authorities, if you try anything clever… your aunt dies in a tragic accident. A gas leak in her home. A fall down the stairs. So sad. These things happen to elderly ladies living alone.”

He straightened up, adjusting his cuff. The mundane gesture was more chilling than any shout. “You have twenty–four hours. Instructions for the document transfers will follow this message. Do not disappoint me, Elera. Or you’ll be arranging a funeral instead of a press conference.”

The screen went black.

The silence in the war room was absolute and heavy. It was broken by the sound of Clara slowly, carefully, putting her game piece down on the board.

“Okay,” she said, her voice squeaky. “So. He’s officially lost his mind. That’s… that’s a new level.”

Elera was trembling. The clinical part of her brain, the Dr. Mystral part, was analyzing: He’s desperate and he’s isolated. He’s making emotional, high–risk moves. This is a sign of weakness. But the rest of her, the part that was a niece, the part that had seen the fear in Margaret’s eyes, was screaming.

Drakonius reached over and took her hand. His grip was firm, grounding. “Breathe,” he said quietly. “We have twenty–four hours.”

“He has Aunt Margaret,” Elera said, her voice hollow. “He’ll kill her. He will. He’s not bluffing. Not anymore.”

“We know,” Frost said. He was already typing rapidly on a console, pulling up maps, traffic cams, and signal data from the video’s metadata. “The video was uploaded seventeen minutes ago from a mobile hotspot in the city. The background is generic. We’ll trace the materials–the chair, the duct tape brand, the carpet fibers. It’s a start.”

“He wants me to destroy myself,” Elera said, the reality of it settling like ice in her veins. “He wants me to give him everything I’ve built and then stand in front of the world and call myself a liar. He wants to own me. Completely.”

“Yeah, well, he can want in one hand and spit in the other, see which fills up first,” Clara muttered, but her usual bravado was thin. She looked genuinely scared. “What do we do? We can’t give him what he wants.”

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16:25 Tue, Apr 140

Chapter 191 Twenty–four Hours

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Finished

“No,” Drakonius said, his voice like iron. “We can’t. If you sign those companies over, he’ll drain them and discard them. He’ll use the press conference to bury you forever. And then he’ll kill Margaret anyway, because she’s a witness. He’s not leaving loose ends.”

Elera knew he was right. It was a suicide pact. A guarantee of total defeat.

“So we find her,” she said, forcing strength into her voice. “We find her before the twenty–four hours are up.‘

“Working on it,” Frost said, not looking up from his screens. “The mercenaries we have in custody might know something about his backup plans, safe houses. I’ll make them talk.”

“Gently!” Clara added. “But firmly. With an aura of impending doom.”

“I’ll question them,” Frost said, which was probably not what Clara meant by ‘gently.‘

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