Jeremy was pinned to the floor by two burly bodyguards at Nightshade Bar. His hand was crushed under the sharp heel of a sleek black leather shoe.

His agonized screams echoed through the empty room.

Sitting on a leather stool, Harrison exuded an effortless authority. His light blue striped shirt and navy waistcoat accentuated his broad, imposing frame. He exuded a refined yet commanding presence.

He leaned forward slightly, his arms resting loosely on his knees. Holding a lit cigar between his fingers, he took a slow drag before exhaling a swirl of smoke into the dimly lit air. Yet no amount of haze could conceal the chilling air emanating from him.

Jeremy's hand throbbed with pain. His voice trembled, thick with desperation.

"Mr. Spencer... I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! Please spare me..."

His pleas, however, did nothing to soften Harrison's expression. Through the drifting smoke, 

Charles and his family left the Linden residence one after another after breakfast. When they stepped out, Serena received a call from Pierce, informing her that the car had arrived.

She picked up her small suitcase—packed with only a few items that truly mattered to her—and left the house.

Pierce stood by the car, waiting. He immediately stepped forward when he saw her approach and took the suitcase from her hands.

"Mrs. Spencer, please get in. Mr. Spencer is here as well."

Serena's heart tightened.

Harrison came in person?

Wasn't he just sending someone to pick her up? Why did he come himself?

Pierce placed her suitcase in the trunk before moving to the rear door and pulling it open for her.

"Mrs. Spencer, after you."

She collected herself, nodded slightly, and hesitantly approached the open door.

Harrison sat on the other side of the back seat inside the car, clad in a metic

"You really are a shameless wretch, Serena!"

Naomi grabbed a fistful of Serena's hair and yanked it back hard. Forced to lift her chin, Serena met Naomi's cold, condescending gaze.

"Don't think that just because you've latched onto a rich man, you can turn into some high-society lady. Let me remind you of your place—you're nothing but an unwanted orphan, a walking disaster, and a filthy woman who'll spread her legs for anyone."

As Naomi spoke, she yanked even harder. "Remember this—you'll always be beneath me. Don't ever think you can rise above your station."

After venting her anger, she finally let go.

"You'll never be my equal, Serena."

She shot Serena a vicious glare before turning and striding upstairs, her head held high.

Serena clenched her fists, the fire in her eyes no longer hidden. She stared at Naomi's retreating figure, a cold smirk slowly curving her lips.

"Naomi, this is the last time. Everything you've done to me over the years—I'll return it all, one by one. We have a long road ahead," she thought.

In her room, Serena sat at her vanity, gazing at her reflection. The faint red imprint of a hand was still visible on her face. She reached up and gently traced her fingers over it.

Just then, her phone rang, breaking the silence. She retrieved it from her bag, and the moment she saw the caller ID, the darkness in her heart lifted. It was Darryl Gilliam—her dearest friend.

Their families had been close when they were children, and she and Darryl often played together. But when his family moved abroad for business, their connection faded.

She had thought they would never cross paths again, but fate brought them back together in Crigow.

When Darryl's parents learned of her family's misfortunes, they didn't turn away. Instead, they took her in as their goddaughter and extended a helping hand. During her four years at the university in Crigow, they cared for her like they were their own.

It was the only warmth she had felt since losing her parents and grandfather.

She answered the call, a gentle smile on her lips. "What's got you calling so late?"

Darryl teased from the other end, "What? You don't want to hear from me?"

"Of course not. I just figured you'd be busy with work."

"No matter how busy I am, I won't neglect you."

Warmth spread through Serena's heart.

He asked with concern, "How is it? Now that you're back with the Linden family, is everything alright? They haven't been giving you trouble, have they?"

Her smile faded slightly, her eyes clouding with complex emotions. "No."

Even though she denied it, Darryl saw right through her. "They have, haven't they?"

She pursed her lips without saying anything.

Darryl sighed, clearly worried. "I told you not to return, but you wouldn't listen. We could have found another way if you wanted your parents' belongings. You fought hard to break free from that prison, so why return? You're just asking for suffering.

"Serena, come back to Crigow. Don't let them keep tormenting you. I'll get your parents' things back for you."

His words were filled with nothing but concern and care.

Serena sighed heavily, sorrow flickering in her eyes. "Darryl, there are things I have to do myself."

"Serena—"

He wanted to argue, but she cut him off, "You know that my parents' accident has always been a knot in my heart. I don't believe it was just an accident."

At this, Darryl fell silent.

"If I don't return to Southport, go back to the Linden family, or join Linden Group, I'll never uncover the truth about their deaths. I need to find out whether it was an accident or something more."

"But..."

She said firmly, "Don't worry about me. I'm not a child anymore."

From the moment she set foot back in Southport and the Linden family, she had hidden her ambitions beneath a facade of quiet obedience.

She reminded herself constantly to endure and be patient because every ounce of restraint now would make her eventual revenge all the sweeter.

Hearing the determination in her voice, Darryl knew there was no persuading her.

"Alright. Remember that I'm always here for you, no matter what happens. And so are your godparents. Whatever you decide to do, we'll support you."

"Okay." A lump formed in her throat, her eyes growing misty.

He added, "I'll start looking into your parents' accident too. If I find anything, you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you."

"There's no need for formalities between us."

Serena smiled, her gratitude genuine. "Even so, I still want to thank you and your parents."

"Alright." He relented, then changed the subject. "I'll be in Southport next month. Let's have dinner."

"Okay."

They continued chatting for a bit. At one point, Serena thought about telling him about her marriage. But just as she was about to, she thought there was no need. After all, she and Harrison would be divorced after one year.

It didn't matter, so she let it go.

Jeremy was pinned to the floor by two burly bodyguards at Nightshade Bar. His hand was crushed under the sharp heel of a sleek black leather shoe.

His agonized screams echoed through the empty room.

Sitting on a leather stool, Harrison exuded an effortless authority. His light blue striped shirt and navy waistcoat accentuated his broad, imposing frame. He exuded a refined yet commanding presence.

He leaned forward slightly, his arms resting loosely on his knees. Holding a lit cigar between his fingers, he took a slow drag before exhaling a swirl of smoke into the dimly lit air. Yet no amount of haze could conceal the chilling air emanating from him.

Jeremy's hand throbbed with pain. His voice trembled, thick with desperation.

"Mr. Spencer... I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! Please spare me..."

His pleas, however, did nothing to soften Harrison's expression. Through the drifting smoke, his features remained cold and unyielding, his gaze devoid of warmth.

"I despise people who covet w

Chapter 14 Harrison's Master Stroke