The Wife He Never Meant to Love (Lila and Damon) novel Chapter 215

Chapter 215

Chapter 215

Daven stood motionless as the cabin collapsed into itself, the flames dying down into glowing embers. What once stood as a place of secrets was now nothing more than ash carried by the wind.

His gaze remained fixed on the ruins.

“Find the doctor,” Daven said coldly.

One of the men-clearly the leader of the hired group-didn’t move.

Instead, he looked at Daven.

A pause.

A mistake.

“Is there a problem?” Daven asked, his voice low, dangerous.

“Yes,” the man replied flatly. “We-the organization-do not touch that doctor.”

Silence fell over the group.

Daven’s expression didn’t change, but something darker settled behind his eyes. He didn’t like resistance. He didn’t like being told no-especially not by men who were supposed to follow his lead.

For a moment, it seemed like he would argue.

Then-

“Okay,” Daven said simply.

The man turned, as if the matter were settled.

A gunshot shattered the quiet.

The leader dropped instantly, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Shock rippled through the remaining men. No one moved.

Daven lowered the gun slowly, his gaze sweeping across them.

“This,” he said, voice calm but laced with menace, “is what happens to anyone who refuses to follow me.”

No one dared speak.

“The organization may be your backbone,” he continued, taking a step forward, “but it’s backing me.””

He let the words sink in.

“Now,” he added, his tone sharpening, “use whatever brains you have left… and find that damn doctor.”

Without another glance, Daven turned and walked away, leaving the body behind-and the message clear.

That night, the city lights flickered against the dark glass walls of Daven’s office.

Chester, his lawyer, sat across from him, composed but cautious.

“I don’t deal in cheap information,” Chester said. “This one cost you.”

Daven didn’t respond. He simply slid the payment across the table.

Three million.

Chester took it without hesitation.

“She’s moving against you,” he said. “Lila is preparing to challenge your acquisition of Bjorn Properties. Claims the shares were obtained illegally.”

A beat.

Daven leaned back, a faint smirk forming.

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“Dig deeper,” he muttered. “You’ll find nothing. Nada.”

His eyes darkened.

“You witch…”

The words slipped out under his breath, more venom than sound.

For a moment, silence filled the room again-but his mind had already drifted elsewhere.

To the past.

To humiliation.

He remembered Maddy’s voice-playful, persuasive-suggesting he make Lila his. Back then, it had seemed

like an easy victory.

Too easy.

He had cornered her.

Planned everything.

But before he could even lay a hand on her-

Damon had burst in.

The memory snapped sharp and vivid.

The blow.

The darkness.

And then-

Waking up the next day to his father’s fury.

The scolding.

The disappointment.

The humiliation that carved itself deep into his bones.

Daven’s jaw tightened.

That moment had never left him.

Never softened.

Never faded.

It had only grown into something colder.

Something patient.

He looked back at Chester, though his thoughts were far away.

“I want everything on her,” Daven said quietly. “Every move. Every ally.”

His voice dropped further.

“And Damon.”

The name lingered like a threat,

Daven’s gaze hardened, resolve settling in.

“They don’t get to walk away from that day.”

Not anymore.

He had waited long enough.

And this time-

He would make them both pay.

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The private chopper touched down at the mansion that night, its blades cutting through the silence as wind tore across the grounds.

Men moved quickly, lifting Damon with practiced care. Every motion was precise-controlled-urgent.

Lila stood nearby.

Mark stood beside her.

And something about her had changed.

The softness that once defined her was gone. The warmth had faded into something sharper-colder. What remained was presence. Authority.

Power.

The same aura Damon carried.

The kind that didn’t need to speak.

It made people submit.

“You return to the estate,” Mark said, his tone steady. “I’ll stay. I still have unfinished business here.”

Lila turned to him and smiled.

Not soft.

Not fragile.

Certain.

“Be safe,” she said quietly. “You have someone waiting for you.”

A brief pause as her gaze held his.

“I don’t want her to go through what I did… waiting for someone who might not come back.”

Mark didn’t reply, but something in his expression shifted.

Lila stepped into the chopper.

Moments later, it lifted into the night sky-rising steadily until it was swallowed by darkness.

From below, only a faint red dot remained.

A single light in the vast sky.

That light carried two people-

the very ones the organization needed to bring down Blackthorne.

Mark watched until even that red glow disappeared.

Then he turned.

Inside the mansion, the air felt different.

He made his way back to the study room, already preparing for what came next.

For who was coming next.

The screens flickered to life, one after another, casting a cold glow across the room.

Then they arrived.

Men who had worked with him before.

Men who had seen what he could do-not just through reports or screens, but firsthand.

They didn’t just respect him.

They trusted him.

The same way they trusted Damon.

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And they had sworn-without hesitation-that they would protect him, stand with him, and, if necessary, lay down their lives.

Mark glanced at them, a faint smirk forming.

“Alright, team,” he said casually. “Let’s keep things simple tonight.”

A few of them leaned in, listening.

“Try not to get yourselves killed.”

A beat.

“I’m not in the mood to bring flowers to anyone’s grave.”

Laughter spread across the room.

Low.

Knowing.

Because they understood what he meant.

It wasn’t a joke.

It was a warning.

Stay alive.

Mark’s expression hardened as he turned toward the glowing screens.

“Let’s get to work.”

And just like that-

the night began.

Daven stood still as the report came in.

“A private chopper landed in a secluded area…. and left shortly after,” his assistant said.

Daven’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Do we know who owns the property?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the assistant replied. “The man who landed there was Mark Everith.”

A pause.

“Mark…” Daven repeated, the name settling heavily in his mind.

He turned slowly, thoughts already moving.

Mark Everith owned property in Wago City-prime ground, well-hidden, and rarely disturbed. A man who kept a low profile, yet somehow remained untouchable.

Daven had been watching him.

For a long time.

He wanted Mark.

Not as an enemy-

but as an asset.

Because Daven knew one thing for certain: Mark was capable. More than capable.

A genius in computer systems and networks.

The kind of man who could access any information buried within a system-cleanly, efficiently, without leaving a trace.

A man like that…

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Belonged in Foster Technology.

Daven’s jaw tightened slightly.

The company his father built-

he intended to take it all.

And with someone like Mark under him, that goal would be inevitable.

But there was a problem.

The organization had warned him.

Stay away from Mark Everith.

No explanation.

No details.

Just a warning.

And Daven hated that more than anything.

Because despite all his resources-

he knew almost nothing about Mark’s true capabilities.

Only rumors.

Only fragments.

And that made him dangerous.

Daven exhaled slowly, then smirked.

“Let’s pay him a visit.”

Engines roared to life.

One car.

Then another.

Until a line of black vehicles tore through the streets of Wago City, cutting through the night like a blade.

People noticed.

They always did.

Because in Wago, a black convoy at this hour meant only one thing-

War.

Those who grew up in the city didn’t hesitate.

Lights went out.

Doors were locked.

The smaller gangs vanished into the shadows.

They knew better than to get involved.

This wasn’t their level.

This kind of conflict didn’t end in bruises or territory disputes,

It ended in power shifts.

In blood.

In silence.

Because whoever won this war-

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would become the next head of Wago City.

And everyone else?

They would have no choice but to accept it.

To obey.

To follow.

Because challenging the outcome didn’t mean rebellion-

It meant a grave.

Or worse-

disappearing completely.

-The convoy pushed forward, deeper into the night.

Toward Mark Everith.

And whatever waited for them there.

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