----Axhel Rhodes POV----
Axhel Rhodes, pale and sweating, was struggling to have his tuxedo jacket fitted by a nervous aide. Bandages still heavily encased his torso, restricting his movents to agonizing, slow shifts. The recent surgeries had left him weak, but the humiliation burned hotter than any infection.
A trusted subordinate, Agent R1, entered the room and stood at attention.
"Report, R1," Axhel managed, his voice strained.
"Sir, I have confird intelligence," R1 said, keeping his voice low. "Blake is here."
Axhel froze, then let out a guttural curse. "That son of a bitch! Where? How did he get past the periter?"
"He entered with Congressman Thompson, sir," R1 reported.
"That lying piece of political filth!" Axhel roared, driving his fist into a nearby Ming vase. The pottery shattered, and the abrupt, violent movent tore at his healing wounds.
"Agh!" Axhel cried out as blood instantly blood through the freshly changed bandages on his chest.
A frantic doctor and two nurses rushed in.
"Mr. Rhodes, calm down! You’re going to reopen your sutures!" the doctor pleaded, grabbing his arms.
"Get out!" Axhel snarled, shoving them away. "All of you! Get the hell out! Now!"
They scrambled out, leaving Axhel breathing heavily, leaning against the wall, slick with sweat and fresh blood. Only R1 remained.
"Are you absolutely certain of this?" Axhel demanded.
"Yes, sir. I confird it personally," R1 said. "He entered minutes ago. Thompson presented him to the entry guards as a ’key investor,’ Mr. Blake."
"This is sh*t... now I’m truly screwed," Axhel muttered, his face contorted in pain and fear.
The idiot. Axhel knew exactly why Thompson was treating this "Mr. Blake" with such deference. Celestial Garden was having major issues with him. By directly supporting Congressman Vance, Axhel had taken a side against the political grain, which directly contravened Celestial’s strategy of always supporting the eventual winner.
Axhel had made a colossal mistake, and he was paying for it. He had been given an ultimatum: either he quickly ingratiated himself with Thompson and secured the governorship for him, or his own head would be sent to Thompson as a peace offering and the final nail in Axhel’s coffin. To make matters worse, Ross Bailey—a ruthless enforcer from the Central Division—was already in the mansion, personally supervising the event while Axhel was incapacitated.
"R1, find out where Bailey is. If Bailey find him before I get to kill Blake, I’m already dead," Axhel whispered.
Ethan Blake POV
Ethan continued his leisurely stroll through the magnificent hall. He took a flute of champagne, sampled so caviar, and maintained an imposing presence, as if judging the entire event as grossly insufficient.
He was waiting.
As he reached a large, empty area near a grand staircase, two n in dark, well-fitted suits approached him. They were discreet, trying to blend with the security personnel, but Ethan’s threat Perception easily identified the weight of the concealed weapons they carried.
Ethan didn’t flinch. He ntally prepared for a lightning-fast assassination, waiting for the inevitable command.
"Mr. Blake?" the lead guard asked, his voice low. "Sir, if you would accompany us. Soone important would like to et with you."
Ethan smiled, a sharp, cold expression that didn’t reach his eyes. "Of course. Of course," Ethan said. "It was only a matter of ti. I was starting to think you people were slow."
This was exactly the point, Ethan thought. His overly noticeable, arrogant deanor was designed to draw out the most important figures instantly. He wanted them to know he was here.
Before leaving the main hall, Ethan turned and approached Congressman Thompson, who was engaged in a self-congratulatory conversation with the State Attorney General.
"Congressman," Ethan said, interrupting their conversation with barely contained impatience. "I’m going to visit an old friend. Entertain yourself for a while."
Thompson imdiately dropped his political facade, his voice lowering with genuine concern. "Of course, Mr. Blake. If you need anything at all—anything—let know imdiately."
"I will," Ethan said, giving a curt nod. He turned and followed the two guards.
The guards led him through a discreet side door and down a heavily paneled corridor, finally stopping at a reinforced door at the end of the hall. This was not a eting place; it was an interrogation or execution room.
Axhel Rhodes POV
Axhel Rhodes was leaning against the wall in the sterile room, gripping his bandaged side, waiting for Blake. He had planned to have his elite guards ambush Blake the mont he stepped through the door. Surprise, shock, and overwhelming force.
Suddenly, the door burst open, and Agent R1 rushed in, frantic.
"Sir! Cancel the imdiate order! Cancel the ambush now!" R1 shouted, his eyes wide.
Axhel winced from the noise. "What are you talking about, R1? He’s monts away! Execute the plan!"
"No, sir! Blake just spoke to Thompson! He warned the Congressman he was coming back here, and he gave Thompson a direct command! If anything happens to Blake while he’s inside this compound, Thompson’s going to blow the whole operation wide open! He’ll sabotage everything! It will all be ruined, sir!"
Axhel cursed under his breath, punching the wall weakly with his uninjured hand, reopening his wounds further. The fear of failure—and the fear of Ross Bailey who was now supervising the mission—was a crippling weight.
"Get out!" Axhel spat, waving his hand toward the guards waiting in ambush positions. "All of you, clear the room! Now! I want no weapons or personnel in here, except R1! Get out!"
The guards scrambled, realizing their imdiate assassination plan had been compromised. Axhel cursed again, staring at the door. His brilliant plan to neutralize the threat was now turned against him. His initial idea was to ambush Blake the mont he entered and kill him instantly, but now the situation was completely stacked against him.
Ethan Blake POV
The two guards opened the reinforced door and ushered Ethan into the room. He walked in, taking in the sparse, non-decorative surroundings. He imdiately spotted the pale, wounded man leaning against the far wall—Axhel Rhodes.
"Rhodes," Ethan said, his voice cold, devoid of surprise. "You look like hell."
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