Chapter 49

Chapter 49:

Fernanda returned to the same room where she and Leon had shared drinks earlier. Now, Leon looked unmistakably drunk, his face flushed as he slouched in a chair, drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Leon’s too drunk. He probably shouldn’t come with me,” Fernanda concluded aloud. “I’ll go alone.”

“Don’t,” Leon mumbled, his eyelids fluttering open at the sound of her voice. He squinted around the dimly lit room, his vision swimming, until his eyes finally landed on Fernanda. Struggling to his feet, he braced himself against the table, his voice thick with slurred words. “I’ll go with you. If that guy dares to disrespect you, I’ll… I’ll make sure he pays dearly!”

As Leon teetered, visibly unsteady, his man quickly stepped in and gently eased him back into the chair.

“Leon, how about I accompany Fernanda instead? Take a break for now. Trust me, I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Leon peered at him through narrowed eyes, trying to focus. After a beat, recognition flickered in his gaze. “Soren, huh?”

At that, Fernanda realized the man’s name was Soren.

“Fine… I’ll leave Fernanda in your hands,” Leon said with a hint of reluctance. “Protect her like your life depends on it. If anyone dares talk down to her, I’ll rip their tongue out myself.”

“Of course. You don’t have to worry,” Soren Morales replied calmly, ensuring Leon was secure before motioning for Fernanda to follow him.

They made their way to the fifth floor, stopping at the room at the end of the corridor. Soren slid a keycard through the reader and opened the door, gesturing for Fernanda to enter.

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The room was dim, filled with heavy shadows, until Soren inserted the card into the switch slot. The lights flickered on, harshly revealing the figure of a man bound to a chair, his eyes and mouth covered with tape.

At first motionless, the man began to stir as the door creaked open, emitting muffled sounds of protest.

Without hesitation, Fernanda stepped forward and ripped the tape from his mouth.

“Who are you? Where am I?” he blurted out, his voice hoarse and filled with confusion.

Just earlier that day, he had been driving back from a routine errand when his car tire suddenly blew out. As he stepped out to inspect the damage, a sack was thrown over his head, and he was forcibly shoved into a vehicle, unaware of where he was being taken.

Now, with the tape removed but still disoriented by the blinding light, a wave of dread washed over him. The uncertainty of his situation gnawed at him, feeding his rising panic.

Fernanda and Soren remained silent.

As his anxiety mounted, the man’s questions became louder and more frantic.

“Who the hell are you? Why the fuck did you drag me here? Do you even know who I am? Do you have any idea who’s backing me?”

“Yes,” Fernanda replied calmly, her tone cool and steady. “I know exactly who supports you. I also know what you’ve done for them. Why else would you be here?”

“Cut the bullshit!” he snapped, his voice cracking with panic. “I’ve lived clean—never hurt a damn soul! You’ve got the wrong guy. Let me out of here!”

Fernanda let out a soft, derisive laugh. “Oh, really? What about the time you paid off several drivers to orchestrate a car crash?”

He flinched, his posture stiffening before he fired back, “That’s nonsense!”

Fernanda crossed the room and lowered herself onto the sofa with quiet grace. “Still refusing to own up?”

“I’m innocent, I tell you!” he shouted, clinging to denial.

But deep down, a heavy suspicion had been growing ever since he was captured. It had to be about that incident. He hadn’t been involved in anything else recently that would provoke such a response.

Just a few days earlier, Ava had pressured him into staging that traffic accident—clearly meant to hinder someone or disrupt an important event. He had executed the job with extreme caution, covering his tracks and avoiding any exposure.

And yet, here he was.

The realization that someone had uncovered the truth unsettled him deeply.

Then Fernanda spoke again, her voice slicing through the tension.

“Bring them in. It’s time we taught him a lesson.”

Without hesitation, Soren replied, “As you wish.”

At Fernanda’s order, panic surged through the man. He began thrashing wildly in his restraints, desperate to escape. In his frenzy, he toppled sideways, crashing to the cold floor with the chair still bound to him. No matter how hard he struggled, the weight of the chair pinned him down, rendering him helpless.

“You pieces of shit! You think you can get away with beating me like this?” he bellowed, struggling against the cords. “Let me go! I swear, I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Tell the truth, or I’ll make sure you regret keeping your mouth shut,” Fernanda said coolly, as if this entire situation were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “So, will you speak now?”

“I haven’t done shit! What more do you want from me?” he cried, his voice beginning to crack under the weight of fear.

Fernanda’s patience was nearing its limit. She had no interest in playing games.

Soren had already summoned backup, and several figures now stood silently by the doorway, awaiting her word.

“Show him no mercy,” Fernanda commanded, her tone sharp and cutting.

The group surged forward without delay, raining down a storm of kicks and punches on the bound man. At first, he screamed his innocence. Then came the curses. Eventually, all that escaped his mouth were garbled cries of pain.

Each blow landed with punishing force, and the agony carved through him like a knife. It was only then that he fully grasped the truth—these were not people he could intimidate or bluff. If he didn’t speak, they would break him.

Fear finally shattered his facade. His screams cracked into pleading.

“Stop! I’ll talk!” he cried, his voice hoarse and soaked with panic.

Fernanda raised her hand. The room stilled.

“Go on,” she ordered, her voice as cold and sharp as steel.

As the man lay trembling, Fernanda pulled out her phone and aimed the camera directly at him, her expression unreadable. The red recording light blinked steadily, capturing everything without flinching.

“It was me,” he stammered. “I paid a few drivers to orchestrate crashes on Central Avenue that morning to create a massive traffic jam.”

“And who put you up to this?” Fernanda pressed, her voice slicing through the tense air.

The man faltered, his confidence slipping. “Well, I…”

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out who sent you, especially since I had someone apprehend you right outside Riverside Gardens?” Her tone was sharp and uncompromising. “You better start talking.”

He realized then that she already knew the answer and was simply confirming it. Swallowing hard, he finally blurted out, “It was Ava Ross.”

“Out with the whole story,” Fernanda demanded, her voice calm but commanding.

“Ava Ross instructed me to orchestrate a traffic jam on Central Avenue the morning of August 30th,” he admitted, his voice trembling under the weight of the confession. “But I honestly don’t know what it was really for or what she hoped to achieve.”

Satisfied, Fernanda stopped the screen recording. Her expression was unreadable, but the flicker of triumph in her eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

“Take him back,” she instructed Soren with a casual wave.

Soren gave a curt nod.

A wave of relief washed over the man, almost tangible. He felt like he had just narrowly escaped death. As Soren and the others escorted him out, Fernanda followed them out of the room, her steps steady.

But instead of heading home, she turned toward the towering front gates of Riverside Gardens.

Using the coordinates she had saved earlier, Fernanda quickly found her way to Ava’s residence. The mansion was large, elegant, and discreetly luxurious.

She parked her motorcycle beneath a broad, old tree, leaned against the frame, and took out her phone to scan the latest news.

As dusk deepened, a cool breeze stirred the air, and lights began flickering on in nearby homes.

Roughly ten minutes later, the stillness was broken by the low rumble of a car approaching.

It came to a halt not far from where Fernanda stood, hidden in the shadows. Unaware of her presence, Ava stepped out of the car.

It wasn’t until Fernanda’s voice sliced through the quiet dusk that Ava realized she wasn’t alone.

She spun around, her eyes widening in shock as she saw Fernanda striding toward her.

Frozen in place, Ava’s voice trembled. “What are you—”

She didn’t finish. Fernanda’s hand whipped through the air, landing a sharp slap across Ava’s cheek, cutting her off mid-sentence.

Ava stood in stunned silence, her hand flying to the burning skin on her face, her expression twisted in disbelief.

“How fucking dare you lay a hand on me?” she hissed, fury flashing in her eyes.

Fernanda said nothing. She raised her hand again and struck Ava with even more force, the second slap turning her cheek crimson.

Her eyes locked on Ava’s with steely calm. “How about that?”

A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Ask again, and I’ll shut you up the same way.”

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