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Chapter 237
“You miserable punk, so eager to meet your maker- then do it on your own and quit dragging us down with you.”
Sophia’s uncle snarled, rage pumping through his veins, ready to swing at Alex without a second thought.
“You’ve got some nerve, Alex. The Kanes spared you out of sheer pity, and you still spew this crap? Are you that desperate to get yourself killed?”
Jack spat, contempt twisting his features.
They all saw Alex as an unhinged loudmouth.
Everyone had just settled their differences, so why the hell was he kicking the hornet’s nest again?
If he riled the Kanes, who would bear the brunt when they struck back?
Charles might bail them out once, but if Alex shattered that fragile truce, nobody would come to the rescue the next time.
They wanted nothing more than to bury Alex six feet under.
“Is it wrong to demand an apology from someone who attacked you? Am I out of line? Either way, can’t you see she’s already kneeling like she’s been practicing for it?”
Alex said, his tone flat yet dripping with scorn.
Bella broke into sobs at the tension in the air.
“Shut your damn mouth, Alex! You’re stirring up trouble and putting our heads on the chopping block!” Florence shouted, jumping to her feet, raw fear fueling her outburst.
“Alex, please, cut it out,” Sophia begged through trembling lips, cold sweat dripping down her spine.
She had never expected the man in front of her to fling such incendiary words when they were already on thin ice.
“Fine, I’ll stay quiet. It’s all on you now.”
Alex shrugged off their panic and stepped aside.
But unseen by everyone else, he flicked a tiny bottle to Vetala’s hand—a quick, silent movement.
Vetala nearly jolted in surprise, thinking it was a hidden weapon, but froze when he realized it held an antidote.
He glanced back at Alex, who subtly shook his head, telling him to conceal the gesture from the Lancasters.
“Miss Bella Kane, please get to your feet. He’s lost his mind, I swear. Don’t waste your time on that lunatic,” Florence pleaded, desperate to keep Bella’s anger at bay.
“Yes, absolutely! He’s completely lost it,” Jack chimed in, grinning obsequiously.
“He’s not even tied to the Lancasters anymore.”
After a brief exchange between Vetala and Bella, color returned to Bella’s face, and with help, she stood up.
“I’m… sorry. This is all my fault,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.
Then, without another word, they wheeled Bella out of the room–surrounded by guards and the ever–watchful Vetala.
Silence fell like a guillotine.
Florence and the others froze, their faces contorted in shock.
Had the pampered princess of the Kane family–the ruthless queen of Vancouver, the psychopath who crushed anyone she didn’t like–just apologized, again? 1
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Nobody could wrap their heads around it.
She not only forgave their offenses but also lowered herself to apologize in person, fresh off getting beat down
It defied all logic.
“What the hell’s in the Kanes‘ water today? Since when do they gravel?” someone whispered.
“Pinched myself twice—still not dreaming,” another muttered.
“Maybe Ms. Kane had a genuine epiphany?” a third offered.
“Bullshit. Don’t paint halos on devils,” came the reply.
The chatter spiraled, a hive of buzzing disbelief.
“Everyone, this has Charles Kingston’s fingerprints all over it,” Clara declared.
“I get it now! Charles, you pulled every string, didn’t you?” Florence probed, eyes shining.
“Right! How did we forget our secret weapon?” Jack blurted, finally catching up.
“No wonder the Kanes ate crow–Charles was the puppet master,” he crowed.
“Who else could strong–arm a dynasty but Mr. Kingston?” another agreed.
Stars practically glittered in every Lancaster gaze.
So the apology was nothing but Charles twisting arms in the shadows.
Exactly.
Had to be.
Charles watched it all, hatred fermenting.
He’d bet on Jessica and Jericho Kane tearing each other apart, planning to sucker–punch whoever crawled out alive and seize
Vancouver.
He hadn’t counted on Jasmine Kingston beating Jericho and locking Vermont under Kelly Kingston’s banner.
That orphan, dragged in by his father and grafted onto the family tree.
Charles, firstborn, was meant to rule Vancouver
or at least carve out a state of his own.
Yet the outsider sister stole the Kingston name and claimed Vermont.
Life’s scales never tipped his way.
Every move.these people made felt like a blade against him.
If Jasmine conquered Vermont, she should have traded it to him, the elder brother, in exchange for the Vancouver throne she’d hijacked.
Instead they plotted to exile him.
Darkness pooled in Charles’s heart.
“Drop the act, Charles–we all saw your handiwork. Without you, Ms. Kane would’ve left us in ashes,” Florenc washing her face.
aid, relief
“Absolutely! You steered us through the storm and dazzled the family. You’re our savior,” Jack gushed. “Thank you, Mr. Kingston! You saved every last one of us!” the Lancasters chorused, hands thrust out in gratitude.
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“Uh- “Charles nodded, eager to claim the credit, certain Alex understood but unwilling to spare him an ounce of praise.
“Don’t be modest, Charles. Without you we’d be rubble,” Jack kep piling it on.
“Truly, it was nothing,” Charles replied, flashing a polished grin at begged for applause.
“You lucked out, Alex! I thought you’d be roadkill by now. Quit standing there–bow to Charles and thank him!” Florence barked, her glare slicing toward Alex.
“Bow to him? For what?” Alex drawled, disdain curling at the edge of his lips.
With a shadow overtaking his face, Charles spoke coldly, voice laced with venom, “Let’s not waste another second on that ungrateful bastard, Mrs. Lancaster. What matters now is the promise you swore that once I cleaned up this mess Alex caused, the Kane, you’d give me Sophia’s hand in marriage. I upheld my enl. Now, I expect you to honor yours.”
Mrs. Lancaster’s eyes lit up as she quickly nodded with enthusiasm her voice sickeningly sweet, “Of course, Charles, of course! A promise is a promise.”
But across the room, Alex and Sophia stood frozen–staring in stunned disbelief, the world spinning too fast to catch.
They couldn’t even process what they’d just heard.
Yet Charles coldly smiled.
“You call me broken? I was whole once. Gentle. True. I followed the rules.
Then they gave everything I bled for to someone untouched by pain.
That’s when I learned: goodness buys nothing.
So I stopped waiting. Stopped pleading.
I became the monster they feared–because monsters don’t ask.”
