The VIP ward of the hospital.

Elora lay motionless on the hospital bed.

Multiple fractures. Internal bleeding. It was remarkable that she had survived.

It had been a full week. Rodger hadn't shown his face even once.

She scrolled through the photos and videos sent by her subordinates. While she lay unconscious, gravely injured, Rodger had been wrapped up with Lilah—lost in pleasure, indulging in passion, utterly oblivious to the world.

Pain tore through her chest.

Her head throbbed in sync with the pain.

Just then, her phone rang.

It was the Dale family's landline.

For no reason at all, Elora's heart clenched. She answered immediately.

"Miss! Something terrible has happened!"

The housekeeper's voice came through, mixed with gunfire and screams.

"The Griffiths suddenly smashed several of our operations! Right now, right now their men have surrounded our main compound! They're calling for an all-out war!"

Elora's heart sank.

"On what grounds?"

"Rodger says… says we kidnapped his son, Drake! He said if we don't hand the boy over, he will take severe action against the Dale family!"

"That's bullshit!"

Elora's vision darkened with rage.

"Miss, please think of something! The Master is overseas, the household is in chaos, and they came fully prepared! Mr. Dale has already been involved in the conflict. We can't hold them off much longer!"

A sharp pain tore through her wounds. Elora broke into violent coughing, a bitter taste rose in her throat.

"Hold the line. I'm coming back. Now," she said through clenched teeth. Hanging up, she ripped the IV from the back of her hand, grabbed her coat, and stormed out.

Rodger was trying to annihilate her completely.

He had already killed Franny. Now he wanted to destroy her entire family.

Fine.

If that was how he wanted it, then this would end in blood.

The taxi screeched to a stop.

Outside the Dale family estate, black sedans packed the area so tightly there wasn't an inch of space left.

Men of her family were being forced back step by step. Many were wounded, and several lay motionless on the ground, their fates unclear.

At the very center stood Rodger, dressed in a black overcoat, his expression cold and severe.

He held Lilah tightly in his arms, who was crying so hard she looked on the verge of fainting.

"Rodger… if anything happens to our son, I won't live either…"

The moment Elora appeared, every gaze snapped toward her.

Rodger's hawk-sharp eyes locked onto her.

"Elora! Finally dare show your face? Hand over my son!"

She looked at the man who seemed ready to tear her apart and felt nothing but bleak irony.

This was the man she had once loved with her whole heart, someone who now showed not a shred of trust toward her or her family.

She sneered, "Rodger, have you lost your mind? You think I kidnapped your son? I don't even know where he is."

"Still playing dumb?" Rodger cut her off sharply.

"Who else but you would dare touch my son? Lilah heard it herself—the mercenaries were on the phone with a Miss Dale when they took Drake!"

Elora laughed in anger. She didn't bother arguing further and prepared to confront him directly.

If Rodger wanted to play, she would make it his last game.

At that moment, one of Rodger's men hurried over and whispered, "Mr. Griffiths, we've got Hugh Dale."

Cold flashed in Rodger's eyes.

"So that's how you want to do this, Elora? You won't give me my son?"

He raised his hand and ordered, "Bring him over."

Moments later, Hugh was shoved forward, his hands bound behind his back.

His face was bruised and swollen, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

When he saw Elora, he shouted urgently, "Elora! Don't worry about me! This is a setup—we never—"

Before he could finish, a thug smashed a baton into the back of his knee.

Hugh was forced down, enduring the pain in silence.

"Hugh!"

Elora's heart nearly stopped. She tried to rush forward but was blocked by a wall of men.

Two burly guards grabbed her shoulders, wrenching her wounds open. She could feel her wounds reopening.

She inhaled sharply and murmured to the housekeeper, "Don't move. Not yet."

Rodger looked down at the kneeling Hugh, then at the battered Elora. His voice was glacial.

"Elora, this is your last chance. Bring my son back—alive and unharmed—and I might consider leaving Hugh intact. Otherwise... "

He paused. "I will ensure Hugh faces serious consequences right here until you cooperate."

Lilah sobbed even harder, "Please… the child is innocent!"

Elora ground her teeth, "Rodger, use that pig brain of yours! I just crawled out of the hospital. You really think I was in any shape to kidnap your precious bastard?"

"Still won't admit it?"

Rodger's gaze hardened. He raised his hand and struck her.

"Do you really think you're still my precious Mrs. Griffiths? Wake up."

The blow was forceful. Elora staggered, feeling a sharp sting on her face.

Her vision blurred. She nearly lost her footing, held back only by the men restraining her.

"Elora!" Hugh roared. "Rodger, you animal! Come at me if you've got the guts!"

Rodger didn't even spare him a glance. His eyes stayed fixed on Elora as he curled his lips into a smile.

"Come at you? Of course I will. After all, if your sister won't tell the truth, you're the one who suffers."

He tipped his chin toward the thug holding a knife and ordered, "Take him away."

"No! Rodger, you wouldn't dare!"

Elora struggled like a madwoman, eyes splitting with fury.

But she was badly injured and tightly restrained, completely powerless.

The situation grew tense.

Just then, a man came tumbling in, panic-stricken as he shouted, "Mr. Griffiths! Something's wrong—big trouble!"

Rodger barked impatiently, "What are you panicking for? Can't you see I'm handling something?"

The man dropped to his knees and continued, "Mr. Griffiths! We just got word—our most important supplier, Mr. Calder from Ravencrest… He's unilaterally cut off all weapons shipments to us! And our two biggest strongholds in the south and the docks were just wiped out!"

Rodger's pupils shrank, shock flooded his face.

At those words, Elora, slumped weakly, stirred. She rasped, "Now. Detonate."

The moment her words fell, a sudden, loud disturbance erupted.

Chaos ensued.

Rodger barely had time to react before he and his men were caught in the ensuing turmoil.

Elora stared blankly at the scene of human hell before her. Her tightly wound nerves finally snapped, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

She didn't know how long she had been in the hospital before she slowly woke again.

Her wounds had been treated, but far from healed. Each breath sent sharp tugs through her injuries.

As her consciousness cleared, the image of Hugh's brutal death surged into her mind.

Her heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, and the pain made it almost impossible to breathe.

Tears streamed uncontrollably, soaking her pillow.

Hugh—her only brother—was gone.

Just as her daughter Franny had died before her eyes, now her brother was gone too.

All of this was Rodger's doing. And his mistress's.

A tidal wave of fury swept through Elora, just as the sounds of smashing and shouting echoed from the VIP ward next door.

"Useless! Worthless! Can't even contact Mr. Calder! Don't you know how to find another way?! Are you Griffiths' lackeys just here to eat?!"

The shouting was followed by a harsh, relentless coughing, clearly someone badly injured.

Elora instantly recognized the voice. It was Rodger.

The coughing subsided, and a subordinate's panicked voice reported, "Mr. Griffiths… it's not that we didn't try… Mr. Calder's stance is absolute. All other suppliers either flat-out refused or raised prices threefold. We're bleeding at the docks and the south… we're running out of cash, and we can barely cover the injured."

"Enough!" Rodger snapped, his voice harsh, followed by another violent bout of coughing. "Where's Lilah? Any news on Drake? Where is he?"

The subordinate trembled again. "Miss Phillips is resting after being startled. Drake is already home… just playing house with his kindergarten friends."

The ward fell deathly silent.

Seconds later, Rodger's roar shattered the air—frenzied, furious, humiliated.

"Playing house?!"

Bang!

A glass smashed against the wall.

"Lilah… she told me… she said…"

Rodger couldn't even finish.

What could he say?

That Lilah, crying her heart out, had sworn their son was kidnapped by Elora?

That he had been completely led by the nose, using her tears as an excuse to deal a lethal blow to the Dale family, and to please her?

He had made himself a perfect fool, completely outplayed by a woman.

He had killed Elora's only brother!

There was no chance between him and Elora.

And between him and the Dale family, it had become an unbreakable blood feud.

No room for compromise remained.

"Ah!!!" Rodger screamed, heart-wrenching and raw.

Regret consumed him!

On the other side of the wall, Elora bit her lip hard.

Just because Lilah whispered a half-truth, just because a child playing house went missing, Rodger immediately assumed it was the Dales who had kidnapped his son.

Not only did he storm in, he… in front of her, brutally murdered her only brother, Hugh!

Tears surged silently down her face.

Rodger. Lilah.

One gullible enough to believe lies, the other cunning enough to fan the flames.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Elora filed it all away—every lie, every betrayal.

The next day.

Elora forced herself to get out of bed.

She changed out of her hospital gown and stood by the window.

Her family was here, but Ravencrest was her true battlefield, her real base.

She controlled the underworld arms network of the Northvale. And she was also the one known on the streets as the feared and untouchable "Mr. Calder," whom countless people still scrambled to curry favor with.

A gentle knock sounded at the door. Elora's aide stepped in silently, bowing respectfully, "Miss, the car to the airport is ready. Everything on the Ravencrest front is set."

Elora slowly turned and accepted an antique sandalwood box from her aide.

She opened it to reveal a dark iron ring, resting quietly inside.

This was Mr. Calder's token— a symbol of absolute authority over Northvale's underground arms.

She slid the ring onto her slender finger. A perfect fit.

"Let's go."

From the moment the ring adorned her hand, she was Mr. Calder.

Accompanied by her aide, Elora stepped into the elevator. At the same time, the elevator doors on the other side opened.

Rodger emerged in a wheelchair, pushed by his men, making his way to the reception desk.

"Excuse me, Elora Dale? Which room is she in? I'd like to see her."

Regret weighed heavily on him.

Even knowing she would never forgive him, he owed her that apology.

He had to beg her, appealing to the years they had shared as husband and wife, to help the Griffiths family in their desperate hour.

The receptionist lowered her head to check the records.

Outside the hospital, the convoy waited.

Elora took her seat in the center of the armored car.

The window rose slowly, cutting her off from the world.

The car glided smoothly toward the airport.

At this moment, the wheels of fate turned mercilessly.

One carried delayed remorse toward an inevitably empty hospital room.

The other, a heart full of vengeance, stepped onto the path of ruthless retribution.

The distance between them was no more than a corner away.

Yet it felt like worlds apart.

The plane roared into the sky, heading for Ravencrest.

Elora leaned back, closing her eyes.

Rodger, the game was only just beginning.