Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 65

Chapter 65: Downfall

Carol Blackwood sat in the grand conference room of Blackwood Coup. Her perfectly manicured nails were tapping impatiently against the polished mahogany table.

Her lawyers were late.

“Unacceptable.” She scoffed in disbelief.

She was a woman of power, a woman of status. When she summoned someone, they arrived. And yet, here she was, left waiting like some commoner forced to sit in silence as the empire she had built crumbled beneath her.

Her wealth was gone.

Her son was locked away in some godforsaken asylum.

And now, all that remained were questions. Questions she demanded answers to.

Suddenly, the door to the conference room finally swung open.

Carol straightened as her sharp eyes immediately locked onto the figure that entered, prepared to unleash every ounce of fury on the poor soul who dared to keep her waiting.

But instead of her lawyers-

An unfamiliar man stepped inside.

He moved with unhurried confidence, dressed in an expensive black coat over a fitted turtleneck. His presence was commanding despite the silence he carried with him. His silver–grey eyes were sharp, unreadable, gleaming with clear danger. But she was not fazed.

He calmly shut the door behind him as if he owned the very ground he walked on.

Carol’s brows furrowed as irritation sparked immediately.

And then-

He had the audacity to sit down across from her.

Casually and comfortably.

As if he had been invited.

Then, with an easy smirk, he spoke.

“Apologies for being late,” his deep voice carried smoothly across the room. “We had to drop someone off at the police station.”

Carol blinked, momentarily thrown by the utter boldness of this stranger.

Her jaw tightened and her nostrils flared slightly as she straightened in her seat.

Then, she scoffed.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are,” she spat, voice razor–sharp, “but do you even know where you are? Do you know who I am?”

Her glare was nothing short of venomous.

This is the Blackwood Group,” she continued, her voice rising with authority. “My company. My table. My building. And I do not recall ever inviting you here.”

She leaned forward slightly, her presence as imposing as it was enraged.

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“So unless you want to walk out of here in pieces, I suggest you telline who the fuck you are before I have security drag you out like a dog. ”

But Valerian inerely raised a brow, intrigued, before a simile crept up on his lips.

Like he was amused.

Like he was looking at a child throwing a tantrum.

Then, he leisurely leaned back in his chair with his eyes locked onto hers as he exhaled in amusement.

“I don’t believe you understand…” he mused, his voice smooth as silk, dangerous as sin.

He tilted his head slightly. His smirk deepened as he delivered the killing blow.

“This isn’t your company anymore, Mrs. Blackwood. Or should I say, Mrs. Montgomery?” He smirked.

Carol instantly froze.

The name Montgomery hit her like a bullet to the chest.

But she masked it quickly, refusing to acknowledge her late husband’s surname.

“Montgomery?” she repeated with feigned amusement. “You must be mistaken.”

Valerian didn’t blink. He simply watched her. His gaze was sharp with amusement as if he were truly entertained by the sheer

audacity of her denial.

“Oh?” He arched a brow, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Then tell me, Carol,” he leaned forward, his voice dropping lower, laced with menace, “Was I also mistaken in believing that you are one of the contributors to my beloved’s pain?”

Carol scoffed, rolling her eyes before letting out a laugh. “How would I know? I don’t even know you.”

Valerian hummed, as if considering her words. Then, with a slow smirk, he straightened.

“Right. Apologies for my rudeness.”

Without warning, he suddenly stood with his chair scraping against the polished floor as he took a confident stride toward her. His movements were slow and controlled but the weight behind them made Carol flinch.

She quickly snapped her fingers toward the door, her voice rising. Guards! Guards!”

But no one came.

Valerian chuckled out of amusement.

“Oh, Carol,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You really think you still hold power here? How sad.”

Her pulse pounded as she gripped the armrests of her chair.

He stepped closer, close enough for her to feel the controlled rage radiating from him, but still, he kept his hands to himself. For

now.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’m not going to do anything to you. At least… not yet.”

Carol swallowed, unable to hide the slight tremor in her fingers.

Then, Valerian reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a photograph and holding it up in front of her.

“Do you know her?”

Carol’s gaze flickered to the picture.

Recognition was instant, and so was the cruel smirk that spread across her lips.

Chapter 65 Downtol

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“Oh, the little flower shop girl?” She drawled, tilting her head in rock thought. “Why? is she dead?”

Her tone was mocking, filled with false innocence, but the glint in her eyes was pleased–pleased at the idea that Noelle might no longer be breathing.

She barely had time to process the shift in Valerian.

One second, he was standing there, poised.

The next

His hand was clamped around her throat.

A sharp gasp tore from Carol’s lips as she was wrenched upward, her feet barely touching the floor.

Her hands flew to his wrist, nails digging into his skin as she struggled, but his grip was like iron–unyielding and merciless.

Valerian’s expression didn’t change. His silver–grey eyes were cold, empty, and devoid of any hesitation.

“Choose your words carefully, Mrs. Montgomery. I am not a patient man. At least not to women like you.” His voice was calm, but lethal:

Carol’s face twisted as she tried to pry his fingers off her throat, her breath coming in short, frantic gasps. Her heart slammed against her ribs as her fear finally began sinking in.

Because this man was a monster.

“I suggest you pray, Carol,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her cheek. “Because from this moment on, your suffering has only just begun.”

And with that, he let her go.

Carol collapsed into her chair, gasping for breath, her hands clutching at her bruised throat. Her vision blurred, her body trembling as she tried to process what had just happened. But before she could even regain her composure, the door swung open.

Two of Valerian’s men stepped inside.

Valerian didn’t even spare her another glance as he straightened his cuffs, his voice smooth but devoid of mercy.

“Mark her.” he ordered. “From this day forward, she will live as the women she profited from. She will know what it means to be powerless. Make her a prostitute.”

Carol’s blood ran cold.

Her breath hitched as a sharp wave of real fear slammed into her chest. She looked up with her wide, horrified eyes darting between the men who had just entered and Valerian, who remained as composed as ever.

“No-“Her voice cracked, hoarse and desperate. “No, you can’t-

Valerian finally met her gaze, tilting his head slightly.

“Can’t?” He echoed with amusement laced in his tone. “Carol, dear-” He leaned in, his smirk cutting like a blade. “I already did.”

The last thing she saw before sheer panic overtook her was the cruel, satisfied glint in his silver–grey eyes.