“If you want to die—”
“I can arrange that for you.”
The voice hit the room like an icy blade.
Sarah Lacy’s eyes flew open.
At the doorway stood Matthew Powell, holding their daughter in one arm—yet radiating a killing intent so fierce it felt like the air itself froze. His gaze was cold as ancient permafrost, devoid of even a trace of mercy.
Paul Lacy jerked around, terror jolting through him.
He stumbled backward—three full steps in panic.
“Y-You… don’t do anything stupid! This is the company! If you dare lay a hand on—”
SLAP!
BOOM!
Matthew moved.
One step.
One strike.
One explosion of sound.
His palm cracked across Paul’s face with such force that Paul flew two meters through the air, crashing into the desk. Blood and teeth sprayed across the polished surface.
Matthew didn
