Chapter 245
Roland Graves and his men encircled Benjamin, suspended precariously above the water. Their eyes darted nervously toward Nathaniel Blackwood, filled with palpable dread.
Roland’s knife shook visibly in his unsteady grip. He swallowed hard, forcing out the words. “Boss Blackwood… I apologize for the disrespect. But you must see—we had no other option!”
“Time’s up.” Nathaniel’s mouth curved into a cold, faint smile.
Confusion flickered across the men’s faces—but it was too late. Nathaniel had already drawn a sleek, matte-black firearm from inside his tailored suit.
He raised it, aiming directly between Roland Graves’s eyes.
Roland’s gaze sharpened. He lifted the blade, ready to sever the rope. He was certain—Boss Blackwood would hesitate. He wouldn’t risk it.
Bang.
Nathaniel pulled the trigger.
Before the knife could even touch the rope, the bullet tore through Roland’s forehead. Blood sprayed.
Such impossible speed. It was over in less than a breath. He’d been stopped the instant he moved.
Roland’s body convulsed violently. The knife slipped from his fingers, vanishing into the dark lake below as he collapsed backward.
“Boss Graves!”
His remaining men scrambled to catch him. Thoughts of the promised five million vanished. Survival was all that mattered now. They dropped to their knees, begging.
“Forgive us, Boss Blackwood! We were wrong! This—this man is yours! Take him!”
They bowed low, dragging Roland’s body as they scrambled away, desperate to escape.
Nathaniel paid them no further mind. He tucked the weapon away and strode toward Benjamin. With a sharp tug, he loosened the knot securing the rope to the tree. Benjamin dropped heavily onto the grass.
Benjamin stared up, stunned. The man before him moved with lethal grace. Every gesture controlled, every action precise. Why would someone of his stature come to save him?
“Why did you help me?” Benjamin rasped, his voice weak.
Nathaniel looked down at him, a slight, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. “I’m your brother-in-law.”
Five words. Delivered like a verdict. Quiet, yet burning with intensity.
Brother-in-law? Nathaniel Blackwood? His?
Benjamin ran through his sisters. Victoria—her reputation in ruins. Isabella—scandalized years ago. Sophia—still locked away, hidden from the world.
Which one could possibly be connected to Nathaniel Blackwood?
Just then, the door of the luxury car swung open. Oliver came running out on unsteady legs, his small voice urgent. “Daddy! Daddy, hurry! The bad man is proposing to Mommy!”
Proposing?
Nathaniel took the tablet from Oliver. On the screen, the glamour of the Celestial Gala unfolded. Alexander Whitmore was on one knee, holding out a massive bouquet of roses to Isabella.
Right on cue, her voice rang clear. “Alright. I have three conditions. Fulfill them, and we can be married tonight.”
Married. Tonight.
Was she actually considering it?
A man like Alexander would agree to anything—thirty conditions wouldn’t stop him.
Nathaniel’s fists clenched, his knuckles bleaching white. He was about to pull out his phone when Isabella began speaking again.
“First,” she stated, her tone icy and resolved. “You will testify publicly about every crime Victoria Kensington committed against me. You will personally ensure she is sent to prison.”