Barren Heiress Returns With Quadruplet

Dressed in a tailored charcoal gray suit that accentuated my sturdy frame. My crisp white shirt peeked out from beneath the jacket, the collar fastened neatly with a silver tie clip.

On my wrist, a gold watch adorned and my cufflinks gleamed subtly. Then I had a black coat of fine fur hang loosely over my broad shoulders.

Sitting in the dimly lit balcony, surrounded by murmur of voices, loud music and the haze of smoke, I watched as my den thrived before me.

From the way the half naked strippers with masks on, swayed gracefully around poles, their movements hypnotic as they entertained the eager crowd.

Men huddled around tables, their faces illuminated by the flicker of cards, their laughter mingling with the clink of chips. People made money. Many others lost. Some were even killed.

In the corners, shadowy figures exchanged whispers, their eyes darting around suspiciously as they indulged in their vices. But amidst it all, I remained still, my gaze unwavering as I surveyed my kingdom.

With a stogie clenched between my teeth, I exhaled a cloud of smoke, the aroma mingling with the scent of sweat and alcohol. From my vantage point, I held power over them all.

Raising my glass, I signaled to the stripper waiting on me to pour me a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, a wine fit for a king in the underworld. As the ruby liquid cascaded into the glass, I took a sip, savoring the rich taste that danced on my palate.

Just then, my second in command, Daemon entered the room, his footsteps echoing against the stone walls. “Boss,” he began, his voice low and respectful, “The last batch of our shipment went smoothly. We’ve secured the goods without a hitch.”

I nodded, acknowledging his report with a grunt of satisfaction. “Good work,” I replied, my words laced with approval. “Make sure our contacts know we appreciate their efficiency. We can’t afford any slip-ups in this business.”

I stood up from my chair, my gaze piercing through the haze of smoke, and approached me with a furrowed brow. “Boss,” he began, his tone cautious, “What are we going to do about Ezekiel Reid? He’s been getting too close for comfort, and if he keeps digging, he could expose us.”

I paused for a moment, contemplating his words. “You know why I came into London myself?” I asked, my voice low and measured.

“Yes, boss,” he replied without hesitation.

“Humor me,” I insisted with a sinister smile plastered across my face.

“To tie up loose ends properly,” he answered, his tone echoing my own resolve.

“Good, good,” I murmured. I had already formulated a plan. With a nod of dismissal, I made my way towards the balcony overlooking the gambling den, my eyes scanning the room below.

“Boss,” my Daemon called after me. “Are you sure about this? Reid’s been a thorn in our side for too long.”

I turned back to him, a steely resolve in my gaze. “Ezekiel Reid’s weakness will be his downfall,” I stated firmly. “And we’ll exploit it before he even knows what’s hit him.”

My second in command nodded, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. “Understood, boss. We’ll handle it.”

I leaned against the balcony railing, my eyes fixed on the bustling activity below and contemplating my next move, another one of my men entered the room, dragging a figure behind him. The man, bloodied and bruised, looked like a broken shell of his former self, his face swollen and contorted in pain.

I studied him with a mixture of disdain and curiosity, noting the cuts and bruises that marred his once smooth skin. This was a man who had seen better days, a man who had crossed the wrong person and paid the ultimate price for his folly.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice dripping with disdain as I turned my attention to my subordinate.

“He stole a few dollars from us, boss.” my subordinate, Red replied. His tone indifferent as he shoved the trembling figure forward.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. “A few dollars,” I repeated, shaking my head in disbelief. “How about you say a FEW words to the devil for me huh?”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

With that, I walked back into where I sat earlier and opened a small casing. In the box iwas my best toy. Turning back to the battered figure, I raised the silenced pistol in my hand, the metal gleaming ominously in the dim light.

“Please Quake, I’ll refund in full. Have mercy on me. Please Quake.” The pleading man’s eyes widened in terror as he realized his fate, his lips moving soundlessly in a desperate prayer.

“Rest in hell,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, before pulling the trigger. “No one steals from me.”

As the room fell silent once more, the weight of my actions hung heavy in the air. But in this world of shadows and deceit, there was no room for mercy, no room for weakness.

As I turned away from the grim scene. “Clean this mess.” I ordered, my voice had no warmth in them. With that, I strode out of the room, Daemon following closely behind.

Outside, the cool night air greeted me as I stepped into the waiting limousine. With my stogie firmly clenched between my fingers, I settled back, the familiar scent of tobacco mingling with the scent of wealth and power.

As the limousine began to pull away, I called out to Daemon, my voice cutting through the silence. “Put a tab on Kamille Manor,” I instructed, my tone brooking no argument. “Anyone who poses a threat to her or her kids should be dealt with swiftly and without mercy.”

“Understood, Boss,” came the immediate reply.

“Also, don’t forget our plans for the other Manors. I don’t fucking want mistakes.” I added sternly.

With a nod of satisfaction, I leaned back in my seat as the limousine glided smoothly through the streets of the city.

Ezekiel Reid. You had better watch your back. I would emerge victorious, no matter the cost.