Chapter 739
Chapter 739:
“Janice, hold on tight.”
“Why?”
“Our getaway is just getting started.”
Aiden’s eyes narrowed as he twisted the throttle to its maximum. The motorcycle responded with a feral growl, launching them forward with renewed fury.
Through her peripheral vision, Janice spotted multiple motorcycles materializing from the traffic, converging on their position like wolves closing in for the kill.
Harlan was seriously hunting for blood!
At Andromache Hospital, the pre-surgery preparations were complete. The operating room stood as a sterile sanctuary, waiting for its conductor. All depended on MO’s arrival to begin the delicate balance between life and death.
But time had passed well beyond the appointed hour, and there was no sign of MO. Mateo’s composure cracked like thin ice, anxiety seeping through the cracks.
His eyes darted to the clock for the hundredth time, each tick pounding another nail into his coffin of uncertainty.
“Mateo, could it be that MO has backed out at the last minute?” The words slithered from Harlan’s lips as he lounged on a nearby bench. His face wore a mask of false concern, barely concealing the triumph dancing in his eyes. “Father’s surgery is urgent. If MO doesn’t show up in time, I’m afraid—”
“Shut up!” Mateo’s words sliced through the air like a scalpel. “Just hold your tongue.”
“I’m merely looking out for your interests,” Harlan said, adjusting his glasses with practiced nonchalance. Behind that scholarly facade, his thoughts curled into a satisfied smirk. MO’s absence was the first act in his carefully orchestrated play. This was a game he had already won.
Rising with deliberate grace, Harlan closed the distance between them. “Mateo, our father lies vulnerable on that operating table, his life hanging by a thread. Every passing moment tips the scales toward tragedy. If he draws his last breath there, you’ll be the one who personally sent Father to his death. Tell me, does such a man deserve to stand at the helm of our family?”
𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖊: gⲁ𝗅꙰𝗇𝗈ν꙰𝖊𝗅𝘀꙰ⅽ𝗈꙰𝗆
Mateo’s pupils shrank to pinpoints, raw fury blazing in his eyes as he fixed Harlan with a glare that could shatter glass. “Alissa, call MO now!” he demanded.
“Dad, I’ve been trying, but I can’t get through.”
“What?” Mateo froze for a moment. His head snapped toward Harlan, accusation written in every line of his body. “Is this your doing?”
“Come now.” Harlan raised his hands in a gesture of mock innocence, his lips curving into a practiced smile. “I’ve been right here in plain sight. Gilmore can vouch for my whereabouts.”
His gaze slid meaningfully toward Gilmore, who had maintained his silence throughout the unfolding drama.
The taciturn man offered a slight nod, wordlessly confirming Harlan’s alibi.
A change rippled across Mateo’s features, followed by a laugh that lacked any warmth. “I should’ve known that you two were working together.”
“Mateo, what exactly are you implying?” Harlan replied smoothly. “Everyone knows Gilmore’s reputation for neutrality; even Father himself acknowledged it. The man simply doesn’t take sides.” Harlan exuded the quiet confidence of someone holding all the cards.
The smugness rolling off his brother made Mateo’s blood boil, rage coursing through his veins like liquid fire. His fingers itched with the primal urge to wrap around Harlan’s throat.
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.
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