QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 309: Humiliation

Chapter 310

Daphne

"Ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!"

I fall to the floor in laughter, clutching my stomach, tears streaming down my face. I haven’t laughed like this in...I don’t even know how long. Possibly centuries.

Apparently, Vincent was robbed last night.

Robbed.

Not his n, not his operations, not a shipnt intercepted—him. Personally. In his own ho. While he was out throwing a tantrum over Elliot ignoring his calls.

Soone broke into his penthouse, bypassed his security, and cleaned him out. Cash, jewelry, weapons, docunts—the kind of docunts you don’t want falling into the wrong hands.

You can’t make this shit up.

Is this the big bad mafia? The terror of the underworld? The Viper who’s supposed to be one of the most powerful Alphas in the city?

Robbed.

Like a tourist who left their wallet on the beach.

[He’s trying to stop the news from spreading.]

I lose it again.

"OH MY GOD." I’m howling now, rolling on the floor of my room, not caring who hears.

I finally calm down enough to sit up, leaning against my bed, a stupid grin still plastered on my face.

"So Vincent is being haunted by a ghost that may or may not be , his empire is crumbling, his Oga is ignoring him, and now he’s been robbed in his own ho."

[Correct.]

"And he’s trying to cover it up."

[Desperately.]

I stand, stretching, a new energy coursing through .

"Yeah, I’ll let that happen."

***

Vincent

"...have finally caught the notorious oga criminal at the border trying to flee the country. She has ti and ti again eluded authorities, targeting wealthy Alphas in their own hos. The list of victims includes—"

The television drones on, but I’m not listening anymore.

I’m staring.

At my face.

Plastered on the screen among the other dumb Alphas that bitch robbed. All the security feeds they compiled,blurred faces of victims, carefully edited to protect identities—except sohow, sohow, there I am. Clear as day. Full view.

Everyone who knows can recognize .

Everyone.

I was trying to keep this quiet. Contain it. Bury it before it could spread.

And now this.

This—

This—

The world goes black.

*

I wake up to beeping.

Machines. Fluorescent lights. The sll of antiseptic.

And a fucking needle in my arm.

"Boss! Thank God, you’re awake—"

Luca. Hovering like a nervous fly. I try to sit up, but sothing holds back—tubes, wires, restraints.

"Boss, don’t disconnect it. You passed out. High blood pressure. And hunger. And stress. The doctor said—"

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

The glass of water on the bedside table is in my hand before I fully register picking it up. It flies across the room and shatters against his face with a satisfying crack.

Luca staggers back, blood mixing with water, eyes wide with shock and fear.

Good. Let him be afraid.

"Get. . Out. Of. Here." Each word is a bullet.

"Boss, the doctors—"

"I don’t give a fuck about the doctors! Get out of this hospital before every news crew in the city finds out I’m here!"

Luca nods frantically, already on his phone, blood dripping down his cheek. I rip the IV out of my arm, not flinching at the pain, and swing my legs off the bed.

The room spins. I grip the edge of the mattress until it passes.

When I look up, there’s a nurse in the doorway, face pale, eyes wide.

"Sir, you really shouldn’t—"

"Get out."

She gets out.

I find my clothes in a cabinet, dress with shaking hands, and walk out of the room like I own the place. Like I wasn’t just hooked up to machines. Like my face isn’t on every screen in the city.

Luca catches up in the hallway, phone still pressed to his ear.

"Car’s waiting, boss. Back entrance."

"Good."

The second we step outside, the world explodes.

Caras. So many caras. Flashing, blinding, everywhere. Microphones thrust toward my face like weapons. Reporters shouting over each other, a wall of noise and light and fucking vultures.

"How do you feel now that she’s been caught?!"

"Is it true you’re in the hospital because you couldn’t handle the stress?!"

"Vincent! Vincent! Over here! Any comnt on the robbery?"

"Sources say you passed out from panic—is that accurate?"

Luca tries to shield , but there are too many of them. They swarm like locusts, pressing closer, their questions getting louder, more personal, more humiliating.

"Did you know the other victims?!"

My vision tunnels. The flashes blur into one continuous white light. The noise becos a roar, then a buzz, then nothing.

I’m moving. Shoving. Pushing through the crowd with elbows and shoulders and the sheer force of rage. Luca shouts sothing behind , but I don’t hear it. Don’t care.

I reach the car. Yank open the door. Throw myself inside.

"DRIVE!" I roar at the driver. "DRIVE NOW!"

The tires screech. The crowd scatters. We peel away from the hospital, leaving the caras and the questions and my humiliation in the dust.

The ride is silent except for my breathing—harsh, ragged, uncontrolled. Luca doesn’t speak. The driver doesn’t speak. They know better.

I stare out the window at the city blurring past and see nothing but my own reflection. Pale. Wild-eyed. Weak.

They saw like this. All of them. The whole city.

My hands are shaking. I press them flat against my thighs to make it stop.

It doesn’t stop.

Back at my safe house—not the penthouse, never going back there—I pace like a caged animal. Luca hovers near the door, ready to flee at the first sign of violence.

I don’t bla him. I might kill him anyway.

"Find her." My voice is low, controlled, dangerous. "The oga who robbed . Find out where they’re holding her. Who’s talking to her. What she’s saying."

"Boss, she’s in federal custody. We can’t—"

"I don’t care if she’s in the goddamn Vatican! Find a way! Bribes, threats, whatever it takes. I want to know everything she knows. Who hired her. Who sent her."

Luca nods, already backing toward the door. "On it, boss."