Chapter 003
1456 Words
Jake’s body moved almost on instinct.
The surge of power from the Innate Realm, the overwhelming return of control over his own fate, and the suppressed rage of two years—all fused together into something volatile and difficult to contain.
He forced Vivian Hawthorne down onto the sofa, pinning her wrists tightly. In one swift motion, he tore off his shirt and used it to bind her hands together, securing them with a firmness that left no room for resistance.
“Let go of me, you insolent—”
Her words were cut short.
Jake silenced her, preventing her from shouting, leaving her voice reduced to muffled protests.
For the first time in years, Vivian struggled.
Not with calculated control, not with composed authority—but with raw, instinctive resistance.
And yet—
it was useless.
The strength she had always dismissed, the weakness she had always mocked, had vanished.
In its place stood someone entirely different.
Someone she could not overpower.
Someone she could not predict.
Her body tensed, then strained, but Jake’s grip did not yield.
What followed was no longer about control in the conventional sense—it was the collision of suppressed emotions, power imbalance, and long-standing resentment finally erupting into an irreversible act.
The tension, the humiliation, the fury—everything that had accumulated over two years—was released in a single, uncontrollable outburst.
Jake was no longer thinking.
There was no restraint, no hesitation.
Only instinct.
Only release.
Vivian’s resistance gradually weakened.
Not because she accepted it.
But because the situation had already gone beyond her ability to control.
Time seemed to stretch.
Then collapse.
And eventually—
it ended.
Jake exhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling as the storm inside him finally subsided.
For the first time since regaining consciousness, his mind began to clear.
Vivian lay against the sofa, her breathing uneven, her strength drained. Her eyes, once cold and commanding, now carried a complex mixture of shock, anger, and something she refused to acknowledge.
When she finally regained enough clarity, her voice came out sharp, laced with fury.
“Get off me.”
Her composure returned quickly—but beneath it, something had undeniably shifted.
Jake stepped back.
Silence filled the room for a moment.
The air felt different now.
He lowered his gaze slightly, as if evaluating everything that had just happened. The rage that had once burned uncontrollably was now… gone.
In its place remained something colder.
More deliberate.
More dangerous.
“I won’t kill you,” he said calmly.
Vivian’s eyes narrowed.
Jake continued, his tone steady, almost detached.
“That would be too easy.”
He paused briefly before adding:
“You’re still my godmother, after all.”
The irony in his voice was unmistakable.
“What you and your daughter did to me—every humiliation, every injury—I will repay it. But not with something as simple as death.”
Vivian’s expression hardened.
“You think you’ve won?” she said coldly. “You think this changes anything?”
Jake ignored the question.
“I’m giving you one week,” he said. “Hand over Stellar Apex Group. It was never yours to begin with.”
His voice dropped slightly.
“And if I find out that my parents’ deaths had anything to do with you…”
A brief pause.
“I won’t hesitate next time.”
The room fell silent again.
Then Vivian laughed.
Not lightly.
Not mockingly.
But with cold, cutting disdain.
“You’re threatening me?”
Her gaze sharpened like a blade.
“You want the company back? You won’t even live to see tomorrow.”
Jake turned away, picking up his clothes and putting them on with unhurried movements.
“Then try,” he said simply.
Without another word, he walked out.
The door closed behind him.
And only then—
did Vivian allow the full weight of what had happened to surface.
Her body bore marks—evidence of the confrontation, undeniable and impossible to ignore. Pain lingered, sharp and persistent, grounding her in reality.
Her fingers tightened.
For twenty years—
no one had ever crossed that line.
No one had ever dared.
And now—
it had happened.
To her.
A flicker of something complex passed through her expression—something she immediately suppressed.
What remained was pure, unfiltered intent.
“Killing you would have been unnecessary before,” she said quietly to herself. “But now…”
Her eyes turned cold.
“You’ve chosen your own end.”
She reached for her phone.
The first call went to Elena Hawthorne.
“He’s alive,” Vivian said.
There was a brief pause on the other end.
Then Elena’s voice came through, filled with irritation.
“That blind piece of trash really is hard to kill.”
Vivian frowned slightly.
Something felt… off.
“He’s changed,” she said slowly. “I can’t explain it. He’s not the same person anymore.”
Elena scoffed.
“What difference does it make? He’s still just a blind cripple.”
Vivian did not respond immediately.
Because for the first time—
she wasn’t entirely sure that was true.
“Stay at school,” she said finally. “Don’t come back. I’ll handle this.”
She ended the call before Elena could argue.
Then she dialed another number.
Helen Ward.
The line connected quickly.
“Madam?” Helen’s voice carried a hint of unease.
“He’s alive,” Vivian said flatly.
Silence.
Then—
“I want him dead.”
No hesitation this time.
No reservations.
Helen hesitated briefly. “But… you previously—”
“I’ve changed my mind,” Vivian interrupted coldly. “Find him. Kill him. Bring me proof.”
Her tone left no room for discussion.
“Understood.”
The call ended.
Vivian lowered the phone slowly, her gaze distant.
This time—
there would be no mistakes.
Meanwhile, Jake had already left the villa.
His destination was clear.
Pegasus Cemetery.
For two years, he had been trapped, unable to even visit the graves of his parents.
Now—
he finally could.
The cemetery stood on elevated ground, overlooking the outskirts of Larkspur City. It was a place reserved for the wealthy and influential—a final resting ground that symbolized status even in death.
As Jake approached the grave, he noticed something unexpected.
Fresh flowers.
Offerings.
Someone had been here.
He frowned slightly.
“Who would come?”
He had no close relatives in the city.
The Hawthorne Family would never come.
And the Whitmore Family…
His expression darkened.
Once, Victor Whitmore had been his father’s sworn brother. They had built their businesses together, shared ambitions, endured hardships.
But when Victor’s ventures failed, accumulating massive debt, it was Jake’s father who stepped in—clearing the liabilities, helping him rebuild from nothing.
Eventually, Victor recovered, even prospered.
To repay that debt, he proposed a marriage alliance—his daughter, Adrian Whitmore, betrothed to Jake since childhood.
But after the accident—
after Jake’s family collapsed—
everything changed.
The engagement was canceled.
The relationship severed.
No hesitation.
No loyalty.
Jake knelt slowly before the grave.
“Dad… Mom…”
His voice trembled slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“For two years… I couldn’t come see you.”
Tears slid down his face, unrestrained.
“But I swear… I will find out the truth behind your accident.”
“And if someone was responsible—”
His voice hardened.
“I will make them pay.”
“The Hawthorne Family… the Whitmore Family…”
“I won’t let any of them go.”
A voice interrupted from behind.
“Big words for someone who doesn’t know his place.”
Jake turned.
Three figures stood nearby.
An elderly man.
A middle-aged man.
And a young woman—elegant, confident, her presence sharp with arrogance.
It was Sophia Montgomery.
“Who are you?” Jake asked calmly.
Sophia smiled faintly, her gaze filled with disdain.
“That’s none of your concern. But if I’m not mistaken… you’re Vivian Hawthorne’s adopted son, aren’t you?”
Jake’s expression didn’t change.
“And?”
“I just find it amusing,” she said lightly. “Someone like you… making threats in front of the dead.”
Before Jake could respond, the older man—Charles Montgomery—spoke.
“Sophia,” he said sternly. “That’s enough.”
He turned to Jake with a polite nod.
“My apologies. She can be… overly direct.”
Jake studied him briefly.
Then his gaze shifted to the man beside him.
Sharp eyes.
Steady breathing.
Subtle tension in the muscles.
A trained fighter.
Not ordinary.
Jake’s instincts sharpened slightly.
Something told him—
this encounter was not a coincidence.
- Writer
