When the car came to a stop, her eyes went wide.
The house, located in the most posh area in the city, was enormous and modern double story mansion with the biggest zen garden she had seen in city. It stretched across the front, rocks and sand perfectly.
Azrael got out with Little Roe cradled in one arm. He walked toward the stepping stones when his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, cursed under his breath, and, to her surprise, turned to her before brushing past her to walk to Luka.
"Take him to his room," he said, handing Roe to him. "Tell Valentina to help them settle in."
He got back in his car and left.
....
Alexander Hawthorne stood near the glass, one hand behind his back, the other gripping his phone. His posture was rigid, military straight, but his jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack.
"…Repeat that," his voice low and controlled.
On the other end, the man hesitated before answering, careful with every word. "Ms. Valerie Sinclair and Roman are not on the premises. The Sinclair family is refusing to say anything. We are positive that Young Master Azrael took them."
A suffocating silence followed. Then, without warning the table was flung across the room.
'CRASH!'
Wood splintered against the wall, glass shattered across the floor, and the sharp crash echoed through the study.
The old man's chest rose sharply, fury breaking through the tight control he always maintained.
In the corner, a young woman startled, nearly dropping the tray in her hands. She quickly set it aside and rushed toward him, cautious but concerned.
"Dear, calm down—Ah!"
'THUD!'
Before she could even reach him, the door was kicked open.
Both of them froze.
Azrael walked in with a faint smirk, unbothered like he had all the time in the world.
Then his gaze shifted, landing on the woman and narrowed.
She stood there in a skimpy dress unbuttoned, one hand clutching her spilling chest. His expression changed.
"Leave us."
The old man turned toward him, fury already surging again. "How dare you come here after that stunt?!"
Katerina didn't need to be told twice. She rushed past Azrael as fast as she could, almost stumbling in her haste.
Azrael did not spare his grandfather's latest mistress another glance.
He walked further inside, stepping over the broken glass stopping near the ruined table.
"I heard," he casually reached for the fruits on the tray, "you promised Valerie and Roe a vacation to one of your private islands?"
Alexander's eyes darkened. "…Do you know what you cost me just to wet your dick in that wench?" he snapped, voice thick with anger.
Azrael took a bite before spitting it out. It left a sour taste in his mouth, his words and the fruit.
He looked up with his piercing stare and smirked.
There was one thing that Alexander cared for above all, his face as this benevolent, upright man in front of the world. He couldn't bear a single blemish on his character.
This was why Azreal tipped the media with their sensational scandal. It created enough of a buzz to put all eyes on them so the old man couldn't play anymore dirty tricks.
"Was it the same island you sent…" he squinted his eyes, "...Ana?"
Alexander's face darkened, "How dare you!"
A quiet, humorless chuckle escaped him.
"Wasn't she going to give me a little uncle? She must be lonely." He took a sip from the drink Alexander's mistress had prepared before spitting it back in the glass. Disgusting shit. "Were you planning to send them to keep Roe's youngest great-grandma company on the ocean floor?"
Azreal had practically given Valerie and Roe a shield. Alexander could no longer make them 'disappear.'
"Do you think I can't do anything to that whore and bastard because of some articles?"
The round faces of his little chatterbox and kitten flashed in Azreal's mind. He flung the glass to the floor.
'SHATTER!'
When he had first thought of saving them, it was a on a whim. Those pouty lips of the mother and son had him in a chokehold.
But even now, no matter how infuriating and insufferable that woman was, they were nobody eles's business.
Alexnader's face twisted with rage. "You—!" He turned sharply, grabbing a whip from the wall. "On your knees!"
The command cracked through the room. Azrael looked up bored.
"You imbecile-!"
'SWISH! CRACK!'
The whip lashed forward, but Azrael caught it midair.
The familiar leather wrapped around his hand, slicing into his skin. His grip only tightened as blood welled in his fist. A slow grin spread across his face.
The old man tried to pull it back, but it did not budge.
"I'm not ten anymore, am I?" Azrael smirked in amusement.
This whip had 'disciplined' for 15 years of his life. For a brief second, something flickered in the old man's eyes.
Azrael let go. The whip snapped back sharply.
Without another word, Azrael removed his suit jacket and let it fall to the floor. Then he lowered himself onto his knees in front of him, slow and deliberate. "I'm quite fond of them."
His eyes never left the old man's face.
There was no way he could lock them in his mansion forever, even if he could, it would take a single slip up.
An enemy as relentless as his Grandfather was something he didn't need at the moment.
"My son is four and my heir. Why don't you vent on me and tell your dogs to stop sniffing around them?"
The old man's grip on the whip tightened again, rage still burning, but now tempered with something calculative.
The child was already four years old?
"Leave the boy here—"
"He stays with his mother. Ask for something else." Azreal cut him off coldly.
Alexander gritted his teeth.
Azrael knew his parenting methods. He clenched his fists at the thought of someone touching his son.
"The Whites—" The Chairman began sharply.
"That deal," Azrael cut in with a scowl. "I'll get it for your birthday this year."
Silence filled the room again.
Alexander studied him carefully, his expression shifting as surprise replaced pure anger.
Slowly, a smirk appeared on his face, and the whip swung in the air.
'FWISSH!'
"You better measure up to your words, boy."